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Vent (anxiety problems blah blah)
12 years ago
I feel a little awkward posting a journal on an art site where I'm supposed to upload art but havent' fooooor... a LONG freaking time (congrats, self, keep this shit up) and vent while I should practise drawing. But first, I'm twice as awkward having this over-the-top epiphany celebration on the profile page for everyone to see (yeah, it's kinda important but come on, it's been a year. A YEAR. This is now looking like a terrifying freeze frame) and second, I apparently have no other place to confess the following, because I've vented on my Russian blog for many times enough and am uncomfortable to share this particular issue with each and everyone who follows me there. Or maybe I'm too uncomfortable to speak about it in my mother tongue. I guess that, just like with the latest journal, it's both.
So, uh... How does one handle this state when you realize that you've been striving to become an X for a great deal of your life but a) kinda failed, b) don't even need it BUT still afraid shitless someone's going to come and get you for failing at being an X? When you feel like a literal tool which has been gladly consenting to being used but only now became aware of its objectified position and wants to break out of its predetermined role despite having no other field to turn to than the one it was crafted for? 'Cause this is how I feel now.
The X in question is an ace student, a 'nerd'. I used to be one in school but slided down abruptly in the first very university I've attended. In the second one things got better for a considerate period of time but then followed the same route. I can't study, I just can't. And it took me something like four freaking years to fully embrace the fact I have a serious problem and ain't just indulging a stupid whim. To actually start trusting the idea of maybe doing something *I* want for once instead of satisfying anyone else's anticipations.
What's killing me is that I chose the right field. I'm not studying what I hate, I love this sphere of knowledge, it's my favourite. I'm preparing myself for a profession I deeply aspire for. And even if I drop out of the college completely, I will never avoid the activities associated with learning because they're my favourite as well. I'm going to write a lot and read a lot anyway, wherever I wander. However, becuase of my aversion to studying I subsequently can't bring myself to regularly doing these.
Reading and writing seem forever defiled for me. They're defiled by the ranking system, by the utter terror of getting left behind other, more diligent students and the way too intoxitating excitement of being better than everyone else. By the vile, rotten concept of equality between 'someone who knows a lot' and 'someone worth loving' which infiltrates your mind without your and your mentors' noticing. By the sheer despair and panic the I-will-get-accepted-once-I-succeed-academically mentality has merged me into other the course of many years. I hated to admit it, I fought this, I thought it a ridiculous and disgraceful rebellion but now it's the only truth I actually adhere to: THIS BULLSHIT MUST FREE MY HEAD FROM ITS PRESENCE, RIGHT NOW. If proper and timely education is the cost - well, shit. Whatever. My freaking sanity's at stake and my grades ain't gonna ascend anyway.
Unfortunately it doesn't really matter whether I'm in or out the college. The poison has soaked deeply into my brain. Whenever I sit down to enjoy anything wit-involving (anything at all: a half-decent book, a prog rock album, even a thorough contemplation of some matter) in a corner of my conscious appears a little neatly dressed and combed perfect student (usually a she) who then starts smirking and gloating on what a pretentious moron I am. The trick is that the moment I put away the too clever book and decide on, I dunno, drawing critters or something plebeian like that, the same imaginary person begins to shame me for not doing anything about my whole moronity situation. BECAUSE IT'S CLEAR I HAVE TO. I'm so freaking stupid and ignorant y'know! And I have no business wasting oxygen until I improve. Which is, by the way, impossible according to the little pest's standards - but it's okay because suffering is good for me (cuts to evil-spectacled Gendo giggling happily under his hands).
I wish I could erase this Gendo-ing student from my inner world but they're tenacious like a dandelion. And don't get me wrong, it's not some kind of hallucination, it's just this ceaseless anxious back-thought you can't get rid of even if you want to. I imagine many people have this but I'm afraid my case is borderline grave. It impedes my living terribly, not anymore limited by academia, and I'm exhausted of searching for cure.
