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Growing up
3 months ago
Well, took me a while to get here, didn't it?
The rest of the story is slightly more eventful. I moved countries and deluded myself in to thinking I could survive off my game. As we know, it didn't really work out the way I thought, as I've detailed in my previous journals. Well, to clarify, it did work out with the production... there's a really pretty game to play now that I am proud beyond anything that I have done. But the financials and the self-sustaining side... not really. But it's okay. After a few months of pushing harder than I was comfortable with, I got very, uhm, exhausted. Real life wasn't working out, there was stress upon stress for both of us to make a living.
I ended up emotionally and mentally giving up and depending on my partner to carry us forward, with the financials and the survival. But on the other hand, I supported her the best way I could by taking care of practical tasks and chores. I tried my best to continue the game development while I was getting increasingly dissociated with, well, everything, as I hoped, prayed, banked on the game to result in... something. Because, I didn't know what else to do and refused other ways out of sheer panic. I still have that panic within me. I can't speak with people, I can't work a normal job, I can't get myself to function like a normal person because I'm steered by fear. Anyways, I didn't know it at the time, and I just kind of paralyzed in to nothingness as I realized how useless I was.
Then I did what I always did when reality hit me, and looked for comfort from another person. And I did hook on to a person. Of course. And I used her for my advantage and comfort. Of course. I feel strongly that I hate myself for going this way, but I also felt like I did this just acting on impulses. Well, let's scroll back a bit. It was the person I met in Spain and felt such a strong feeling of comfort I never felt. Then when I got home, I got the slap of reality in my face reminding me of what could've been if I actually worked on myself. And I fell deep in to depression. I don't know. During the months after that, I lost myself as my new-found remote partner first tried to comfort me, and then told me exact steps to take to help improve myself, to which I refused because, well, I was deeply afraid, and it was uncomfortable. Every single fucking stupid day I was too afraid to do anything about myself or my problems and I started antagonizing everything and everyone thinking there is no way out of this. As if I was permanently broken. This shit hurts to write. Fuck.
It proceeded until spring this year when I started mentally checking out from all the internal emotional stress and external pressure to get myself somewhere, that I was too afraid to go towards and didn't know how to go there. I tried my best to keep my composure but it was more like holding the bubbling pot lid down with bare fingers than anything useful. And I fucking argued for nothing. I tore down my new connection for petty reasons. I don't even feel like I was conscious then, just "living", reacting emotionally without any fucking grip on reality. I called my dad for the first time in a few years begging for money because I just didn't want to spend the rest of my life renting and wasting money, so I just wanted help to get myself a shitty ass apartment in the middle of nowhere - away from noise, away from people, away from everything. I don't know. I don't know!
Then I went to Spain again, and my new remote partner there was also having so many issues on her own and it all came together in a huge mental clusterfuck, so much so that on the last day I exploded in a really awkward, uncontrollable emotional way, enough to ruin it for everyone. And she ended it, because I was too stupid to change, I guess, and I broke down. And then my home partner got so fucking affected that she took control herself of the situation and made promises to my remote partner. And then I went home, like a fucking child, scarred, and mumbling in frustration, hurt and not knowing why. I cried my eyes out because I couldn't understand what the fuck just happened. Why couldn't I think, why was I breaking someone's heart and mine too, what was I trying to accomplish, what was I even aiming towards?
And then it got worse... after spending several days just panic crying and sobbing over the destruction that had just happened in front of me, it hurt such an insufferable amount that I stopped crying out of pure shock. And I tried to write down, step by step, what I was feeling, but it was just complete chaos and a jumble of incoherent, emotional explanations for why the behavior I was doing was supposedly bad, even though I couldn't believe it myself. And I wrote down most of what was of my past, my youth, my young adulthood, just like the previous two Journal entries here on FA. And my remote partner was breaking down herself over all of this and I was sent really scary, really intense expressions of self harm and saying she will be going for my home partner instead of me. And I broke. I got torn apart for it too. So I shut down all emotions that had ever existed between us to take a moment to fucking breathe during the summer.
What follows is probably the most intensely negative and turbulent mental period I've had in my life. I was trying to recover from the botched relationship and emotional collapse that I ended up reconsidering so many stupid fucking things about myself and my behavior that I never knew about, and it fucking hurt, an indescribable amount. Day in and day out, I thought over why I act a certain way, why I assume this or that about people, why I go this far to botch a relationship just because I'm uncomfortable, thinking over the painful past over and over and ripping up old scars, just fucking exploding in grief and regret and hopelessness and painful, painful heartache as I realized that I cannot continue my life to push this stupid shit that's going on in my head on to other people, expecting them to fix it and getting nowhere. I wanted to die. Literally, now when I aimed the emotional cannon on to myself and told myself to sit through the consequences of my actions, I start feeling fucking suicidal on top of it, and it's the scary kind, the one that makes it feel like a genuine solution to the suffering.
