I don't know if you've ever tried it, but walking on a tightrope is quite hard.
And if something is difficult, then it's an easy analogy to life!
So here we go:
Life it like a tightrope because...
there's that end goal that you want to get to but can never reach.
it seems like you'll be able to make it if you've got enough momentum.
balance is key.
some people seem to do it better than you ever could.
you kinda feel like a fool for trying so much
no matter how well you feel like you're doing, you're one slip away from falling.
I'd venture to say that the masters of disguise are not chameleons or octopi, but theoretical banana peels. Because no one ever seems to see them coming on the road of life.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Friday, May 31, 2013
So You Say
People say things.
There are a lot of people. There are a lot of things said.
No one ever agrees.
I am weak, flawed, scared. Very scared. Perfection looms, possibility lurks, and the demons of hope bear wicked grins. I don't know. I don't know a lot of things. I cannot stop. Time will not allow it. So I hope.
Failure. Such a scary word, but what does it mean?
Have I failed if I don't live up to someone's expectation?
Have I failed if I don't have any expectations? Or have too many?
Have I failed if I'm not happy? wealthy? good? right?
Can I only fail by not doing anything at all? Is it really possible to fail?
Is it as objective as it seems to be? Can someone be revered by all and still consider themselves a failure? Can someone be considered failed by others but a success in their own right?
I'm a human. Humans have a sense of desperation that works quite well in making them do things. I fear a future in which I'm penniless. Suffering. A drain on society. Friendless.
By the way people talk, it sounds like the job market is horrendous. That only after months of agony can a lucky individual hope to find a minimum-wage job. People are frightened by a 10% unemployment rate. Which if I interpret correctly, means that 90% of people have jobs. In truth, I'm probably not exceptional enough not to have a job. Maybe the complaining is a result of the unrealized American dream. People unsatisfied with their job, even though it gives them a substantial life.
I worry about grad school. I fret about the prestigious colleges that won't accept me, and the mediocre ones that won't either. I worry about disappointing the people who tell me I'm smart. I'm scared by the people who tell me that graduate school isn't worth it. That it will keep me from getting a job, or will land me in a vicious and cutthroat environment in which I'm doomed to waste friendless and stressed until I realize that I'm simply not good enough. I'm worried about the warnings about all the things I need to be to "succeed", the equally mystic opposite of failure. I need to be charming. I need to be brilliant. I need to be diligent. I need to be outgoing. I need to be perfect. I'm not even close.
I wish that I could see the balance. That I could hear people talk about how they like some parts of their job, even if it's not everything they've ever dreamed of. I wish I could hear talk about how getting a job is stressful, but not unachievable. I want someone to talk about the craziness of getting into and through grad school, but also gratitude for how much they learned. I want someone to tell me that people will appreciate my strengths even through my flaws, just like people do all the time for each other. I want someone to help me know that I'll be okay.
And I'd rather that someone not be me trying to convince myself.
There are a lot of people. There are a lot of things said.
No one ever agrees.
I am weak, flawed, scared. Very scared. Perfection looms, possibility lurks, and the demons of hope bear wicked grins. I don't know. I don't know a lot of things. I cannot stop. Time will not allow it. So I hope.
Failure. Such a scary word, but what does it mean?
Have I failed if I don't live up to someone's expectation?
Have I failed if I don't have any expectations? Or have too many?
Have I failed if I'm not happy? wealthy? good? right?
Can I only fail by not doing anything at all? Is it really possible to fail?
Is it as objective as it seems to be? Can someone be revered by all and still consider themselves a failure? Can someone be considered failed by others but a success in their own right?
I'm a human. Humans have a sense of desperation that works quite well in making them do things. I fear a future in which I'm penniless. Suffering. A drain on society. Friendless.
By the way people talk, it sounds like the job market is horrendous. That only after months of agony can a lucky individual hope to find a minimum-wage job. People are frightened by a 10% unemployment rate. Which if I interpret correctly, means that 90% of people have jobs. In truth, I'm probably not exceptional enough not to have a job. Maybe the complaining is a result of the unrealized American dream. People unsatisfied with their job, even though it gives them a substantial life.
