Abandoned Character
(he./him)
- Mar 24, 2023
- 274
A little over two years ago I made an account here. A lot has changed since then, and at the same time a lot has stayed the same.
I am dating someone for the first time in my life. I applied for health insurance. I got a service job--something to fund the distractions. I picked up dancing and board gaming. I started medication, with questionable results.
Yet, I still am without my college degree, the thing I am obligated to finish, just shy of one report that shouldn't be taking me this long to complete. For all of my ambitions I am still waiting for the motivation to come. They say that you must wake up each day deciding the kind of life you want to lead and commit action to that and that only. What life do I want to lead?
I am at a point in my life where all of the high goals and dreams I had as a kid feel like delusions now. As Carl Sagan prophesized, awesome technologies are in the hands of the few. I live in the richest country in the world and I have no hope for the future. All of this lamenting and the other voice in my head can't help but shout "get over yourself! go and do the thing regardless of what tomorrow looks like," and I know that he is right. Every misstep is just that: a small diversion from the path, not a catastrophic stopgap. Just like losing track of the breath in meditation, we count that as the point of the practice. Return to the object of focus.
If I wait for the motivation to come, 2 years from now I will be making the same post. Each moment I apply myself, like writing this godforsaken report, I yearn for anything but. A rage swells inside of me acting as a tidal wave of inertia against progress. Even so, writing off suicide, what options do I have other than believing that progress is still possible?
Perhaps I must accept that there is no magical point in my life where I will feel like I am past all this. Whatever label I can concoct for this affliction is not going to change its existence. This is me, this is my vehicle. A terrifying thought to accept that my mind in its incessant interrogation of the world, finding minutia in what most consider trivial, is here to stay. Healing is not wishing this vehicle to be any different, but accepting its strengths and weaknesses in radical honesty and compassion. And most importantly, allowing this inner child to belt and holler towards the sun regardless of what others might say. Really, it is not what people say that is most crippling to me, but the projection of what I think they would say that paralyzes me the most. Or maybe its just laziness. No, it really could be the anxiety associated with being percieved, of which I am hyperaware of.
Pondering myself in circles again, wanting to gain something from this exercise. Wanting to tie this all in a bow and come out of this with newfound motivation to complete my tasks. Alas, I must go to work now. What is all of this for again?
I am dating someone for the first time in my life. I applied for health insurance. I got a service job--something to fund the distractions. I picked up dancing and board gaming. I started medication, with questionable results.
Yet, I still am without my college degree, the thing I am obligated to finish, just shy of one report that shouldn't be taking me this long to complete. For all of my ambitions I am still waiting for the motivation to come. They say that you must wake up each day deciding the kind of life you want to lead and commit action to that and that only. What life do I want to lead?
I am at a point in my life where all of the high goals and dreams I had as a kid feel like delusions now. As Carl Sagan prophesized, awesome technologies are in the hands of the few. I live in the richest country in the world and I have no hope for the future. All of this lamenting and the other voice in my head can't help but shout "get over yourself! go and do the thing regardless of what tomorrow looks like," and I know that he is right. Every misstep is just that: a small diversion from the path, not a catastrophic stopgap. Just like losing track of the breath in meditation, we count that as the point of the practice. Return to the object of focus.
If I wait for the motivation to come, 2 years from now I will be making the same post. Each moment I apply myself, like writing this godforsaken report, I yearn for anything but. A rage swells inside of me acting as a tidal wave of inertia against progress. Even so, writing off suicide, what options do I have other than believing that progress is still possible?
Perhaps I must accept that there is no magical point in my life where I will feel like I am past all this. Whatever label I can concoct for this affliction is not going to change its existence. This is me, this is my vehicle. A terrifying thought to accept that my mind in its incessant interrogation of the world, finding minutia in what most consider trivial, is here to stay. Healing is not wishing this vehicle to be any different, but accepting its strengths and weaknesses in radical honesty and compassion. And most importantly, allowing this inner child to belt and holler towards the sun regardless of what others might say. Really, it is not what people say that is most crippling to me, but the projection of what I think they would say that paralyzes me the most. Or maybe its just laziness. No, it really could be the anxiety associated with being percieved, of which I am hyperaware of.
Pondering myself in circles again, wanting to gain something from this exercise. Wanting to tie this all in a bow and come out of this with newfound motivation to complete my tasks. Alas, I must go to work now. What is all of this for again?
