It’s difficult to describe. A strange combination of boredom and fear. It’s not boredom or fear that I’ve ever experienced before; and I’ve been trying for weeks to get a handle on what exactly it is but can’t seem to find the words. So I’ve decided to go for an “off-the-shelf” solution, and simply assign the terms to the feelings that I’m having so I can stop feeling so damn weirded out and floaty all the time.
When a word doesn’t seem to exist for what you’re feeling, it’s scary. You can’t even explain it to yourself, or talk to anyone about it, really. Every attempt falls short of the expression needed, and you want to escape from the horrible reality of that moment; the reality that without some mystical, missing key of connection to another person, where communication has transcended words (no small ask), you are alone. Even if someone else IS feeling what you’re feeling, you can’t make that connection with them. You’re as ignorant to them as they are to you. Unless, of course, they have found the key, and you haven’t yet. Then you’re the one who isn’t listening.
It’s not all negative, though. I feel more love for humanity and the planet than I’ve ever felt before. I crave the glory of nature, the simplicity of fresh air and the feeling of rain on my cheeks, and my spirits are lifted high by a smile from a stranger on the tube, of the sound of a baby laughing, or a tale of someone who has done something remarkable for love. I’m a walking bag of polarity, and the charge is both thrilling and a bit scary.
It’s all very strange. All consuming (which may be a good thing), but strange. And more than a bit unsettling. What do you do when you have all of this emotion inside you, all of these questions and cravings, but are lacking the ability to share it, or express it truthfully? I know one thing. The energy turns inward, and begins to consume you. And something needs to be done with it.
I’ve been searching for some kind of explanation, or guidance, on what it might be that I’m going through. My immediate consideration was, of course, that I’m simply a bit depressed, and did a load of research on that topic. My conclusion? That yes, I get depressed sometimes, on an almost cyclical basis – but that is nothing new to me. I’ve known that for a long time, and that’s okay. I get it. The research didn’t yield much new information, other than the stark reality that I’m further along the “not so stable” scale than I would like to think. That said, I believe that being on the apparently more desirable end of conventionally stable probably means an affliction of very deep self – delusion, which may well be worse. I don’t know. Who am I to judge, anyway?
No one. I’m really no one to judge. And no one is anyone to judge me, either. This is becoming a deeply entrenched concept in my own psyche; that my life is mine to tread, however I wish, and no one has the right to judge me, or tell me what to do. I have the right to be whoever I want to be, in every context, and the world can stop trying to fill me up with its bullshit about what I’m supposed to be doing with myself. Or who I’m supposed to be. Being told what to do, even subliminally, makes me angry in a way that I didn’t realise I was capable of. It’s pretty scary, actually.
I feel like some kind of crazy person, letting myself get so frustrated and angry about things that are so deeply entrenched in our culture and have been normalised. I can’t bring myself to engage in debate anymore, because I know that there are plenty of things that I simply can’t change, but despite this intellectual concept that I cling to of letting it all go, and being free of it, I can’t do it. In my core, I can’t let it go. So I do the cowardly thing, and avoid it altogether.
But I’m not free of it. I’m not free of the angst, of the emptiness, of the frustration. I feel angry, sad, lonely (again, off the shelf words for a feeling that I can’t really describe properly), and most of all, I don’t know, I feel trapped within myself all the time. I want to be able to be out in the world without being so affected by it; to exercise a cool detachment from what I see whilst retaining a perfect, moment to moment involvement in all that is real. I want to be free of my own bullshit, and my ego is not letting it happen. I want to be free to just be. And at the moment, my ego won’t let me. And my Inner Critic wants me to suffer and sabotage myself. Both are doing a very good job of stating their cases, and I feel powerless to stop their campaign.
In fact, my ego and Inner Critic, together, are in complete control. If they weren’t, I probably wouldn’t even be writing this. I’d be too busy living my life and I would be able to handle the realities that struck at every moment. I’d be able to let it all go and find the elusive key to self-expression and human connection that I feel is so agonisingly close, but is infinitely far away.
The key has to be here somewhere, right? Or am I kidding myself completely? Is all of this self- expression, what-is-the-meaning-of-it-all stuff just a cover for something that is so deeply entrenched that I can’t even see it? Will I ever see it? What is it that I’m looking for, anyway?
The world feels like a very different place to me these days. It’s as though I’ve been operating on one plane, and now I’m sitting in a corner, watching the world’s play pass through each scene and act. I’m not in it anymore. I’m somewhere else. But I’m lost. I don’t know quite where I am, and when I tentatively wander into one of the games I used to play, I feel completely isolated. And bored. It’s not where I’m meant to be, anymore. I know that. Trouble is, I don’t know where I’m meant to be instead. I feel free of the prison of the outside world, but I’m trapped by my Self. And all it’s crazy voices and preconceptions and inadequacies.
If I could just get my mind together……..
One step, one moment at a time.