I've been in therapy for two years or so and it helps, but I feel exasperatingly helpless in between the sessions. My relationship with parents has gotten better and still I'm afraid to ask them for help all the time and my friends... Heh, I started having friends, surprisingly, but those my age are overwhelmed by their own struggles and the more stable and mature ones happen to be busy every day (one resides in another city, another one in another country. Freaking ace). I'm out of safe places and psychological defences, I nearly want to seek total oblivion. What kills me most is that I do have plans, I do have actual ambitions I'm ready to fulfill - I have found them at last! (The furry thing is surely one of them, lol - but seriously, this stuff here's been a marvelous source of fresh air for me.) But, once again, the anxiety cuts me from even that. And I remain hopeless.
Everyone looks so cheerful and assured due to my going back to college. And I hate that despite my own willing to keep studying I'm obviously screaming NO deep inside, and that there's almost no place where I could let it out - and my home is not one of them (even if the reason why not is my own fear and not the parents' wrath which anyway exploded rarely and by now has been retired for good).
I was raised in a healthy family, I know we're healthy. I don't even know how I managed to end up like this =___=
UPD For an extra flavour there's some cu-- I mean bright and fair lady trolling me on LJ which happens to me, uh. Never. WTF, I post once a month and have like five readers who actually give a shit about my posts. According to this unexpected visitor, you can't judge the Great Gatsby movie, especially say it sucks if you haven't read the book (I know it's classics out there in States but I'm Russian and we have a different school program, so okay, I haven't, I'm sorry, geez). Well, fuck you. I can. It sucks. It's that simple.
Now I'm going to read this motherfreaking book just out of spite. And guess what, if this self-centered prick of a protagonist is shown as sympathetically as he is in the movie, I'm gonna judge it, too, because I have a notion of good and evil and that Gatsby is not exactly nice (and unlike some people I can calmly explain why). OPINIONS HOW DO THEY WORK AND HOW DARE PEOPLE DISAGREE WITH ME <--- this right here should. Go. Away. Kay thanks.
So, uh... How does one handle this state when you realize that you've been striving to become an X for a great deal of your life but a) kinda failed, b) don't even need it BUT still afraid shitless someone's going to come and get you for failing at being an X? When you feel like a literal tool which has been gladly consenting to being used but only now became aware of its objectified position and wants to break out of its predetermined role despite having no other field to turn to than the one it was crafted for? 'Cause this is how I feel now.
The X in question is an ace student, a 'nerd'. I used to be one in school but slided down abruptly in the first very university I've attended. In the second one things got better for a considerate period of time but then followed the same route. I can't study, I just can't. And it took me something like four freaking years to fully embrace the fact I have a serious problem and ain't just indulging a stupid whim. To actually start trusting the idea of maybe doing something *I* want for once instead of satisfying anyone else's anticipations.
What's killing me is that I chose the right field. I'm not studying what I hate, I love this sphere of knowledge, it's my favourite. I'm preparing myself for a profession I deeply aspire for. And even if I drop out of the college completely, I will never avoid the activities associated with learning because they're my favourite as well. I'm going to write a lot and read a lot anyway, wherever I wander. However, becuase of my aversion to studying I subsequently can't bring myself to regularly doing these.
Reading and writing seem forever defiled for me. They're defiled by the ranking system, by the utter terror of getting left behind other, more diligent students and the way too intoxitating excitement of being better than everyone else. By the vile, rotten concept of equality between 'someone who knows a lot' and 'someone worth loving' which infiltrates your mind without your and your mentors' noticing. By the sheer despair and panic the I-will-get-accepted-once-I-succeed-academically mentality has merged me into other the course of many years. I hated to admit it, I fought this, I thought it a ridiculous and disgraceful rebellion but now it's the only truth I actually adhere to: THIS BULLSHIT MUST FREE MY HEAD FROM ITS PRESENCE, RIGHT NOW. If proper and timely education is the cost - well, shit. Whatever. My freaking sanity's at stake and my grades ain't gonna ascend anyway.
