I’m tired. In multiple sense of the word “tired”.
I feel exhausted. The pain and discomfort in my body is probably the main source of that. I’m hoping I’ll feel less physically exhausted when I give my body some self-care.
I’m mentally exhausted. I can tell my brain’s starting to go offline a little. Trying to read seems to get my brain zoning off into nothingness then I have to snap back into awareness. (This “symptom” has gotten much better than it used to be. I have a lot more mental capability than I used to.) I’m struggling to write this blog post, but I think it would have been easier to do it a few hours ago when I had more ability to focus.
I’m exhausted of life itself. All of life. Tired of this.
I haven’t even taken my morning pills yet because I got caught up in making phone calls for medical issues. Then I got caught up in just being in a confused state of mind. Confused about life and everything (What am I doing again? Why??). Being cold probably didn’t help that. I go into a kind of confused lazy state when I’m cold because my body still doesn’t adapt to temperature well.
Tired of every one step forward feeling like two steps back.
Tired of feeling like nothing I do ever gets anywhere.
Tired of my new therapist. To be blunt, she thinks she knows everything. And because of that, you can’t really talk to her. You feel trampled on. Exhausted. I hope that at some point she no longer makes me feel more powerless and defeated. But, for now, I don’t feel encourage and supported.
Speaking of which, I think I got some insight as to why people care so much about how they feel about themselves. “How you feel about yourself” may or may not match up with reality. You may think you’re capable or in control, but, in reality, we have limitations to how capable we are or how in control we are. Nonetheless, many psychologists seem to believe we should have a sense that we are as powerful as a god. I never understood this. To me being realistic and acknowledging short-comings made more sense. But then I started to realize why people want “likes” on Facebook and social media. I think maybe many of those people are living a fantasy that they are really great. For example, I knew an artist who wasn’t all that talented (I’m sure some might like her art.) I think that, with the support from her social media friends, she could believe that she was a great artist. And that can be very empowering, even if it is a little delusional. As far as psychology is concerned, what’s more important is how you feel and think, not what’s real.
Feeling as exhausted and disempowered as I do, I can see how this fantasy/delusion can help one obtain happiness and mental health (even if it causes you to waste time, take excess risks, etc. without making much actual progress in life.)
Better yet, I know someone who has an army of people supporting her and her delusional reality. She gets people to support her, to sympathize with her, to applaud her. The things is that most of the things she claims on her social media accounts are made-up stories. Nonetheless, because of this “support” and unconditional love and approval, she has a lot of confidence that people are on her side and that she is right and has never done anything wrong. Because of this mindset, she can bully other people, steal from friends, make up damaging stories about others, etc. without ever feeling like she’ll lose friends or support. She can do horrible things while feeling like everyone agrees with her.
On the other hand, those of us who aren’t vying for support feel guilty for simply being alive or having needs. We can get stepped on by these people and they can make us feel like we were in the wrong. They laugh at us, taunt us, bully and troll in every way, and have no fear that they’re not going to get away with it. And they’ll still walk away calmly with the attitude that they’re such a good person and they’re so deserving.
It’s a sick world.
So this is what therapy is for.
This is what therapy is for? So we can become one of those people? Uber-confident and smug?
Or are we supposed to become more like the artist that thinks they have a godlike talent and thinks it’s unfair that they still work in retail despite that incredible talent?
I was exhausted before I started writing. But writing this post has gotten my mind off things. Yes, I’ve wasted time. Yes, I’ll go back to feeling defeated as time slips through my fingers and my to-do list gets heavier. Yes, the world isn’t going to applaud me for writing, taking care of myself, or doing things that lift me up. (Unless that thing that lifts me up is getting more “likes”.) So, yes, this wasted time and lack of productivity is considered a symptom of “depression”.
To some extent, I think I’d rather be “depressed” and blogging than working on my depressing and defeating to-do list.
I can’t handle the list. It’s an endless exhausting desert with no water anywhere in sight.
The endless to-do list is life. I hate life.
The cure, according to psychology is to be less “depressed” and more “normal” by being more productive and doing normal things that non-depressed people do, like engaging in social media. How can I become a “normal” person when I find normal so boring, pointless, and delusional?? I’d rather be “depressed” and not be a delusional social media princess.
Okay, that might be a lie. Because, honestly, I’m jealous of the social media princesses. They’re on top of the world. I don’t think I could ever get anywhere near that level of self-assured smugness, aka happiness and self-importance.
I don’t like life.
I don’t care for it.
I don’t look forward to it.
I know that hypothetically, if I recover from my illness, I’ll be able to handle stress better. I’ll feel less sick and have less sensitivities to my environment. I’ll have less pain. I’ll feel less miserable overall. I’ll also get over that dissociated feeling. I’ll also feel less confused.
I don’t really know what that would be like because I’ve been sick for so long.
I’m tired of life. I can try to imagine the other side of things, but I don’t know that it’s possible. I can try to imagine it, but I can’t really imagine something I haven’t experienced. So I can’t imagine any rainbow at the end of my list. And so, I don’t care for the list. The only thing I know for sure in this life, is that I hate life (as I know it) and I hate the princesses.
As I look at my list, I see a huge mountain to climb. And I was already tired and in pain before I started to climb. And I already don’t have anything to look forward to.
If I could be rich one day, go on vacations, feel spectacular, things could be different.
I need an oasis. An oasis at the end of this long tunnel. Or mountain rather. An oasis at the top of the mountain. Or death. I’d be content with death. Some kind of rest.
Because nothing I do is every good enough. It never gets me anywhere. There’s no point to even concluding this blog post, to making sure my thoughts are cohesive. I have to see my therapist tomorrow, and I’m just tired. I feel defeated and drained just from thinking about it. When does this end?
What’s the point of life without an oasis? Why would anyone want to be alive?