I woke up super depressed this morning, struggling to drag myself out of bed for the gym. I made it though, mostly because I thought it would be good for my mental health. I’m not sure if it was good for my mental health. The gym feels like a sexually complicated place. I’ve shown up enough times, made enough eye contact, to realize it’s not just, ya know, a morning work out. It’s also where people go to hunt.
Williamsburg is loaded with emotional avoidance. Or maybe I only see just that. As I’m getting older my trauma, the original psychological software I was imprinted with, seems to be acquiring more weight. I’m not sure if it is me overemphasizing it, or if it is constantly being triggered and requiring work to be put to rest. I would like to think it is the latter, mostly because it was so extensive.
Working out, YouTube psychology videos, supplements, 100 ounces of water a day. I feel like I’m constantly trying to move the needle past who I was raised to be, and into who I am trying to be. Romantic situations are a massive emotional crater in my life, and I am constantly circling the periphery of them, trying not to fall in.
Circling the periphery is to watch yourself, as though you are a character in a movie. I watch romantic situations arise, my emotional responses play out, and then I shift away from them and try to understand what they are showing me. Lately I’ve been bearing witness to my astonishingly low self esteem. I think all life experiences are neutral, it’s how our brain encodes them that determines the way they shape us. In my case, my software keeps reinforcing a perspective that limits my self worth.
I’m trying to break out of it, but it’s a war, not a battle. It takes days, months, years, to shape and reshape my mind. Some days are better than others, but lately they’ve been dragging harder than usual. I’m drinking my water though, and writing through it. I want to break the surface.
a soft death 