For as long as I can remember I haven’t been able to relax. Its a very rare day when I can do something that should be enjoyable, and feel satisfied.
This has led to sleeping in (no motivation to get up), staying too long at cafes without saying anything to anybody (no reason to leave or say anything), general listlessness etc.
The overall feeling is that I’m wasting time, and that’s my job. I call this kind of existence “filler”. Its like my whole life is filler, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Part of me says that my awareness of filler is proof that I deserve better. Another part of me says that the fact that I haven’t been able to do much about it is proof that someone has it in for me.
Whatever the case, maybe some of this has to do with worry. If I didn’t worry about looking immature if I enjoy myself (my father was always serious), if I don’t worry about the consequences of friendships, or about becoming a different person than I have been, or losing the potential for life that I have been carrying with me, it seems like life would be a lot easier. I’d even get more accomplished.
Yet there is so much grit and frustration in my life that when I calm down a bit I feel like I’m letting down my defenses. What would I do if someone insulted me when I was feeling vulnerable?
There’s so much abuse going on, so much loss of what might have been, that from a certain standpoint its unjustified to be anything other than a perfectionist.
Yet having lived one way for so long its clear that I can’t take many more steps in that direction without being more practical and proactive.
Its clear that my passive attitude, or at least the conditioning that led to a passive attitude, is a curse. I have freed myself to the extent that I have certain types of creative output, but I haven’t been able to make any sort of living off of the things I do that I consider valuable. That I am unable to do so in a capitalist society engraves in me constantly the impression of a bodily insult.
Against these sensations of deservedness it is difficult to see how I can relax without admitting defeat. The defeated who once deserved better seem very foolish indeed.
I have been struggling with the idea that I am discontent with my life being overall tragic, comic, or tragi-comic. Would it do any good to find a new kind of theatre? For clearly ideas are without inherent cash value in this world… at least when it comes to improving what matters—quality of life. 7 years ago