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Thoughts and Action - Abadoss' Mind
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Wed, Jul. 14th, 2004 12:05 am
Thoughts and Action

Today has been somewhat of a stuck on my butt day. Thankfully, I made some productive use of it and finished a book I was reading. I rarely have the energy to read these days and it feels nice to know that I can still pick up a book or two for my own enjoyment. The book was "Myst: The Book of Atrus," which is a prequel to the age old (no pun intended) PC game. It was actually written fairly well and explained a great deal of the back-story behind the games.

Anyway, within the last hour or so, I also took the opportunity to look back on my entries concerning Hannah. Speaking of which, her birthday is coming up and I need to get her a card. Anyway, I was skimming across them and I did a little bit of thinking about how I had conducted myself and all the events that happened and surrounded that time. A lot of it is still pretty vivid in my mind, but much of it has dulled itself to not much more than a sting. It really makes me wonder about how my mind works.

As I sit here, I'm thinking about how it's far easier to think about my past with Hannah, now that we've re-established contact and had the chance to explain ourselves. I suppose it could easily be a testament to just how much I need resolution. Had she never tried to get in contact with me, I don't think I would have ever been able to look at those entries without feeling the sharp and vivid pain each memory used to evoke.

In the same sense, I don't think I would've ever gotten past what happened in Germany, had Tiffany not left a comment for me. That side of the story makes it easier to look back at the time and truly assess what happened. It's not easy and it still hurts a lot because I still haven't found a way to incorporate the changes into my behavior that would avoid such issues in the future, but at least I have a clearer vision when looking back. I would've continued to rip myself apart emotionally and mentally until there would've been nothing left but pain and depression had it not been for her intervention.

Another thing I've noticed is that in both cases, directly after the contact happened, I felt worse than ever for a few days (weeks for the latter), but in so doing, I was able to climb back out of my miserable state and work on the situation. Granted, I'm not out of the woods for the latter, but at least I'm not clouded by depression. In a sense, it's like when you have to push an arrow through to the other side to avoid more serious damage. Cupid's arrow for the first and my own for the second. It's still a wound, but at least it's treatable. If only time could cure all that it's supposed to.

Time is like a double-edged sword (I know I'm using a bunch of medieval references). On one edge, it gives one the opportunity to heal. On the other, it drives the pain deeper. I think in order for time to be an effective healer, it needs to be aided by purpose and intention for such healing. Without it, time simply makes one bury the pain, where it festers and only serves to make the wound all the more incapable of healing. Funny coming from one who's mastered the art of burying wounds.

If you have to compare me to something, then I guess it's fair to say that I'm the kind of guy who can teach, but not do, in this particular case. I know exactly what should be done and how to do it, yet I fail myself consistently. I've gotten so good at knowing what the signs are and how to interpret that and this that I've no clue how to actually do it for myself. I think I approach the subject completely in the wrong direction, but I can't afford to try a different one.

I've had so many failures in this area that any more would tear me apart. I've destroyed so much by being careless. And now that I care too much, the same thing happens, only not so often. I guess I could chalk it up to never having settled down and never having had roots anywhere, or I could say that it was because I didn't have a father figure in my life, or I could say that I was abused by my peers throughout my life, or I could say all sorts of crap, but what purpose would it serve. I know my past and I know the effect it's had on me, but how does that change what I could be doing now? Why can't I just be the kind of person I want to be and be done with it? Why can't I do things right, do them well, and be satisfied with it? Why this continuous discontent?

What is so difficult about being content? The popular ideal is that to be content, one needs fame, fortune, and love. I might be willing to accept the latter as true, but where did this view come from? Who suddenly decided that something that only about 1% of the population could ever achieve (mostly talking about the former two)? Why isn't the proverb, "Love, Faith, and Hope" like Jesus said? If those are supposed to be the only things that remain in the end, why don't we invest more in them? Sounds like a pretty good marketing plan, if you ask me. But, why sell ideals and intangible things when people will fall for stupid stuff like money or stardom?

The problem is that when they do fall for that stuff, it makes anyone who doesn't an outsider. Enter me. I can't say that I don't like the idea of money or stardom, but I'd be happier with love than the other stuff. Of course, how do I know that? I've never been in love. I've never experienced love aside from my family. The only problem is that with my family, it's not really a choice to love, it's just there because we have to in a sense. I desire the kind of love where it's a choice. I want someone to show me love because they want to, not because they have to or they feel obligated to. Maybe it's asking too much.

Maybe love is that horizon which continues to run away from me as I try to get nearer and nearer. Maybe love is like trying to count all the stars. Maybe wishing for love is futile. Maybe it doesn't exist for me. What then?

