Things are tumultuous. My days are ranging from a physically sickening level of depression and feelings of lost helplessness, to being okay and nigh bearable. I've increased the frequency of my therapy sessions to once a week until I can get out of this fog. In addition, my acupuncture and massage therapy seems to be helping, at least on the days I have them.
I've been taking Sundays as a self care day that prohibits sitting on my computer for extended periods of the day. I believe one of the main issues is one that I've faced previously. When I first started therapy a few years ago to deal with my depression, I couldn't figure out who I was, I didn't know what I enjoyed, or liked, and nothing felt like fun. I find myself facing the same feelings.
I've begun to loath myself for my laziness, and my addiction to escapism. I refuse to play my guitar, to try to compose anything, to draw, or write, or sing, or anything because I know I won't be any good at it. I'm approaching it as a means to and end, rather than as an activity to enjoy for the sake of doing the activity. it is the same petty childish mindset that paralyzed me as a teenager. The "I can't be perfect, so I'm not going to try" sense of fatalistic self-deprecation that keeps me attuned to depressions and infatuations with all I can't do, rather than what I can. I get so wrapped up in my lack of ability to achieve my end goal/desire/validation, that I forget the reason I started doing it in the first place.
If I had spent as much time as I do playing games, doing some form of art, I'd likely be a master at it. Games have a level cap, there is an attainable end goal, which, I guess is one reason they appeal to me. Life, itself has an end goal. The mortality aspect of life means at some point we all finish. My obsession with this seems to be a similar motif. Focusing on end goals and achievements, rather than the act or journey itself for the fun of it.
The theory behind all this is fairly simple, but the applications towards my behaviors and mindsets are much more stubborn. If you were to imagine my identity as a pie chart, I'd say a good 65-70% is taken up by my identity as a trans-woman. This, is almost always a negative aspect, as being trans largely fucking sucks 98% of the time. The rest, that 30%, is at any time taken up by various other identities, hobbies, relationships, and anything else you might attribute to intrapersonal or external stimuli. The two parts (internal/external identities) are largely intertwined and a depression/trauma in one can cause the other to collapse, exacerbate, or respond in a similar way.
You can see this in my lack of satisfaction in my personal life, which largely leads to my focusing on my lack of satisfaction in who I am as a person. It comes down to how I look at things, I see negatives easier than I see positives. Chalk that up to whatever you will, but I have situated myself on a precarious mountainside slope. It is vastly easier for momentum and gravity to carry me downward in a snowballing effect of depression and negative emotions. Likewise, pulling myself up, in a positive way feels unnatural for me, it is a struggle and requires far greater amounts of work the more alone I feel.
It is, however, definitely easier to climb the mountain with people helping me. I know, this is an unpopular statement, and considered a red flag for some. People say "you should be content to be alone, before you try being in a relationship". That is fine and dandy if you're perfect. If you've no emotional problems or mental illness (which depression most certainly is). Personally, I find it bullshit. Humans are social creatures, we die if we are isolated long enough. We all want and desire to have friends, partners, relationships, and families. I do NOT think the desire for that, or the need for that, is a bad thing. Nor do I find that inherently abusive, addictive, or problematic. I consider myself a broken clock. I require a little elbow grease and work, but can be polished nicely, and end up being a rewarding, lovely, and entirely fantastic experience.
The ability to be content by one's self, to me, definitely feels like a privilege of the healthy, wealthy, cisgender, and untroubled. It is easy to be content with yourself, when you aren't constantly at war with yourself over things you have no ability to change, but the utmost paramount and salient desire to do so.
SO, that rant aside, the schematics of my emotional framework on display. Where, do I go from here?
I've been taking Sundays as a self care day that prohibits sitting on my computer for extended periods of the day. I believe one of the main issues is one that I've faced previously. When I first started therapy a few years ago to deal with my depression, I couldn't figure out who I was, I didn't know what I enjoyed, or liked, and nothing felt like fun. I find myself facing the same feelings.
I've begun to loath myself for my laziness, and my addiction to escapism. I refuse to play my guitar, to try to compose anything, to draw, or write, or sing, or anything because I know I won't be any good at it. I'm approaching it as a means to and end, rather than as an activity to enjoy for the sake of doing the activity. it is the same petty childish mindset that paralyzed me as a teenager. The "I can't be perfect, so I'm not going to try" sense of fatalistic self-deprecation that keeps me attuned to depressions and infatuations with all I can't do, rather than what I can. I get so wrapped up in my lack of ability to achieve my end goal/desire/validation, that I forget the reason I started doing it in the first place.
If I had spent as much time as I do playing games, doing some form of art, I'd likely be a master at it. Games have a level cap, there is an attainable end goal, which, I guess is one reason they appeal to me. Life, itself has an end goal. The mortality aspect of life means at some point we all finish. My obsession with this seems to be a similar motif. Focusing on end goals and achievements, rather than the act or journey itself for the fun of it.
The theory behind all this is fairly simple, but the applications towards my behaviors and mindsets are much more stubborn. If you were to imagine my identity as a pie chart, I'd say a good 65-70% is taken up by my identity as a trans-woman. This, is almost always a negative aspect, as being trans largely fucking sucks 98% of the time. The rest, that 30%, is at any time taken up by various other identities, hobbies, relationships, and anything else you might attribute to intrapersonal or external stimuli. The two parts (internal/external identities) are largely intertwined and a depression/trauma in one can cause the other to collapse, exacerbate, or respond in a similar way.
You can see this in my lack of satisfaction in my personal life, which largely leads to my focusing on my lack of satisfaction in who I am as a person. It comes down to how I look at things, I see negatives easier than I see positives. Chalk that up to whatever you will, but I have situated myself on a precarious mountainside slope. It is vastly easier for momentum and gravity to carry me downward in a snowballing effect of depression and negative emotions. Likewise, pulling myself up, in a positive way feels unnatural for me, it is a struggle and requires far greater amounts of work the more alone I feel.
It is, however, definitely easier to climb the mountain with people helping me. I know, this is an unpopular statement, and considered a red flag for some. People say "you should be content to be alone, before you try being in a relationship". That is fine and dandy if you're perfect. If you've no emotional problems or mental illness (which depression most certainly is). Personally, I find it bullshit. Humans are social creatures, we die if we are isolated long enough. We all want and desire to have friends, partners, relationships, and families. I do NOT think the desire for that, or the need for that, is a bad thing. Nor do I find that inherently abusive, addictive, or problematic. I consider myself a broken clock. I require a little elbow grease and work, but can be polished nicely, and end up being a rewarding, lovely, and entirely fantastic experience.
The ability to be content by one's self, to me, definitely feels like a privilege of the healthy, wealthy, cisgender, and untroubled. It is easy to be content with yourself, when you aren't constantly at war with yourself over things you have no ability to change, but the utmost paramount and salient desire to do so.
SO, that rant aside, the schematics of my emotional framework on display. Where, do I go from here?
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