Lifeless

Hey Guys!

So Donald Trump lost, which is pretty neat. I cried. You cried. We all celebrated in our own weird way. I cried on Friday after Georgia flipped, and I felt good for most of Saturday, and then shit kinda fell off because I realized I'd spent the last two years devoting a large portion of my daily energy towards watching the race and keeping track of all of Trump's bullshit as a means of avoiding dealing with my bullshit.

Now I find myself at this crossroad where, on one path, there's an opportunity to spend the next two years fretting about whether Democrats can get their shit together and whether the shitty moderates will give any ground to the passionate progressives, and on the other the choice to, like, not.

As I sit here, feeling pulled in all directions at once, I am forced yet again to ruminate on the bullshit I try so hard to avoid. Insecure attachment. Constant self-loathing. Eternal overeating. Lack of motivation.

The question isn't what I personally want - I absolutely have a handle on that. I want to stop burning so much energy on shit I can't control. For all the energy I spent on that race, I did fuck-all to affect it. I cast my vote in a state where the outcome of the Presidential race was never in doubt, and I don't have the influence to where my opinion meant anything to anyone who wasn't already decided.

Instead of burning my energy and handicapping my capacity by constantly fretting about whether AOC and crew are able to make further inroads into the Democratic establishment, I'd rather, like, focus on my own life. I'd rather pursue my own interests, and explore my own hobbies, and take time out of my day to do the self-care I so desperately need.

But then there's the thing about my impossible standards telling me that if I don't spend most of my waking hours watching and worrying about politics, then I'm somehow part of the problem because my id can't fucking comprehend that there's a fucking gradient to this shit. And then there's the other thing where I'm just so fucking tired of having to consciously adjust for that id, and I would so much rather avoid all of it until it fucking kills me.

I want to eat myself into a fucking coma and never wake up. I want an asteroid to hit my apartment during the night and put a stop to this conscious thought horseshit. I want wires in my brain that'll let me stay connected to the internet all the fucking time to the point where my personality gets erased by A L L  T H E  I N F O R M A T I O N.

I don't want to think. I don't want to feel. So I don't. I just fill the void with shit beyond my control so I can ride the roller coaster without having to put in actual effort. When it gets to be too much, I vent a little to friends, and then I get right back on that horse.

I have no life because I want no life.

You know what kills me most about it? It wouldn't actually be hard. I'm really good at not doing things - not obsessing over politics would be so goddamned easy for me. Being guided by my intuitive understanding of my physical and psychiatric selves would be a breeze. I'm good enough at the things I enjoy where I could get real, lasting fulfillment out of doing them, and I just don't.

Because I have to be better than me. Because my parents didn't see to my emotional needs, resulting in my being unable to feel secure. Because my entire worldview has revolved around the idea that I'm constantly within inches of losing everything, and so why bother trying to hold on to stuff?

And now I can't even be sure all of that is real because I now know how flawed it is to rely on these internal narratives of myself. Just because something makes narrative sense in my head doesn't mean that it's accurate, and acting like it is is one of the many things that puts me in my ruts.

* * * * *

Here's what's real:

You are a human being.

I am a human being.

You deserve to be loved for who you are.

I deserve to be loved for who I am.

You don't deserve to feel worthless because you're not.

I don't deserve to feel worthless.

You can remember every horrible thing you've done to another human being, yeah?

Yeah.

Do you know that's because every time you did something hurtful, you regretted it? Do you know the reason you haven't done it more often is because you learn from your mistakes? You saw the evil person you could become, and you went the opposite direction every time.

You feel so guilty, but do you realize that not everyone does that? Do you realize that a large percentage of the population just keeps on doing hurtful shit because that's what they know? Because changing is inconvenient? Being good is inconvenient. Other people's feelings are a nuisance. Having to measure the things you say to try and avoid hurting people is a drag.

That's Trump. That's the breed of people that profit off a system of human misery. That's the mindset of all those assholes who whine about the fact that other human beings want to be treated as human beings - they are the problem. You being happy will never be the problem. You taking the time to do for yourself the things your parents didn't will never propagate this system of anxiety and depression.

I want you to think about all these people whose lives you touch on a daily or weekly basis. I want you to think about all the times they've told you how much they like you, how much joy they get out of knowing you, how much it means to them to have your support. Now I want you to realize this is what you can do when you're limited by all the shit you wrote above. In your depressed, broken, hampered state, you've changed people's lives for the better. 

Now imagine what you could do if you were happy.

Imagine what you could do if you weren't burning yourself out on all this information about events beyond your reach. Imagine what you could do if you stopped beating yourself up for taking care of yourself. Just imagine if you Harrison Bergeron'd  all this dead weight you carry, as if it was your trauma, of all things, that made you good.

You were not an asshole before the bad shit happened. You never had that chance - you were born with this burden, and every inch that you have fought and bled for has been in spite of that burden.

It wanted you to become a cruel person, and you said 'no.' Every fucking time, you said 'no.'

Say 'no' to this, too. Say 'no' to this weight in your chest. Say 'no' to this mind-prison. 

'Know the wolves that hunt you

In time, they will be the dogs that bring your slippers

Love them right, and you will feel them kiss you when they come to bite

Hot snouts digging out your cuddles with their bloody muzzles' 

- Hold Your Own, Kae Tempest