I worry about grad school. I fret about the prestigious colleges that won't accept me, and the mediocre ones that won't either. I worry about disappointing the people who tell me I'm smart. I'm scared by the people who tell me that graduate school isn't worth it. That it will keep me from getting a job, or will land me in a vicious and cutthroat environment in which I'm doomed to waste friendless and stressed until I realize that I'm simply not good enough. I'm worried about the warnings about all the things I need to be to "succeed", the equally mystic opposite of failure. I need to be charming. I need to be brilliant. I need to be diligent. I need to be outgoing. I need to be perfect. I'm not even close.
I wish that I could see the balance. That I could hear people talk about how they like some parts of their job, even if it's not everything they've ever dreamed of. I wish I could hear talk about how getting a job is stressful, but not unachievable. I want someone to talk about the craziness of getting into and through grad school, but also gratitude for how much they learned. I want someone to tell me that people will appreciate my strengths even through my flaws, just like people do all the time for each other. I want someone to help me know that I'll be okay.
And I'd rather that someone not be me trying to convince myself.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Laughing at the Fallen Child
I saw a little boy fall down today.
Pain not good. No like pain. This is a very basic and very general sentiment, and thus when we find someone else hurting, our first response is to stop the pain. Often, this is done through sympathy. I remember reading somewhere that when a child falls, they don't actually have a response. They mirror what their parent does. If the parent looks worried or panicked, the child will cry. If the parent is nonchalant or humored, the child will stand back up, completely fine.
Due to this reading, I wanted to help the child by blowing off the situation and offering to help him up. His mother came to him, so I did not interfere.
Today I also read an article that talks about the current child-rearing practice of allowing all children to believe they are above average, and protecting them from uncomfortable things.
While it is good parenting advice to store for the future, it made me think a lot about myself. They're talking about the kids raised in my generation. They're talking about me.
Arguably, my anxious symptoms could have been caused by too much negative stimulus as opposed to not enough, but either way the result is the same: I am slow to make decisions, avoid leadership, and cannot handle painful situations well.
So now what? The article was directed at the parents, not the children. It was certainly no how-to guide growing up after being protected from everything. That's something I have to figure it out on my own, but it's certainly fitting that it should happen that way.
Incalculable data shows that pain is not avoidable in life. It simply isn't. No matter the bubble of protection someone has, or the shelter from bad things, or luck of the irish, life is going to be unhappy sometimes. The point, as I have come to see it, is not to do anything stupid during these times. And maybe I'll have the best chance of making smart choices in these times if I don't hate them so much. Maybe I won't hate them so much if I can learn to be at peace sitting with unpleasantness. Maybe I can learn to laugh at the fallen child. At a fallen self.
Pain not good. No like pain. This is a very basic and very general sentiment, and thus when we find someone else hurting, our first response is to stop the pain. Often, this is done through sympathy. I remember reading somewhere that when a child falls, they don't actually have a response. They mirror what their parent does. If the parent looks worried or panicked, the child will cry. If the parent is nonchalant or humored, the child will stand back up, completely fine.
Due to this reading, I wanted to help the child by blowing off the situation and offering to help him up. His mother came to him, so I did not interfere.
Today I also read an article that talks about the current child-rearing practice of allowing all children to believe they are above average, and protecting them from uncomfortable things.
While it is good parenting advice to store for the future, it made me think a lot about myself. They're talking about the kids raised in my generation. They're talking about me.
Arguably, my anxious symptoms could have been caused by too much negative stimulus as opposed to not enough, but either way the result is the same: I am slow to make decisions, avoid leadership, and cannot handle painful situations well.
So now what? The article was directed at the parents, not the children. It was certainly no how-to guide growing up after being protected from everything. That's something I have to figure it out on my own, but it's certainly fitting that it should happen that way.
