One of those days

Where I wonder when will my savior arrive, tell me who I am and what to do and when I do those things I find satisfaction and contentment in my efforts in my place in this world.

*sighs*

I'm an odd duck raised by other odd ducks who told me to conform. Why do I have to be different? Why was I punished for trying to obsess on things?

How do I find my place? Choose my place? Find things I enjoy? Know my effort to enjoy things is correct...

All of this is me screaming at the void that if I pick anything then it must be wrong. The only way to make what I pick if I am the only person in the universe. So far therapy has taught me to keep being emotional and to honor my emotions to deal with this.

Fuck this is my Monday emotions after a chill weekend.

Bonus - at least this isn't being put on FaceBook. No one fucking understands how to choose what one likes when one was abused for their choices growing up.

Purging...

I have never been out star gazing with a telescope and seen anything thing space related. This is in spite of time spent learning about these things.

My carrier with computers covers most of my life. I've never written a program and do not know what to do with a computer. If my job didn't tell me what they needed done I would never do anything.

I studied math in college for years. I do not know what to do with it. I've read hundreds of popular science books about physics and do not know how to use the math for physics.

Pride is a lie for others so they will leave me alone.

Learning is to not be ignorant for others.

I should be putting this all in a paper journal. It's cool. I think I've scared off the well meaning people who want to aid me. I have a fearful-avoidant attachment style.

Now that I know I have emotional dysegulation.

Why do I get to define myself? It's too self-referential. Doesn't matter what I feel or think, it's wrong and I am not an expert on myself.

I need attention. I need a hobby. I need so much, and I got to be the one to pick it.

Fuck it all.

Back to doing shit for work so that I am paid an excessive wage that makes me feel guilty. It is not like I get any praise or thanks for what I do. I'm the fucktard who makes everyone's life more shitty because my boss wants me to follow policy.

I don't know. If I could be happy then I would know what to do to make my life better.

Melt down in real time

I'm working. I look fine.

My emotional state is failing. I need to cling on to those things of safety and self to help shore myself up to keep going.

Ha ha! Sure was clothed, fed, and sheltered growing up. None of the other things I just listed.

Sure I can repeat "I am enough" until the cows come home.... because we all relate to milk cow production and cows coming home to have there full teats drained.

Fuck this. Again I am left all on my own to make a guess about myself. Even if someone was willing to listen to me, how long until my normal way of thinking and talking becomes too much for them to understand? I'm also 47, white, and a big beard - no one tells me when I'm speaking gibberish. They nod and move on.

I gave up enjoying anything because I want to. Where is my reward! Fuck everything. I'm just wrong about everything and my dubious grasp on reality and how it works keeps getting eroded now that I do not delude myself into thinking I do know something.

I've worked my way into a comfortable node of no escape. Talking to others about how I feel and think is met with confusion. Even my therapist, has to tell me bluntly, I'm speaking gibberish. Like now.

(no subject)

Some days it's not worth it to try and communicate to the outside world.

I'm sure I could get past this shit mood, where I know my rule set for self is messed up because the only logical conclusion is I am broken (try to not be rude to others with my jagged edges), by connecting my emotions up, letting out the pain and flustration and crying, and then be in a better mood with no options.

Until deciding what I want and sharing it with others does not seem like a dare, I need to keep trying.