The only problem I have with that is that I know that I am not so unique that I am capable of love when no one else is. I've read and heard so many descriptions of what love ought to be and I know that I'm capable of such things. Since I'm capable, why should I be the only one who is? It would be highly naive to think that only I can love. After all, I had to get the definitions from somewhere.

Maybe I'm just not looking in the right places. Perhaps, I don't know what to look for. Or if I do, maybe I don't know how to get it. Sadly, this is probably more true than all the other "maybe"s I've mentioned. Generally speaking, it all comes back to the fact that I know so little about love, but I constantly feel the urge for it. I know that the feeling isn't there for no reason, but it seems impossible to fathom how I could ever manage to satisfy the urge.

I've lived so long without love that I don't know what it feels like. And once I finally do feel even the slightest bit, I latch on hoping not to loose it, only to find it dead. I'm like the prisoner who's been deprived of food and water and must be given water in small doses, or else face death. But, like the prisoner, I desire water and food like ambitious young corporates desire power. I devote my life to getting water and I dream of food, hoping one day to remember what it tasted like. If only to remember.

For all the memories that I retain, I retain so few good ones. Is it because I simply have none, or are they overshadowed by the horrible one? I guess I could also say that there's been a lot of trauma in my life, but, in the same breath, I can say that I caused much of my own trauma. Or is that just a coping mechanism. Can't find a target, so I blame myself? Or maybe I'm so used to being taught that I should forgive that I've compensated by being their own personal little Jesus, taking their sins upon my cross. It's an erie thought. Being a martyr for a cause that doesn't exist.

Of course, like everything in my life, it's never that easy. I know when to hold someone responsible for what they've done, but I do forgive really easily. However, when it comes to myself, I always hold myself responsible and I take forever, if ever, to forgive. But what is that saying? Am I saying that God doesn't know what He's doing by forgiving me, so I'm just going to hold it from myself? Am I playing judge for myself, when the Ultimate Judge has already decided on my fate? Who appointed me God?

Why is it so difficult to forgive myself? I suppose it comes down to believing that forgiveness will actually do something. If I don't believe that forgiving myself is going to have a positive effect, then the chances of wasting energy on it are far from likely. What exactly would forgiveness do? Why should I bother? I suppose, for one, that I'd stop holding things over my head. However, unless I worked to change the problem in the first place, I could forgive myself countless times, only to return to forgive myself for the same thing.

Though I'm settled in my ways, I really strive for improvement and change of my life. I really want to make the best of things and so I push myself hard to seek after them. I want so desperately to be the best person I possibly can be, but I often find that there's still so much that keeps me from it. In addition, it seems that whenever I try to reach these ideals, I'm left alone and without support. I have no one to share it with. As Mark Twain once said, "Happiness is best when shared (paraphrased)." Closely related is the old proverb, "Misery loves company."

I often wonder why I want people around me, especially given my introverted nature. I already know what happens when I'm alone (I've had many years to figure that out), but I don't know why it happens. Am I so unstable a creature that I must have help from others to keep it from toppling? Probably, yes.I'd say it's fair to describe the whole thing as spinning plates on sticks. If no one's spinning the plate, then the plate falls. Of course, that doesn't mean that I'm incapable of doing some spinning myself, but every once and a while, I need that extra spin.

Perhaps I've relied to heavily upon my own ability to "spin the plate", so to speak. I'm so used to getting nothing that I make up for it by learning how to be so "self-sufficient that I don't need anyone else". How foolish it would be to believe that in all these years that I would've been able to sustain myself completely on my own. No, I had help, there's no doubt about it. Only problem is that it's been so little help that it only fuels the illusion.

Maybe I don't know how to ask for it. Maybe I'm just not asking the right way. Maybe I'm not asking the right people. Maybe I'm not asking at the right times. Maybe. I have a lot of "maybe"s flying around in my head. It wouldn't be so bad if many of them didn't have merit. But some do.

I want to find a balance in my life. One that I can live with. I want to know that everything will be fine and that even big things can tip it off balance. I want to be able to take things as they come, not anticipate them years on down the road. I want to be sufficient, but not by myself. I want love that is given by choice. I want resolution. I want forgiveness. I want to know that I can forget my mistakes without worrying about making them again. I want so much. I need so much.

I need to know and feel that it'll all be okay... that I can stop wasting energy on something so many rarely need to worry about. Just to know that I'm safe. Just to know that I'm not a plague to those around me. Just to be safe...

(It's taken me nearly four hours to post this entry. The first hour was spent writing it, the next three on waiting for scheduled maintainance to be over so I could actually access what I wrote... a major pain in the ass)

Current Mood: confused confused
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