Incalculable data shows that pain is not avoidable in life. It simply isn't. No matter the bubble of protection someone has, or the shelter from bad things, or luck of the irish, life is going to be unhappy sometimes. The point, as I have come to see it, is not to do anything stupid during these times. And maybe I'll have the best chance of making smart choices in these times if I don't hate them so much. Maybe I won't hate them so much if I can learn to be at peace sitting with unpleasantness. Maybe I can learn to laugh at the fallen child. At a fallen self.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Crippled
That's the thing about disorders, they are a commonly targeted weak spot. The right combination of words from the right person. The visual stimulus of a particular creature. The imagined potential of physical harm. Things that are normal to dislike, but are strange to cower from. And what's more, the fear of the thing can enlarge and start to envelop circumstances in which the thing could appear. No meetings with people who could say those things. No environments where the creature might reside. No activities involving anything like that contraption. The mental block raises anxiety levels to above average on normal circumstances, but the real problem arises when confronted with the thing itself. The utter surprise cannot be correctly handled by the mind, which sputters and stalls, unable to move on, unable to understand. Terror runs like poison through the veins, paralyzing as it goes. One can only hope to recover soon.
I'm not sure what the official diagnosis of me would be, but here's how I explain it:
I'm terrified that everyone, without exception, does or will hate me. I'm so afraid of doing something wrong, and I'm mortified when it happens. Tonight, for example, I was talking with my new step-brother about Eve online and battlefield, two games he plays. I honestly thought it was going rather well. I was trying to politely make my exit by saying, "Well, I'll let you listen to the sounds." (He had previously let me hear through headphones the good sound quality of battlefield, which he was presently playing, and had commented on how much he enjoyed that aspect of the game.) To which he replied something along the lines of, "How generous." My brain locked. I couldn't tell if it was sarcasm. Was I not supposed to leave? Was there something else he had wanted to explain to me? Had he not wanted me here all along? Was I annoying? Had he said something the suggest this before and I just didn't catch it? I couldn't function well enough to properly process his "'Night", so I mumbled "same to you" and walked out.
Now I'm downstairs, 40 minutes later, still freaking out. I really hope he doesn't hate me. I mean, it doesn't make sense that he would HATE me just for being annoying. But then if in one day I've already gotten on his nerves he probably doesn't like me. I really don't like when people don't like me. I want my step-brothers to like me. Both of them. I think the other one doesn't like me, but that's probably just me being paranoid. He wasn't avoiding me, he's just busy. Surely. The my-age/older brothers I've wished to have my entire life don't hate me. It's just... just... I don't know. I really don't like my head sometimes. What if they find out? What if they think I'm obsessive? Creepy? Crazy? What if that makes more annoying, and they never want anything to do with me?
What is WRONG with me? Why am I so unsettled by two words? Why can I still see his face when he said them? Why can't I decipher it? Why do I CARE?! It's never going to be mentioned again. He'll just hate me and never let me know. He'll just hate when I'm around. He'll still act nice, but only because he doesn't want to cause problems. What was I thinking. We'd never have been friends anyways.
..... so yeah. Sometimes, like nowtimes, my brain does things. This is enough of a demonstration methinks. It makes me worried sometimes. How am I ever going to be able to live a life with someone else if I'm always on my toes about doing things wrong? As hard as I try, I can't be perfect. I'm going to do stupid things unintentionally. I'm going to get hurt a lot and get paranoid without them doing hardly anything. Two words. That's all it took tonight. Sometimes it only takes a facial expression. And this issue is not my only one. How can I do that to somebody? Even if I fulfill a few needs, I don't think I could honestly burden someone with taking care of me. That's why I'm going to live alone with a cat. Because I'm emotionally crippled.
I should really be able to get a license or something to carry around a comfort cat.
