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Essential dysfunction
May. 22nd, 2014 07:44 amAhem, I have the crazies. I’ve always had the crazies, and I’m not sure how much is chemical, situational, spoiled little brat, or appropriate motivational grounds.
All relationshippy shit not discussed here.
Chemical goes without saying.
Situational: I had about a year of horrible work situation and life eating priorities which...well ate my life. While it “hurt,” it also filled me with a constant (burden) sense of purpose. I wanted relief, but in the lack of relief was a constant feeling of accomplishment. Now that my life does not suck, that happy side effect is gone or reduced. Perhaps I feel angst for not suffering - if so, I’ll adapt.
Spoiled little brat: I’ve had friends call me an abuse victim and I vehemently disagree because I was not beaten or raped, I always knew I was loved, and while my parents had personal problems that did effect me, given he spectrum I think I had an overwhelmingly positive home support experience. My sister perhaps was more spoiled, and did worse in life, but I lived a soft life where the fact my feelings were hurt was important. I was able to elicit attention for decades. All I had to do was dress funny and do my hair and poofitie, I was a little rock star. I got a secure job that tolerated my need to express. The internet validated the concept that my opinions were important to express AND made me a good person (like). The fact this is the world I live in is frighteningly lucky.
Motivation: this is my current fascination. All day yesterday, and perhaps for several days, I was tired all day. Naps no longer work, they’re just periods of not pain. Last night after the gym I was exhausted and couldn’t get off the couch for hours. I felt stupid, didn’t like the tv I was watching, but had no social outlets or plans. No chores felt like they were worth doing and I got all sad with angst. It was a baseless feeling - no source of pain, no itch to scratch. But eventually I got some energy back and annoyed, I got up and cleaned just a few things. Just a few things; wood with lemon oil, dust buffaloes with a dust mop. Turned my whining into a series of found-pop-songs and (to me ) a funny net post. In short, with enough pain over a long enough period of time, I was finally motivated to DO SOMETHING. Perhaps I need that pain to cause enough discomfort that I'm "forced" to do something. Good pain.
Sometimes I wonder about being so comfortable. My insecurities got me educated, saved money, invested, have kept me in the gym for decades, forced me to listen to people, stopped me from being a pointless slut running from high to crash to high to crash, made me a better friend, made me learn social skills and work on my weak points...that’s all to say while it may not be healthy or there may be no point to my angst whatever the source, I may do better with those bouts of crazy to push me to get off my living room ass and do something.
Also doing something gets better with practice.
Conclusion pending.
All relationshippy shit not discussed here.
Chemical goes without saying.
Situational: I had about a year of horrible work situation and life eating priorities which...well ate my life. While it “hurt,” it also filled me with a constant (burden) sense of purpose. I wanted relief, but in the lack of relief was a constant feeling of accomplishment. Now that my life does not suck, that happy side effect is gone or reduced. Perhaps I feel angst for not suffering - if so, I’ll adapt.
Spoiled little brat: I’ve had friends call me an abuse victim and I vehemently disagree because I was not beaten or raped, I always knew I was loved, and while my parents had personal problems that did effect me, given he spectrum I think I had an overwhelmingly positive home support experience. My sister perhaps was more spoiled, and did worse in life, but I lived a soft life where the fact my feelings were hurt was important. I was able to elicit attention for decades. All I had to do was dress funny and do my hair and poofitie, I was a little rock star. I got a secure job that tolerated my need to express. The internet validated the concept that my opinions were important to express AND made me a good person (like). The fact this is the world I live in is frighteningly lucky.
Motivation: this is my current fascination. All day yesterday, and perhaps for several days, I was tired all day. Naps no longer work, they’re just periods of not pain. Last night after the gym I was exhausted and couldn’t get off the couch for hours. I felt stupid, didn’t like the tv I was watching, but had no social outlets or plans. No chores felt like they were worth doing and I got all sad with angst. It was a baseless feeling - no source of pain, no itch to scratch. But eventually I got some energy back and annoyed, I got up and cleaned just a few things. Just a few things; wood with lemon oil, dust buffaloes with a dust mop. Turned my whining into a series of found-pop-songs and (to me ) a funny net post. In short, with enough pain over a long enough period of time, I was finally motivated to DO SOMETHING. Perhaps I need that pain to cause enough discomfort that I'm "forced" to do something. Good pain.
Sometimes I wonder about being so comfortable. My insecurities got me educated, saved money, invested, have kept me in the gym for decades, forced me to listen to people, stopped me from being a pointless slut running from high to crash to high to crash, made me a better friend, made me learn social skills and work on my weak points...that’s all to say while it may not be healthy or there may be no point to my angst whatever the source, I may do better with those bouts of crazy to push me to get off my living room ass and do something.
Also doing something gets better with practice.
Conclusion pending.
