Noöcosm

Edit 8/24/13: Wow, this was a terrible fucking idea. But seven years later I've finally matured enough that I can work with the responses I got, so I'm still immensely grateful for them, at least.

This is a form of personal therapy. I'll state that right up front so no one's confused about it. I am trying to fix myself.

Please read this. I know that it's dense, but it's important to me that you read it.

One of my problems has always been that I tend to sublimate disappointment and upset. I don't mean that to read as though I don't ever show outward symptoms; I always do. (Whether they're noticed by anyone else - well, that may well be a different question.) I mean that I do my best to suppress the symptoms, and the upset and disappointment themselves. This has led me to a point where any upset or disappointment, no matter how minor, has disproportionate effects, because I have the pressure of something like fifteen years of sublimation to add to whatever I'm feeling. And as a result, not only is it getting a lot harder for me to suppress and sublimate my disappointment and upset, but pretty much all of it gets blown out of proportion in my mind.

The problem with this is that I'm too good at suppression. It's getting harder, but I also know exactly what I have to do to sublimate anything that comes my way, up to a certain point. So I've been spending a lot of time lately isolating myself from everything, a lot of time doing nothing - or ultimately meaningless things that make me feel better (and I don't need to hear about how making me feel better gives the activity meaning, thanks, because no, it doesn't) - a lot of time sublimating. Eventually this will get to the point where I'm not leaving my apartment for days at a time because I don't want to have to deal with the "inevitable" disappointment of the outside world. And I really, really don't want to get to that point.

What I'm looking for is catharsis.

I want something to hurt me so badly that I can't suppress it. This isn't a masochistic urge; it's a self-preservation urge. I don't want to have to keep lying about how I feel to the people I care about; I don't want to end up not interacting with anybody, ever. I want to be able to say "I'm just fine" and mean it. I want to stop avoiding people because I'm afraid of how they'll disappoint me, or of how I'll disappoint them. (Or how I'll disappoint myself.)

In the words of one Tyler Durden, I want you to hit me as hard as you can.

Hurt me. I am inviting it. If you have ever held something back because you thought I wouldn't like it, tell me. If you have ever wanted to hurt me and stopped yourself for any reason, let it loose. If there is anything you want to tell me that you think will devastate me, I welcome it. Please hit me as hard as you have ever wanted to. I just want to feel anything other than this cold pressure in my chest.

I am screening comments to this post; in return, I ask that you not post anonymously. (If you can see this, you have a LiveJournal account, so there's no problem in that regard.) I will not respond to any of them in comments, although I may respond by email, especially if you ask me to. I will not hold anything that you say against you; if I did, this wouldn't work. On Wednesday I will be private-locking this post forever. What you say here is between you and me.

...to start a semester not feeling like I'm unwelcome and being an imposition everywhere I go.

...is my utter lack of body confidence. This is why I haven't been to Fencing Club but once; I can't stand to put myself out there like that, not looking like I do. This is also a major factor in my not going to the athletic center. I don't want to be out there, exposing myself to ridicule that I know almost certainly wouldn't come.

It's funny: I can't stand not having external validation of the things I think I'm doing well (writing, etc.), but for the things I think I'm doing poorly, I need nothing but my own paranoia.

Anyway. Comments screened. I'm not really asking for advice, but I won't say no if folks want to give it. (And although this is tagged depression, I'm deliberately not screening it.)

Self-loathing is not easily curable. It also festers if it's allowed to stagnate, which is why I post about it here.

However, it's also not something that people generally want to read about. I know this is true; there's no need to say "oh, I don't mind" or "oh, it's your journal". It makes people uncomfortable because they don't know how to fix it, or how to help, or even, a lot of the time, how to respond.

So here's the deal.

I will be making a "Depression" filter. Anyone may opt into this filter by commenting here. All posts in the Depression filter, provided that I remember to do so, will have screened comments (as will this post), so that you can respond freely.

Do not feel obliged for any reason to opt in. I will not be upset if you don't. Likewise, if you do opt in, do not feel obliged for any reason to comment on the entries you see.

Keep in mind that I will, from time to time, be baring my soul behind this filter. For that reason, I reserve the right to remove anyone.

Other than that, this will be my last public depression-themed post for the foreseeable future.

Love (III)
Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guiltie of dust and sinne.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lack'd anything.

A guest, I answer'd, worth to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I, the unkinde, ungrateful? Ah my deare,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I.

Truth Lord, but I have marr'd them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, sayes Love, who bore the blame?
My deare then I will serve.
You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.

- George Herbert

This poem was the focus of discussion in Poetry today, and it occurred to me that the sin of the speaker - that of Pride (I know better than you, Lord, why I am unworthy of your grace) - is one of mine as well. I don't know how to fix it, though. How do you stop feeling unworthy, and righteous in your unworthiness?

This year, I resolve to try to be happier.

When I think about the foreseeable future, it's all I can do not to break down in tears, because I can't think of the next time when I'm going to be able to get a decent night's sleep.

If it's not Alex, it's moving. If it's not moving, it's school. If it's not school, it's work.

I'm so damn tired. I just want to sleep well, and not be exhausted from the time I get up to the time I go to bed.