I'm not sure what the official diagnosis of me would be, but here's how I explain it:
I'm terrified that everyone, without exception, does or will hate me. I'm so afraid of doing something wrong, and I'm mortified when it happens. Tonight, for example, I was talking with my new step-brother about Eve online and battlefield, two games he plays. I honestly thought it was going rather well. I was trying to politely make my exit by saying, "Well, I'll let you listen to the sounds." (He had previously let me hear through headphones the good sound quality of battlefield, which he was presently playing, and had commented on how much he enjoyed that aspect of the game.) To which he replied something along the lines of, "How generous." My brain locked. I couldn't tell if it was sarcasm. Was I not supposed to leave? Was there something else he had wanted to explain to me? Had he not wanted me here all along? Was I annoying? Had he said something the suggest this before and I just didn't catch it? I couldn't function well enough to properly process his "'Night", so I mumbled "same to you" and walked out.
Now I'm downstairs, 40 minutes later, still freaking out. I really hope he doesn't hate me. I mean, it doesn't make sense that he would HATE me just for being annoying. But then if in one day I've already gotten on his nerves he probably doesn't like me. I really don't like when people don't like me. I want my step-brothers to like me. Both of them. I think the other one doesn't like me, but that's probably just me being paranoid. He wasn't avoiding me, he's just busy. Surely. The my-age/older brothers I've wished to have my entire life don't hate me. It's just... just... I don't know. I really don't like my head sometimes. What if they find out? What if they think I'm obsessive? Creepy? Crazy? What if that makes more annoying, and they never want anything to do with me?
What is WRONG with me? Why am I so unsettled by two words? Why can I still see his face when he said them? Why can't I decipher it? Why do I CARE?! It's never going to be mentioned again. He'll just hate me and never let me know. He'll just hate when I'm around. He'll still act nice, but only because he doesn't want to cause problems. What was I thinking. We'd never have been friends anyways.
..... so yeah. Sometimes, like nowtimes, my brain does things. This is enough of a demonstration methinks. It makes me worried sometimes. How am I ever going to be able to live a life with someone else if I'm always on my toes about doing things wrong? As hard as I try, I can't be perfect. I'm going to do stupid things unintentionally. I'm going to get hurt a lot and get paranoid without them doing hardly anything. Two words. That's all it took tonight. Sometimes it only takes a facial expression. And this issue is not my only one. How can I do that to somebody? Even if I fulfill a few needs, I don't think I could honestly burden someone with taking care of me. That's why I'm going to live alone with a cat. Because I'm emotionally crippled.
I should really be able to get a license or something to carry around a comfort cat.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Unfathomable
Have you ever thought about how incomprehensible someone else is?
So many memories and experiences. A lifetime so big they can't even remember it themselves. How they were raised. Regrets they had. Assumptions they didn't even know were there, and the moments when they found out they were wrong.
I like stories from people. Sometimes, people talk to me and I realize just how much I don't understand them. I don't understand anything. Not only do I not know the feelings they go through, I don't know how they think. How they see. I have no clue how their mental perception patterns function. I want them to be happy, because I know I hate being sad. And I also get sad when people don't like me, but people like me when I want them to be happy. Win-win. No depth. I don't know what happy means for them. I don't know pain either. I have my emotions and I've tagged them with words that mirror the word choice used for other people's similar situation. Awkward. Angry. Ashamed.
Maybe we're lucky. Maybe we do all see blue the same. Maybe our emotions are as in sync as we expect them to be. But even then, I've found in the last little bit that I am capable of emotions that I didn't know existed. Me, the buildup of years, with only a slight change in circumstance, can find something new. How new, then, would be the plethora of feelings that are experienced day by day, and year by year, by someone who is different than me? And as everyone is unique, everyone is different from me.
The magnitude of my potential lack of understanding is overwhelming.
So many memories and experiences. A lifetime so big they can't even remember it themselves. How they were raised. Regrets they had. Assumptions they didn't even know were there, and the moments when they found out they were wrong.
I like stories from people. Sometimes, people talk to me and I realize just how much I don't understand them. I don't understand anything. Not only do I not know the feelings they go through, I don't know how they think. How they see. I have no clue how their mental perception patterns function. I want them to be happy, because I know I hate being sad. And I also get sad when people don't like me, but people like me when I want them to be happy. Win-win. No depth. I don't know what happy means for them. I don't know pain either. I have my emotions and I've tagged them with words that mirror the word choice used for other people's similar situation. Awkward. Angry. Ashamed.
