I’ve been laying low.
Mostly, I have been writing, though near the end of each article, I end up seeing “why it won’t work”, or why its not consistent or even why people wouldn’t like it.
Though, before anyone else fits into the situation, if “I don’t like it”.
The perfectionists paralysis. It’s not that I haven’t lived, nor is it anything to do with me not being good enough. It is simply me, not liking me and not being enough for me.
Unless I spend hours and hours, going over my work again and again fine-combing every little detail and smoothing over every little creese- Even the ones that aren’t there… – I cannot publish the work. No matter how much I want to. Then I end up wondering if I should do this blog, or if I should continue writing altogether. Maybe its the pressure speaking, or simply the perfectionism standards above my head or on my shoulder feeding me doubts over and over.
Truth is, I haven’t been reading enough lately; this becomes clear by the length of my “micro-articles”.
Brené Brown puts it pretty clearly in her book The gifts of Imperfection.
“Understanding the difference between healthy striving and perfectionism is critical to laying down the shield and picking up your life. Research shows that perfectionism hampers success. In fact, it’s often the path to depression, anxiety, addiction, and life paralysis.”
Even if I take this point of view into account and decide to be vulnerable and mistake prone. I often find that my work is convoluted and unhinged. The reason for this, I believe is to do with my lack of inner structure, or simply because I am lazy.
Though, I’m not lazy. I am anything but lazy. Though I am worn down.
You see the difference is that lazy is not wanting to do anything and being content with doing nothing. I like that, sometimes I agree to be lazy.
It’s a difficult pill to swallow, because my entire life I have always had many ambitions.
I have strived to push myself further and further and do better and better, up until burn out. I fact I’d railroad my body, because I believed that looks is how I’d be loved.
(F**k you media based society !) Be it through sport, work, or simply pushing myself in anything I do. At the moment though I feel really tired to say the least; I haven’t been listening to my body well enough, since “Ever”. I have been getting up, going forward and pushing the limits of what my body can accept. The whole concept Americans seem to smear everywhere since they’ve had access to cameras is of “Get out of your comfort zone”.
Though, this simply cannot apply to me anymore. Every time I push past my “comfort zone” and into the abyss of the unknown “Shit happens” and not in the good way.
You see, I’ve been afraid of a few things. Some of the fears that were held high above my head weren’t mine though.
Let’s start at the beginning: I’ve never felt afraid of much. In fact, I have always believed that we must confront our fears head on as soon as we know what they are, and I did.
Up until a circumstance which blew up in my face during a burnout. My First BURN OUT!
During this Burn Out, which happened to shape my entire life differently -in fact in bloody destroyed my entire life – years and years of emotion came washing over me like ocean waves coming to crush and paralyse me.
Crippled with FEAR, Ideas.. NO, convictions ! Convictions took over. I was already aware that being in public was emotionally draining for me. Though, now I had actual thoughts to backup the physical reality of being an introvert. Not that I knew what an introvert was, and even if I did, I associated with the idea of being an extrovert because I had shaped myself into one through Sales, and a life of pushing myself. (Dale Carnegie is a bitch… especially if one reads Quite by Susan Cain. We are not all extroverts and living up to that idea is simply nuts !)
Needless to say, my mind had been shaped to Succeed, failure wasn’t an option and I wasn’t about to back down to this “Challenge” that life had thrown at me. “Thats simply not who I am!” – or so I thought naïvely clutching on to an idea of what I was supposed to be. If I had waited to burn out, just a few years I could have been a motivational speaker like “Jason Capital” – reciting peoples books for leverage ! haha…
Back to the story line! The vast space between where my emotions and my mind were way too far to bridge. So began 7 years of pain, fear, isolation and in societies point of view -inaptitude-. I had touched the bottom of the well and it was so far down, I couldn’t see any light from down there… (more on this in another article).
The difficulty, mainly bridging where my emotions were and how my mind would railroad my body like a drill sergeant. It was simply unhealthy. Hence why I snigger when I see all these CrossFit Gym addicts who go for ultramarathons and push their bodies without caring to listen to the cries of their bodies. The whole Americanised concept of mind over matter is a bunch of BS.
My knee’s are now fucked up from long distance running and competitive soccer for hours on end, my adrenals are blasted from pushing myself more and more, my entire nervous system is fucked beyond repair because I am always alert and need to get my share of conquering ( I need a shit tone of rest now!).
My body has simply given up on me, even if I have had a very alpha-like life, always being a jock around friends etc, until … none of anything I was or had been doing made sense at all. Who the fuck was I?! Because, I sure as hell wasn’t some insensitive jock who didn’t care about people and played “mr confidence” around the girls at school… Though, that was an outer shell that I had somehow constructed in order to survive and be loved by what I thought others would like. So I dressed very dapper like Chuck Bass, and had some pretentious arrogant way about me which, somehow intrigued girls at school..
How could I simply accept to let go of who I was, and embrace some strange inner emotional need that I’d never had to face in my life? How could I simply let emotions take over and lead me into a shit existence without any control over what I want or any form of ego? How could I be loved if I was ugly? And maaany many more questions decided to take siege in my head. A Life lead trying to please everyone but myself.
A recipe for disaster!
I actually started this blog in 2014, though never published anything of any consistence, due to not feeling good enough or that my life wasn’t interesting enough.
Funnily enough, I believed that, after high-school and breaking up with my “high-school sweetheart”, I’d have to go through pain. I’d have to really hurt in order to be interesting. Some sort of spiritual enlightenment thing where we go through pain and hurt so much we can’t not wake-up and become enlightened. Yeah, you guessed it !
It didn’t work and I went through a tone of pain… For nothing !
For around 7-8 years, my life went up and down an I’d push my body to its every limit in order to be better, so I could be loved. I’d push myself further and further in order to be accepted.
I even attempted to become a woman in order to be loved by the other sex.
That didn’t work out either, I couldn’t go through with it.
I couldn’t make myself gay… and I also couldn’t accept guys for some reason.
Like some sort of inner barrier which we can’t over step.
Then I had a kind of wakeup call, where I realised I don’t have to do anything to be loved, and that I was searching for that ideal guy, the empathetic, funny, patient, strong and caring person… Me! Of course, I couldn’t find myself in any other guy, because there’s only one of me. So that was that. Back to being simple me…
After having gone through the horrible process of thinking that I had some sort of Karmic debt I needed to clean up before being loved, nearly killing myself twice by jumping off the 8th floor of my student accommodation, somehow landing in the psychiatric ward Twice for not being able to accept my reality, then a third time to then go through transition, loosing my entire entourage of “friends”, loosing my sport hobbies, identity, sanity and pretty much every great accomplishment from running speeds, to long shot soccer goals, being with super pretty girls, or even passing my a-levels, getting in to Law school, and the list just never stops growing…
I stand here, wondering why nothing I write seems good enough, or why I simply cannot accept myself fully enough to be loved by myself or another human being…
Cutting my articles short, because I don’t feel they are good enough for todays world.
Or because I don’t feel inspired enough to make an interesting article devoid of incessant blabbering about myself. You know, the contrary to those Highly educated journalists who become bloggers and have intricately detailed and structured stories with some sort of sales pitch which makes you want to subscribe and buy a product they aren’t even selling yet… Inadequate, yes, thats the word.
Samuel Beckett puts it well with his- ‘Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” quote.
Though, I feel I have failed everything and have succeeded in nothing. In fact I’ve destroyed myself in trying to be worthy of others, and now I feel less than worthy due to the fact that I don’t have some yacht, a sports car, a great career …
all I have to my name is my hyper expensive type writer and my loopy brain: