"Is it dead?" he wondered....

I think I need to vent again. I don't know where this is going, or where it will begin. I am not even entirely sure what it IS. I just know that its got to that point where I need to talk about it, lest it drown me and drag me to that dark place again.

While this is not applicable all the time, and may even only apply in very limited circumstances, practical reality can be really fucked up. Maybe fucked up is not strong enough a word. I am, of course, referring to that short live yet incredibly potent relationship that is out of bounds due to practical issues. But I am getting ahead of myself.

I think if you have read anything I have said before this, you will be aware that I went through a really bad low not so long ago. I think the bottom point was catalyzed by aforesaid incident. I have, however, since then got to a MUCH better place. The depression is largely under control. I feel it was amplified by the fact that I didn't deal with my....well....loss, I guess would be the right word. However, given that there was no future possibility, it seemed like a non-issue not too soon after. My brain convinced my heart of the futility, and it seemed under control.

It is still there though, that gnawing feeling of loss. Looking back now, at my attempts at relationships since then (IF you can call them that) I realise that I have become so terribly disconnected. I think maybe I convince myself that I am ok, and that all wounds are healed to only leave scars, and that those scars don't hold me back. I get this feeling however, that one wound is not so benign. 

It seems more and more that I am closing in on myself. I don't seem to open up anymore. I realise that I wouldn't even CONSIDER really opening up till well into a relationship. This effectively means that I am killing any possibility before it happens. This also means that there are a few people who have spoken to me extensively, and yet left before they even scratched the surface. That may very well be my subconscious sabotage working its magic. In this day and age of instant gratification, everyone is looking for the "thrill". Everyone wants things to happen fast and hard. Me, I have become an old careful soul. I need time, and a continued presence in my life and a belief that someone MIGHT stick around before I'd consider opening up. Needless to say, this effectively makes the possibility of a relationship all but impossible.

And I am losing interest. I am finding more and more ways to keep myself occupied, and I am beginning to notice that there is really little room for anyone else in it. I know that there is this subconscious and possibly primal desire to be with one of the few (if not only) people who can make you feel....home. Consciously however, I have all but given up. I dismiss the ideas whenever they come to mind, most often. I have gotten to being satisfied with the few fantasies in my head. Nothing spectacular, just regular stuff.

Which makes me wonder if the part in me that loves, in that sense, has died. I increasingly feel like the possibility of being with someone else is terribly unsettling. I might even go so far as to say that it seems......scary. I wonder if there is something in me, which would generally need to function to have a successful healthy relationship, which has died.

I guess these are all questions which can only be answered if I actually meet someone who eclipses how I feel about her. I don't know that that will ever happen. I don't know if its possible. Till then, I guess I shall bide my time. Perhaps, I will be "that" uncle, who is old and unmarried but "pretty cool". Maybe I'll be the eccentric old guy who makes for a good story but isn't too good with where he kept his keys. I guess, time will tell... So, till next time...

Deatched......

I have come to realise that as of late, I am going through an extreme sense of detachment. Not that I was ever the type to be particularly attached, for quite some time now. However, I have noticed an increase in its intensity. As of late, I no longer actively pursue ANY sort of relationship. Rather, my relationships have gained a more....reactive tone, shall we say?

What I mean is that I rarely initiate contact with people without a plausible reason. Yes, it is quite a secluded existence and yes, I do get lonely. However, given my two conditions which I must balance, at the moment it is the easiest way to balance things out. I no longer wish to do more than "make myself available" if and when the few people I have allowed into my life in a true sense (and have remained) need someone. It is in a sense helpful, because that way you stop worrying. Rather I stop worrying.

I stop worrying that a young girl will grow up with habits which will make it extremely difficult for people to care about her. I stop worrying that a guy who suffers from a diagnosed mental illness will continue to surround himself with spoilt immature and selfish people and find out too late that none of those people will actually be there when shit hits the fan. I stop worrying that a girl will make life choices based on sympathy, succumbing to social pressure and her own empathy ultimately assigning a life of dissatisfaction and regret to herself. In short, I stop worrying.

Well, not quite. As the above would indicate, I think I would be fooling no one to say that I do NOT worry at all. Rather, I have understood that these things are beyond my control. I have also realised that I need to pay close attention to my own volatile mental state, because...lets face it, its not like anyone ELSE is going to! So, detachment it is....

Subliminal concerns

Well, I don't know if they are necessarily "subliminal" since I'm actually articulating them, but well....artistic license and all that if you will!

After a VERY long time, I am doing good. Possibly the best I've ever been, and due to no external element- which is nice. I have grown into what I feel is a...shall we say.....sufficiently self-proficient being. So far, I find this to be the most effective attitude/perception/philosophy. Self-reliance means that you don't depend on others to stay sane, or cope- which leads to a lot less hurt and pain. After all, if you don't depend on people to hold yourself up, and if you can not allow others to affect your...."palace" (shall we call it)...you find that you are able to control your life to a great extent because you stop reacting to everything around you and instead choose your actions. Granted there is still much which isn't within your control, but at least you've taken hold of those things you can. It gives one strength to know that, at least it does to this "one".

It does, however, also increase that feeling of loneliness. You realise then, that all these things are merely a way in which you cope with that reality which, (although you've come to accept) you know is still nagging you deep within. That reality that you feel incredibly alone, not so much because you have no one but rather because you realise that there is unlikely to be anyone who really can understand and be there. So you put on a brave face, you stay positive, and are generally happy. In fact, most of the time you feel great- especially considering the stark contrast the present is to the deep hole you didn't even dare to look out of because you feared that the contrast the light created to your surroundings would quell even your tenuous logical argument to carry on.

Either way, I feel for now I have found the best balance I can. I have stopped expecting or caring particularly about maturity or sense in others, as it is becoming increasingly rare. In fact, for the most part I feel I just immerse myself in my surroundings without really looking at how I fit in, the larger picture if you will. This makes all of the above insignificant. I do worry, though, that my disinterest in actively maintaining relationships will make me mechanical and.....cold. People might stop actually attempting to keep me in their/stay in my life. Of course, there is likely always going to be new people, but one never knows such things. I guess the problem with being over-sensitive is that you reach that point where you would rather avoid stimuli than face the barrage if you don't.

I am becoming increasingly solitary, and this is starting more and more to sound like the journal entries of a man alone on an island detailing his existence lest he forget he does. However, the duration of this post is as long as I'm willing to dwell on it at this point of time. Maybe I will have to deal with it later, but that is (as they say) a "tale for another day"......

Depression and the empathic mind...

So I'm finally emerging from the depths of a particularly dark and extended spell of depression. I feel so much better now, especially in contrast to what I was feeling (or rather wasn't feeling) for so long. It makes life that much easier to live, because you now need so much less to feel positive than you used to. But that is not what I came here to articulate, so let me move on swiftly...

As is usually my manner, I spent the better part of my depression attempting to analyze and deal with it like I usually do. You'll note that I used the word "attempting" in conjunction with "analyze and deal with", instead of the latter by themselves. This is because, for the fist time, something strange happened. I was actually unable to deal with my own emotions or lack thereof. And I could not for the life of me understand why I, who is the very person who preaches about dealing with problems rather than avoiding them for later, could not practice what I'd preached.

You see, I was faced with a massive dilemma. I was experiencing the void of emotion (apathy) that is depression, which meant that I had no feelings; that I was numb (if you want to understand this better, please visit Hyperbole and a half's blog posts here (1) and here (2) ). But then, there was the fact that I was feeling the emotions of others as acutely as before; even more so perhaps, as I was now essentially an empty vessel. And this obviously added to the insignificance I felt, and led to a suspicion that I no longer had a sense of....self. It makes sense if you think about it- if you have a glass jar which was once full, but now is empty, with so many different concoctions being poured into it, obviously you will eventually almost forget that the jar exists and that it had its own contents save when you wonder how the various concoctions are held in place. That, essentially, was a fairly decent analogy to my inner self; my soul, my emotional center.

So obviously rather than connect the two facts, that I was both an empath and suffering from severe depression, I considered something else. I started to consider that perhaps the acuteness of the emotions which I had felt had taken over so much space in my head, that I no longer able to feel for myself. That in turn bred a terrible resentment within me, which was aimed at something that is essentially my core; my empathy. Needless to say this made an almost impossible situation in fact impossible for quite some time. And all the while there I was, living other people's lives vicariously, with little to no warning and almost no control over it. I cannot explain how....lost you feel. You relate to people not because you empathise anymore, not quite. You relate to them because you LITERALLY know what they are feeling, albeit without having experienced what they are experiencing in order to feel the way they do. So its like this dysfunctional mimicry or duplication of a beings emotions in an empty shell which then objectively analyses it and not only breaks it down for you, but also offers possible solutions. I cannot comment on the effectiveness of the actions just mentioned, but I can say that it makes one feel less than existent.

Thankfully though, I was given a small reprise which, coupled with the frustration at the extent to which my depressive state had grown and the period which it lasted, I was finally able to step aside and see things clearly. So it is a relief to be discussing this all in hindsight, from the safety of my more solid mindset. It feels so good to feel like myself again. I cannot describe what it is like to loath what you had become and have become something so warped from what you were that your actual self was a stranger to you.

However, like every dark cloud, this too has a silver lining. I feel so much more stable, and so much stronger than I was before. I am able to enjoy and appreciate everything so much more easily, and am much better equipped to distribute my unrelenting positivity in the face of any black hole, without it being a hollow reflection of what it used to be. I find great solace in my current mindset, and hope that I will be able to continue in the same vein at least for a while longer. 

I'd like to make a small deviation here in order to salute a very very good articulation of what depression is, by the uber popular blogger "Hyperboleandahalf". If you are a depressive, or want to understand it better to help someone who deals with depression to better help them cope (or at least attempt to) or for any other reason whatsoever, I'd suggest visiting her blog posts. Its definitely worth a read, and decidedly more effective and dull than what I have said here.

 

Anyway........so that, in a (slightly large) nutshell is what depression is to an acute empath. I hope you could take something out of this, or at the very least enjoyed the read. Thanks for stopping by. So till next time.......

Being me....

So....its been a while hasn't it? Thought I ought to take some time to visit my forgotten friend. Look at me! Talking to my blogs like they were people! :P

So, just a small vent. Nothing terribly major or profound, just a minor (well, sort of) vent.

So being an empath REALLY can drive one around the bend. I swear, on multiple occasions I have wondered if I was suffering from either Bi-polar disorder or Schizophrenia. That is how fast my moods can vary in a blink of an eye. And its hard to deal with. You feel like you're drowning in emotions, and most often they are not even your own. So much so that its easy to lose yourself, to forget to feel personally. It came to a point I started to feel so numb that I think all I COULD feel was everyone else. Let me tell you, it is not cool.

I did, however, FINALLY manage to find my center, as it were. After a long time, I feel like myself. I finally took time to deal with my own feelings, and come to terms with things as they were. Finally created a moment for myself to just breathe, since I realised that I could not wait for life to give me one. So, I stopped and just took a breath; took stock of my life, and finally found a sense of inner peace. And I feel so much better. I'm glad I'm finally leaving those last remnants of my past behind and actually moving forward. I don't doubt that the blows will keep coming, but this time I will be standing, and I will face them with a smile that I will hold on to past the time I should frown, because that makes everything better. I will be the change I want to see, and no longer feel like the shell I'd become.

So, here's to hope; even when it seems like its not there anymore, even after you feel too scared to hope, and even when there just seems to be nothing that can make you hope anymore. Here's to powering on, to being a force of nature, and willing your life to improve despite the circumstances which continuously threaten it. Here's to the cockroaches and dragons; forever misunderstood, only ever on the fringes of being seen for what they are, and sometimes not even really transcending the bounds of mythology; but forever moving forward, surviving, and thriving. So till next time....

Existence

Funny thing, to exist. You survive day by day, doing what you must. Just getting by. It's not living, it's...well, it is what it is. Call it what you will. But, I guess the most bitter pill to swallow is the complete and utter lack of choice, while being fed an illusion to the contrary.

In a way, that's why the term "live your life" becomes so ironic. Because, you aren't really living, for the word implies that you have control of the whole. But if one is honest with oneself, you realise that in the grand scheme of things, you really have no control. Because all we can do is deal with what life throws at us. Which is why I guess I can appreciate why so many people prefer to believe in God, or Allah, or some other presumably definable entity. Because there is some comfort to be had in the belief that the unseen force that governs the universe adheres to a logic which is within man's grasp. It's ironic really, because they are right in their subconscious belief. The logic isn't beyond human understanding. The sad part though, is that the over complication leads more to misunderstanding than it's actual goal. Because, if one can objectively analyze one's experiences, it becomes clear that the logic is much simpler. Balance. While how it's achieved may be beyond us, because the connections are so complex, that is the basic character of the force. For example, it will almost inevitable be those who are strong enough to handle it, who will be put in the worst situations. They are sometimes visible to others, these circumstances; but often, there is no visible sign. On the face of it, their lives seem good. Like everything is fine. No one really knows what goes on. But that is me veering off topic onto personal experience. At the end though, one must realise that whatever happens, will always be explainable in relation to balance. It may not be clear initially, or ever at all for that matter. But if something happens, it is always connected to the tapestry that is reality, maintained by the force that is balance, interconnected by the threads that are attachments. Unfortunately, this knowledge will nerve afford the comfort that can be had by means of a structured religion. But unfortunately, the fickle flower of ignorance once touched, cannot be restored.

Why it's so hard

<p>I think I FINALLY am able to, rationally, articulate why this time, it's different. Why, unlike before, this time I'm actually going to find it almost impossible.</p>
<p>I really didn't believe in this whole concept of “The one". Well, at least I didn't for myself. And somehow, that made things easier, strange as that is. I took a certain amount masochistic satisfaction in being the ever the suffering, forever the alone. Because, I could scoff glibly at the chances of meeting that one person, who would be above everyone else, for me. Because even the last time, while I didn't think it was likely, there was always a possibility of something better. Somehow, you could accept something less, since you didn't know what to compare it to. You can take reality, knowing that the dream is just that; a dream; fiction; unreal.

But now, it's become real. It's no longer just a slim chance that is almost certainly going to never be realised. So, now I have to convince myself to accept something less, AFTER seeing what it COULD have been. What, dare I say it, SHOULD have been. And that, makes all the difference. That, is what makes it so unbelievably hard. That, is why, life lost what little solace it had. I know I'll accept something less eventually. I have to. But...sigh. words fail me. And I guess that's all there's left to say.

“Two months of madness" by- Forever-the-spoon

I think I understand now.. I think I've finally, completely understood my purpose..why I'm here.. And, lonely as it may be, I guess at least it's something I can work with..perhaps. Only time will tell I guess..

Looking back at my life, I've realised that, it's always been about helping others.. Caring about them. Fixing whatever I can, however incremental and often seemingly insignificant it may seem. Life works out, that way. I feel alright, and less useless, and can believe I belong..almost.

However, as with every good story, there is always the pinch of salt; the twist in the plot; the catch- there's always a catch. In this story, the catch is that, I'm not supposed to expect anything. That's when everything starts going wrong. And unfortunately, as I now see, it's not only for ME that things can go wrong. At least till now, it was a matter of me suffering the consequences, and eventually picking up the pieces, and dragging on. But obviously, since I was getting too comfortable with that routine, the universe decides “Hmmmm, he's forgetting his place.. Let's remind him in the most brutal way possible".

So here I am..again. Forced to acclimatize myself to a new private Hell. And, sadly, I almost couldn't bring myself to write this, because the only person who is likely to see this will go through even more pain because of it. But, sigh...I have no other option. I say this, because I've realised something else.

So far, my coping mechanism has been to let it all out. Vent. To the few people I'd trust. And it helps. At least, it used to. But this time, I realise that it's completely useless. Their intentions are all good, so not that I blame them.....But all they seem to see, is what it seems on the outside...the “reality", as it were; the hard truth. But here's the thing...so do I. And I'm doing what I have to. And I know what I have to do. So telling me, for example, that I need to “move on" isn't going to fucking help now is it? I KNOW that's what I have to DO. The problem is, this time, it's going to be next to fucking impossible. And EVERYONE prefers to tell ME what I feel, and how it's not what I THINK I feel, as if they know better than me. Perfect. Just what I fucking need. To hear everything I already know, repeated to me over and over again, like I'm not getting it.

So I've decided, I'm going to give it a week or two. Then, I'm going to start telling everyone that “I'm fine"; that I realise now that it was “just another" infatuation. Nothing more. They were right. And I'm over it now. If I wasn't so averse to collateral damage, I'd have thrown in a “relationship" for better measure. But knowing my luck, I'd surely end up with someone who refuses to leave, when that's all I want: for them to leave.

So thus ends (or will end, soon enough) what I will refer to henceforth as the “Two months of madness". It will/has been, in a way, but not in the way that people will be made to understand it. And now, back to my never ending job; that of being forever the spoon.

Things I'll never get to say to you

I think this is the only place where I can actually say this, where it's least likely to be seen by anybody but you... And, if I decide not to tell you, I hope you see this someday...

I'd resigned myself to unhappiness, and loneliness... I'd given up on my fickle dream of finding that one person for me.. Because, I'm pretty sure only that person will ever stay. Only that person will understand. Only that person, would want to make me live again. And then you came along. You walked effortlessly through all the barriers I'd built to keep everyone at a distance. It was as if they didn't exist, for you. And suddenly, I couldn't shake the dream again... I found myself completely carried away. I found you...

I don't know how to explain it, but NEVER have I been so hopelessly unable to let go. Never have I felt so irreversibly attached to someone before. It doesn't sound real, even to me, as I say it. And logically I keep questioning what I feel. But, the feeling won't change. However hard I try. And just to try itself is next to impossible. I've never been afraid of losing someone. I accept these things, as part and parcel of this existence. But this time, I'm absolutely terrified... Sigh.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I love you..to the point that the words aren't enough. To the point that...I can't even bare to think of how and what I'm going to do when I have to let you go, far too soon. This is why I say "Hell" is existence. Because it can get to this.

I was waiting for the day this would end, but now I'm really tired of even waiting. I just wish I was weaker, so that I couldn't cope and would just end it myself. But sadly, I'm not. Clearly, I have bad karma to pay. In this silent Hell. Where no one will really ever understand.

I miss you.

Hiding in plain sight...

Once upon a time,  there was a boy who existed on an almost insignificantly small dot of land in the middle of the exotic region of the ocean.. From the moment the medical practitioners made the mistake of realizing that he was more than just a cyst in the womb, it should have been evident that there was something amiss. This became more and more evident as this boy grew up. He developed too fast, knew too much. Didn't react like he should, even though he was also unrealistically sensitive. He started out with hope, that he wasn't a mistake- that he was only as different as someone else who existed. The innocence of childhood made the illusion easier to accept, for with it came the illusion that people were in the habit of being as good as they had the potential to be. However, as time wore on, he started to realise that this may not be the case. The nagging feeling of never fitting in wherever he was, eventually became painfully obvious...to him. He started to realise that, in a world which had started to accept deviance, he had transcended the limits of even this new found social culture of acceptance.

The problem with this story, is not that he was different. Or at least, that wasn't the main problem. The biggest problem perhaps, was the fact that for all his abnormality, he was able to pass off as no more different than anyone else. Sure, people might realise he was perhaps above-average intelligent. Maybe he seemed more kind and obliging that most. Perhaps there was something about his appearance that people would find appealing. But no one really *knew* how different he was. There were the occasional entrances into his life who made him believe that, perhaps, there were others like him. Be it because these people WERE actually more different than most, or due to the simple reason that he wished to believe so badly, he DID believe...for a while. However, it soon became obvious that for all their deviance, no one really came close to being as different as him. And unfortunately, part of his "uniqueness" was his natural ability to blend in, wherever he went. It was not so much conscious as instinctive, this chameleon-esque nature of his. So, he spent his time..a mistake, forced  to live a life he did not want, yet unable to break free because the only freedom to be found was that which was at the end.

Thus continues the story of the boy...if boy indeed he be. "Blessed" with the ability to understand all, but cursed to a life of never being truly understood. So there he was- a seemingly normal, well adjusted man-hiding in plain sight....