Most of my posts seem to be me exploring my inner emotional life in
one way or another, and that exploration, in some form or another ends
up with depression. I wish I could say "most of my posts lately...", but
that is not the case. It now seems to be a permanent facet of my adult
emotional life. Of course I worry that is had been so long that it is
more of a habit than a reality, but I am not sure that is the case.
I
feel anger slipping out every once and again. When I think on something
that concerns me, something that seems amiss, I worry it like a stone
in my pocket, until I find myself having angry conversations with
imaginary people in my head. Not the schizophrenic conversations, as in
hearing voices, just the everyday scenarios people play in their heads
about what should have been done or said or felt, etc.
At
the root of it now, all of it, all of the depression, worry, anger and
whatnot seems to be frustration with the course of my life and my
feeling of helplessness over things and upcoming issues that I do not
think I will be able to prevent. Imagine a ship's cabin standing on a
bridge and seeing an iceberg slowly approaching—one that will definitely
sink the ship. It's too late to change course, the engine room isn't
responding to directions, you're just drifting to disaster, unable to
stop it. That's a pretty good metaphor for much of what I think I am
experiencing.
We live in interesting times where chaos
and contention seems to be a rule. Everyone and everything is caught in
a whirlpool of anger where they project their fears and concerns into a
ball of concentrated hatred. You see it happening all around you. You
know it's wrong, but you can't seem to be able to stop it. No one
listens to you. They're so wrapped up in their fears that nothing breaks
through the cocoon.Sometimes, I am the same way. Except that I refuse
to hate anyone else except sometimes myself.
And that
might probably be the root of most of my trouble. Part of my own
frustrations, angers, etc. is my belief, as solid as any, that I am not
worthy of acceptance or praise. I feel like I have tried my best and
lost. I was naive and let opportunities fly by thinking that I had an
unending series of chances. Frustrated then, I fought against what I
thought were injustices or unfair circumstances, only to make choices
that did actual harm instead choosing to let those imaginary harms go.
The
thought I have in my best moments is essentially this: if I nurture
positive, humble beliefs about myself, maybe I can forgive my own
mistakes, learn to be detached from the imaginary outrages that seem so
real, and be the man of virtue I wish to be. Easier said than done, of
course. It seems that this is a daily battle. And one thing about my
personality that is a long-standing issue is that I easily give up when I
perceive I have failed, when all my negative biases about myself are
confirmed, and then, feeling like I have slipped back to the beginning,
have even less resolve to continue to fight against bad habits, negative
thoughts, less motivation to make good choices based on reason and
hope, rather than fear and anger.