Everything hurt so deeply, everything, how I failed, what I thought, how I behaved, the lack of control, insight, ability to understand. I felt so utterly stupid that I didn't want to live. I laid in bed sobbing my eyes out over and over for weeks just taking this stupid shit, telling myself that I must do something different to pull myself out of it. So I agreed to myself that I want to change. To change, I must feel pain like this. So I let myself feel that pain. What would the pain mean? I don't know, but I sure felt lonely. I don't seem to remember much from this time. I just existed. Whatever little things that triggered me kept happening and I kept crying my eyes out. And I felt so lonely, what I had tried all my life to remove, now eating me up inside. Lonely because I have to deal with my own problems by myself.
And then I started gaining a resemblance of sanity. I got pretty angry at myself, so I tried turning it in to a skill, at the very least - building up basic knowledge and pattern recognition of what is an emotion and what is a fact. I managed to convince myself, somehow, that pain is good or even enjoyable, because it means I'm not going to be stuck like I was in the past. And I started learning what it means to actually make myself comfortable when I'm uncomfortable, which includes spending time alone and feeling out the physical senses. I started accepting that in the end, I can't resolve problems by just thinking about them, I have to DO things to really believe in them. I got really angry that this is how reality works. I am still very angry about it, but at the very least, I feel less stupid.
Maybe on a lighter note, after a few months of that, I feel more sane, perhaps? I can change, I'm not a lost cause. But it hurts like fuck and I hurt other people by it, when the main point I want in life is to care for others. Why the fuck else am I continuing this stupid game? At the same time, my partner, well both of them really, they care enough to try and make it happen even if I failed them. I don't know. Maybe it was a big lesson to finally grow up in to a responsible adult. The answer I never wanted. But I finally understand now why people do destructive things to themselves. I guess I can let it become compassion. And instead of waiting for the fucking hug, I make that hug happen to others.
The rest of the story is slightly more eventful. I moved countries and deluded myself in to thinking I could survive off my game. As we know, it didn't really work out the way I thought, as I've detailed in my previous journals. Well, to clarify, it did work out with the production... there's a really pretty game to play now that I am proud beyond anything that I have done. But the financials and the self-sustaining side... not really. But it's okay. After a few months of pushing harder than I was comfortable with, I got very, uhm, exhausted. Real life wasn't working out, there was stress upon stress for both of us to make a living.
I ended up emotionally and mentally giving up and depending on my partner to carry us forward, with the financials and the survival. But on the other hand, I supported her the best way I could by taking care of practical tasks and chores. I tried my best to continue the game development while I was getting increasingly dissociated with, well, everything, as I hoped, prayed, banked on the game to result in... something. Because, I didn't know what else to do and refused other ways out of sheer panic. I still have that panic within me. I can't speak with people, I can't work a normal job, I can't get myself to function like a normal person because I'm steered by fear. Anyways, I didn't know it at the time, and I just kind of paralyzed in to nothingness as I realized how useless I was.
Then I did what I always did when reality hit me, and looked for comfort from another person. And I did hook on to a person. Of course. And I used her for my advantage and comfort. Of course. I feel strongly that I hate myself for going this way, but I also felt like I did this just acting on impulses. Well, let's scroll back a bit. It was the person I met in Spain and felt such a strong feeling of comfort I never felt. Then when I got home, I got the slap of reality in my face reminding me of what could've been if I actually worked on myself. And I fell deep in to depression. I don't know. During the months after that, I lost myself as my new-found remote partner first tried to comfort me, and then told me exact steps to take to help improve myself, to which I refused because, well, I was deeply afraid, and it was uncomfortable. Every single fucking stupid day I was too afraid to do anything about myself or my problems and I started antagonizing everything and everyone thinking there is no way out of this. As if I was permanently broken. This shit hurts to write. Fuck.