Maybe we're lucky. Maybe we do all see blue the same. Maybe our emotions are as in sync as we expect them to be. But even then, I've found in the last little bit that I am capable of emotions that I didn't know existed. Me, the buildup of years, with only a slight change in circumstance, can find something new. How new, then, would be the plethora of feelings that are experienced day by day, and year by year, by someone who is different than me? And as everyone is unique, everyone is different from me.
The magnitude of my potential lack of understanding is overwhelming.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Constant Change
The only constant is change.
A strange but true statement. It's funny how much we're scared of things happening. Especially at the college age there are so many happening to fear. Relationships? Job? Career? House? School?
The funny thing is that we've been told over and over again that these happenings really don't matter. The initial high/low is real as real can be, but even large events like winning the lottery or becoming paraplegic have little if any effect on our overall happiness. Evidence here.
So within this paradox, we can always be assured that these events that make us so anxious before will have a small impact on how we feel after. Additionally, we will likely make the "best choice" regarding said events when we are level-headed enough to think things through, instead of letting our worry push us to act rashly.
On a similar note, the constancy of change means that any immediate deviation from our normal mood is temporary. The exhilaration you enjoy at any given moment will fade faster than you want. The depths of despair will kick you out soon enough. Given this knowledge, we can always guess what's happening next.
"I'm so happy. This has been an absolutely fantastic birthday."
"..."
"Something is likely going to go wrong soon. Oh well, no use dwelling on something I can't predict."
A few days later
"I don't think I've ever felt quite this much pain all at once. It's interesting because I've never had any feeling that is close to this one. It's a different kind of pain, but it hurts so very bad and I just want it to stop. I have to wait. It'll be okay. It will. I'll be fine."
Lo and behold, some time and a bit of complaining later, and I'm on the mend. I coulda guessed it. I did. For anybody else reading this, it helps. It doesn't mitigate any of the agony, but it helps in keeping me from doing drastic things, which is really all that I can hope for in the unhappy moments. And it doesn't make the happy times any worse knowing that they won't last, so it works pretty well.
Just a thought.
P.S. My dad got me 50$ to itunes for my birthday. I love music so very much.
A strange but true statement. It's funny how much we're scared of things happening. Especially at the college age there are so many happening to fear. Relationships? Job? Career? House? School?
The funny thing is that we've been told over and over again that these happenings really don't matter. The initial high/low is real as real can be, but even large events like winning the lottery or becoming paraplegic have little if any effect on our overall happiness. Evidence here.
So within this paradox, we can always be assured that these events that make us so anxious before will have a small impact on how we feel after. Additionally, we will likely make the "best choice" regarding said events when we are level-headed enough to think things through, instead of letting our worry push us to act rashly.
On a similar note, the constancy of change means that any immediate deviation from our normal mood is temporary. The exhilaration you enjoy at any given moment will fade faster than you want. The depths of despair will kick you out soon enough. Given this knowledge, we can always guess what's happening next.
"I'm so happy. This has been an absolutely fantastic birthday."
"..."
"Something is likely going to go wrong soon. Oh well, no use dwelling on something I can't predict."
A few days later
"I don't think I've ever felt quite this much pain all at once. It's interesting because I've never had any feeling that is close to this one. It's a different kind of pain, but it hurts so very bad and I just want it to stop. I have to wait. It'll be okay. It will. I'll be fine."
Lo and behold, some time and a bit of complaining later, and I'm on the mend. I coulda guessed it. I did. For anybody else reading this, it helps. It doesn't mitigate any of the agony, but it helps in keeping me from doing drastic things, which is really all that I can hope for in the unhappy moments. And it doesn't make the happy times any worse knowing that they won't last, so it works pretty well.
Just a thought.
P.S. My dad got me 50$ to itunes for my birthday. I love music so very much.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Hurts for Better; Hurts for Worse
I cried tonight. It was great.