Unfortunately it doesn't really matter whether I'm in or out the college. The poison has soaked deeply into my brain. Whenever I sit down to enjoy anything wit-involving (anything at all: a half-decent book, a prog rock album, even a thorough contemplation of some matter) in a corner of my conscious appears a little neatly dressed and combed perfect student (usually a she) who then starts smirking and gloating on what a pretentious moron I am. The trick is that the moment I put away the too clever book and decide on, I dunno, drawing critters or something plebeian like that, the same imaginary person begins to shame me for not doing anything about my whole moronity situation. BECAUSE IT'S CLEAR I HAVE TO. I'm so freaking stupid and ignorant y'know! And I have no business wasting oxygen until I improve. Which is, by the way, impossible according to the little pest's standards - but it's okay because suffering is good for me (cuts to evil-spectacled Gendo giggling happily under his hands).
I wish I could erase this Gendo-ing student from my inner world but they're tenacious like a dandelion. And don't get me wrong, it's not some kind of hallucination, it's just this ceaseless anxious back-thought you can't get rid of even if you want to. I imagine many people have this but I'm afraid my case is borderline grave. It impedes my living terribly, not anymore limited by academia, and I'm exhausted of searching for cure.
I've been in therapy for two years or so and it helps, but I feel exasperatingly helpless in between the sessions. My relationship with parents has gotten better and still I'm afraid to ask them for help all the time and my friends... Heh, I started having friends, surprisingly, but those my age are overwhelmed by their own struggles and the more stable and mature ones happen to be busy every day (one resides in another city, another one in another country. Freaking ace). I'm out of safe places and psychological defences, I nearly want to seek total oblivion. What kills me most is that I do have plans, I do have actual ambitions I'm ready to fulfill - I have found them at last! (The furry thing is surely one of them, lol - but seriously, this stuff here's been a marvelous source of fresh air for me.) But, once again, the anxiety cuts me from even that. And I remain hopeless.
Everyone looks so cheerful and assured due to my going back to college. And I hate that despite my own willing to keep studying I'm obviously screaming NO deep inside, and that there's almost no place where I could let it out - and my home is not one of them (even if the reason why not is my own fear and not the parents' wrath which anyway exploded rarely and by now has been retired for good).
I was raised in a healthy family, I know we're healthy. I don't even know how I managed to end up like this =___=
UPD For an extra flavour there's some cu-- I mean bright and fair lady trolling me on LJ which happens to me, uh. Never. WTF, I post once a month and have like five readers who actually give a shit about my posts. According to this unexpected visitor, you can't judge the Great Gatsby movie, especially say it sucks if you haven't read the book (I know it's classics out there in States but I'm Russian and we have a different school program, so okay, I haven't, I'm sorry, geez). Well, fuck you. I can. It sucks. It's that simple.
Now I'm going to read this motherfreaking book just out of spite. And guess what, if this self-centered prick of a protagonist is shown as sympathetically as he is in the movie, I'm gonna judge it, too, because I have a notion of good and evil and that Gatsby is not exactly nice (and unlike some people I can calmly explain why). OPINIONS HOW DO THEY WORK AND HOW DARE PEOPLE DISAGREE WITH ME <--- this right here should. Go. Away. Kay thanks.
...
I don't think I have anything useful to say on the substance of your post, except that I am so familiar with the super-annoying critic voice that keeps you from doing or enjoying anything because nothing is ever good enough. BLAH. x_x
This link is about self-hatred instead of paralyzing self-criticism, but your vent reminded me of it: http://www.viruscomix.com/page540.html
OMG, I'm so happy you read Subnormality, too, I'm a huge fan And though I don't always download webcomic pages, I saved this one instantly because it's so TRUE and inspiring. But thank you anyway for reminding me of this :)
In fact, I relate to this strip and the rest of this character's ramblings a lot more than one might think based on my current post alone. I guess it's expected because this time I intentionally toned down the despair and anger I usually feel towards myself and the world; of which you, interestingly enough, would already know if you could read in Russian: some of my LJ posts are actually as angsty as the horror story girl's worldview, if not even more :) But I have yet to express it all on this blog.
After this you can do what you want. And write to the point of breaking your fingers