It proceeded until spring this year when I started mentally checking out from all the internal emotional stress and external pressure to get myself somewhere, that I was too afraid to go towards and didn't know how to go there. I tried my best to keep my composure but it was more like holding the bubbling pot lid down with bare fingers than anything useful. And I fucking argued for nothing. I tore down my new connection for petty reasons. I don't even feel like I was conscious then, just "living", reacting emotionally without any fucking grip on reality. I called my dad for the first time in a few years begging for money because I just didn't want to spend the rest of my life renting and wasting money, so I just wanted help to get myself a shitty ass apartment in the middle of nowhere - away from noise, away from people, away from everything. I don't know. I don't know!
Then I went to Spain again, and my new remote partner there was also having so many issues on her own and it all came together in a huge mental clusterfuck, so much so that on the last day I exploded in a really awkward, uncontrollable emotional way, enough to ruin it for everyone. And she ended it, because I was too stupid to change, I guess, and I broke down. And then my home partner got so fucking affected that she took control herself of the situation and made promises to my remote partner. And then I went home, like a fucking child, scarred, and mumbling in frustration, hurt and not knowing why. I cried my eyes out because I couldn't understand what the fuck just happened. Why couldn't I think, why was I breaking someone's heart and mine too, what was I trying to accomplish, what was I even aiming towards?
And then it got worse... after spending several days just panic crying and sobbing over the destruction that had just happened in front of me, it hurt such an insufferable amount that I stopped crying out of pure shock. And I tried to write down, step by step, what I was feeling, but it was just complete chaos and a jumble of incoherent, emotional explanations for why the behavior I was doing was supposedly bad, even though I couldn't believe it myself. And I wrote down most of what was of my past, my youth, my young adulthood, just like the previous two Journal entries here on FA. And my remote partner was breaking down herself over all of this and I was sent really scary, really intense expressions of self harm and saying she will be going for my home partner instead of me. And I broke. I got torn apart for it too. So I shut down all emotions that had ever existed between us to take a moment to fucking breathe during the summer.
What follows is probably the most intensely negative and turbulent mental period I've had in my life. I was trying to recover from the botched relationship and emotional collapse that I ended up reconsidering so many stupid fucking things about myself and my behavior that I never knew about, and it fucking hurt, an indescribable amount. Day in and day out, I thought over why I act a certain way, why I assume this or that about people, why I go this far to botch a relationship just because I'm uncomfortable, thinking over the painful past over and over and ripping up old scars, just fucking exploding in grief and regret and hopelessness and painful, painful heartache as I realized that I cannot continue my life to push this stupid shit that's going on in my head on to other people, expecting them to fix it and getting nowhere. I wanted to die. Literally, now when I aimed the emotional cannon on to myself and told myself to sit through the consequences of my actions, I start feeling fucking suicidal on top of it, and it's the scary kind, the one that makes it feel like a genuine solution to the suffering.
Everything hurt so deeply, everything, how I failed, what I thought, how I behaved, the lack of control, insight, ability to understand. I felt so utterly stupid that I didn't want to live. I laid in bed sobbing my eyes out over and over for weeks just taking this stupid shit, telling myself that I must do something different to pull myself out of it. So I agreed to myself that I want to change. To change, I must feel pain like this. So I let myself feel that pain. What would the pain mean? I don't know, but I sure felt lonely. I don't seem to remember much from this time. I just existed. Whatever little things that triggered me kept happening and I kept crying my eyes out. And I felt so lonely, what I had tried all my life to remove, now eating me up inside. Lonely because I have to deal with my own problems by myself.
And then I started gaining a resemblance of sanity. I got pretty angry at myself, so I tried turning it in to a skill, at the very least - building up basic knowledge and pattern recognition of what is an emotion and what is a fact. I managed to convince myself, somehow, that pain is good or even enjoyable, because it means I'm not going to be stuck like I was in the past. And I started learning what it means to actually make myself comfortable when I'm uncomfortable, which includes spending time alone and feeling out the physical senses. I started accepting that in the end, I can't resolve problems by just thinking about them, I have to DO things to really believe in them. I got really angry that this is how reality works. I am still very angry about it, but at the very least, I feel less stupid.
Maybe on a lighter note, after a few months of that, I feel more sane, perhaps? I can change, I'm not a lost cause. But it hurts like fuck and I hurt other people by it, when the main point I want in life is to care for others. Why the fuck else am I continuing this stupid game? At the same time, my partner, well both of them really, they care enough to try and make it happen even if I failed them. I don't know. Maybe it was a big lesson to finally grow up in to a responsible adult. The answer I never wanted. But I finally understand now why people do destructive things to themselves. I guess I can let it become compassion. And instead of waiting for the fucking hug, I make that hug happen to others.