Don't get me wrong, these were not tears of joy. It hurt a lot and made me sad to realize the things I was thinking, and that is why I cried. But after I felt it, I was okay.
I get sad a lot. I'd venture to say that I get sad more frequently and more intensely than is healthy. The problem is that most of these times, I shove it down. I'm not supposed to cry. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be stable. I'm supposed to be happy. So I yell at my feelings to shut up and stop causing problems. I shut down everything because if I don't then my emotions will start hurting other people, and then those people will hate me. So it keeps hurting until sleep repairs me, and sometimes it still lingers the next day. And soon enough I start hurting again. The process repeats itself, and the problems don't get fixed and I create more internal issues by yelling at myself. I fabricate escapist ideas to block out pain. I fall into despair because I can't face the unhappiness but I can't deny it either.
But sometimes, someone goes beyond the polite and acceptable, "Are you okay? Well, let me know if I can do something," and simply says, "You are sad." At that moment, my barriers break and it all comes crashing down. The flood of sadness sends tears rolling down my cheeks. The fear behind it all screams to be realized. Over and over it shouts its existence. But in this time, the falsehoods wash away. I don't really want everybody to forget about me. I just want to be loved, when I'm scared everybody hates me. Being forgotten is much easier than being hated. I don't really want to leave everybody. I just want to love them, when I'm scared I don't really know what love is. Not being there at all is better than loving falsely.
It hurts. It hurts a lot to have the things I've been avoiding for so long staring me in the face. It hurts a ton to be visibly experiencing the emotion that I'm ashamed of having. But the tears don't run forever, and the fear stops yelling once it's recognized. My heart is still wounded from all the injuries it has taken, but it feels better and so much warmer now that it has thawed. Nothing has really changed. The past is still the same. I'm still Avoidant. I still have to turn in homework tomorrow. But because I was able to be okay feeling these things, I'll be alright. Better than alright, I'll be well. I'll be happy.
TL;DR - This "grin and bear it" thing is nonsense.
Don't get me wrong, these were not tears of joy. It hurt a lot and made me sad to realize the things I was thinking, and that is why I cried. But after I felt it, I was okay.
I get sad a lot. I'd venture to say that I get sad more frequently and more intensely than is healthy. The problem is that most of these times, I shove it down. I'm not supposed to cry. I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be stable. I'm supposed to be happy. So I yell at my feelings to shut up and stop causing problems. I shut down everything because if I don't then my emotions will start hurting other people, and then those people will hate me. So it keeps hurting until sleep repairs me, and sometimes it still lingers the next day. And soon enough I start hurting again. The process repeats itself, and the problems don't get fixed and I create more internal issues by yelling at myself. I fabricate escapist ideas to block out pain. I fall into despair because I can't face the unhappiness but I can't deny it either.
But sometimes, someone goes beyond the polite and acceptable, "Are you okay? Well, let me know if I can do something," and simply says, "You are sad." At that moment, my barriers break and it all comes crashing down. The flood of sadness sends tears rolling down my cheeks. The fear behind it all screams to be realized. Over and over it shouts its existence. But in this time, the falsehoods wash away. I don't really want everybody to forget about me. I just want to be loved, when I'm scared everybody hates me. Being forgotten is much easier than being hated. I don't really want to leave everybody. I just want to love them, when I'm scared I don't really know what love is. Not being there at all is better than loving falsely.
It hurts. It hurts a lot to have the things I've been avoiding for so long staring me in the face. It hurts a ton to be visibly experiencing the emotion that I'm ashamed of having. But the tears don't run forever, and the fear stops yelling once it's recognized. My heart is still wounded from all the injuries it has taken, but it feels better and so much warmer now that it has thawed. Nothing has really changed. The past is still the same. I'm still Avoidant. I still have to turn in homework tomorrow. But because I was able to be okay feeling these things, I'll be alright. Better than alright, I'll be well. I'll be happy.
TL;DR - This "grin and bear it" thing is nonsense.
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