Let's start from the background story: I was about to publish this on July fourth on my blog; but then I remembered people tend to use social media to present the happiest and most successful moments of their lives, while mine is filled with posts so extremely sad, that the majority of people won't ever feel that sad in their entire life, perhaps beside one or two exceptions.
I began using a blog, in part, for the sake of building a documentary of what I've been up to, especially as people have these imaginations about how spent my time – not that I'm aimed at correcting others, but sometimes the fact that nobody sees you for who you are, makes it impossible to ever have any human connection; and regardless of whether we are created in the face of apes or the God, if one thing we for sure are that's "social animal"–; and do not wish to isolate myself more than it is, and bear the burden of hiding my social media entries from others for the rest of my life, as if it is filled with drunk photos and proofs of libertine lifestyle.
Here is what I imagined it would be better not to post, especially if I can turn around my mood in a few days:
First time I heard the argument in the book on how to write better in German, I accepted it with mild disbelief that Goethe has worked and reworked a sentence or a paragraph which had become so remarkable, but then reading his biography by Rüdiger Safranski, and more than seeing like working and reworking to produce something remarkable, he has worked and reworked on things to be able to express something he saw worth to be expressed and doing it perfectly ... Without going into detail of things, for lots of reasons, it has been so hard to not fall for false self-doubt and censor my self, and my writings, or worse, give up on writing altogether, and there have been few instances when doing so resulted in me losing the equipment and opportunities I had and I was using them for producing those works ... Yesterday, I started with the idea of writing one or two sentences slightly humorously about a new drink and partly as a way of getting a marketing contract but then when my digital pen was on the digital paper, I end up with a piece so intimate that I feared ever publishing it and decided to leave my room and eat at McDonald's to forget about the fact that such piece was written by me and it meant a world to me, and I wished so deeply that she liked/loved it too ... Not a great strategy; unlike other times, it wasn't my laptop that went broke, I went broken inside out of the blue and end up crying or being in my excessive cry mood for the following 24 hours until I end up with the decision for publishing it ... Allah, help, guide and protect me with my works ...
The excessive lack of success cuts so deep that lately, I even feel ashamed myself to suggesting to myself "let's try this instead of ..." To actualize the alternative, my latest decision on a date was actually kind of blown away cause otherwise, it was too impossible to avoid leaking it. I end up accepting to be at different places on the same date, so do not show up on something agreed upon seemed like I will be lying otherwise.
Please don't say that I don't try hard enough. Look, unfortunately, or fortunately, I am still living, and so I told myself "crying, or not crying, life has to go on. So, let's do something that can remind you about it. Something that gives you a sense of control over your life, and that you don't always fail whether you aim for ... something you can feel your social media with ..." it wasn't that hard to come up with the idea of starting to run again, this time with the goal of maximum four and half a kilometer early morning per day. But changing an hour a day in one's life, won't rescue one, at least not my life story. So, I was careless enough to avoid, and instead, I sit on my feet for a few hours, and I hurt it so much that I can't even walk properly without pain. And... and I end up forced with facing my life as it is, instead of using the progress in running as an excuse to forget my life sucks.
I'm crying every day for a few hours, and it is so irritating that I couldn't attribute my crying to any particular reason. And first I thought maybe I can ask on Facebook if someone somebody knows is important to me, has something happened to ... but starting to write such request, I remember I this last note that I didn't publish on Facebook, in the hope of being able to turn my life around sooner than, or otherwise ending it ...
Writing these sentences and thinking about the difference between other's social media feeds and mine, it is almost unbelievable that I never asked myself the plain question "what can make me happy" and do that. The immediate response of my brain to that question is something I find hard to stand up for. I really feel overpowered by the fact that someone can imagine everything about why you say such thing other than you fucking mean it word for word, that the idea of she and you being ... Another faulty legacy of my parents to me: conflict-avoidance. The more important someone is to me, I used to be more silence when being misconstrued.
And if the immediate response of my brain ain't enough: I finally put my courage together, and with a great deal of exertion managed to publish a text in part around that question but a day or two later, I took it down for revision, and it's still not available. Conflict-avoidance to such a degree that I censor myself in advance, before even receiving a comment from anyone.
When you are excessively unhappy for an extended period of time, you get used to forgetting thinking about happiness, not to mention deliberately aiming for increasing occurrences of such feelings in your life. I'm not talking about "depression" or "burnout", by "excessive unhappiness" I referring to the condition of having so much pain that immediate death seems the most cost-friendly outcome for your future – because at some point you reach a position where no amount of future happiness could be considered worth for what you have been through – and by "extended period" I'm referring two a time frame of a few years. But about a couple months back, I aimed at honoring the wish of one of the individuals I'm missing:
But so many reasons to be sad that it rendered it impossible after a few weeks, to continue trying to appear happy, not to mention actually being happy; at least, not as long as my conditions haven't improved. This wasn't the whole reason to wish to be happier, but the other reason, I rather spare you from hearing it, as I wish to spare myself experiencing that my sincere acts of self-expression are frowned upon, laughed at, or at best treated so as if they weren't expressed. Maybe one day I will say "it was because what I told you" but let it be untold till then ...
Protecting myself from the possibility of embarrassing myself by not publishing that piece seems by now, to be costing me more than I can ever bear. A grown-up man crying in public for no obvious reason is really too much embarrassment, doing it every day, makes life routines impossible. Even the most personally important tasks on my todo list are being delayed ...
Not going to detail of debunking many fucked up opinions of Jordan Peterson, there is something I owe to him: it was endlessly harsh to accept the truth that this attitude has cost my innocent in childhood. This defense mechanism of hiding my own feelings for the sake of pleasing others or providing them with the confidence that their opinion of who I am is true.
lately I stumbled upon the sentiment:
You don't need everyone to love you, just a few good people.
Not to complain, but my life story seems to be one in which the one people, whose opinion meant me the most gets persuaded by others' whispers than inquiring me myself for clarification, the result of which has been unbearable to live with; may the Lord protect me from these evil misconducts. Perhaps not saying anything at all would only provide more excuses for others' unrequested intervention in explaining me on my behalf while no permission granted from me; Better, running the risk of misunderstanding and rejection than upfront giving up the playing field to those who subscribed one's animosity as the purpose of their lives to play on one's behalf; No good result could be expected from the fucked up "kindness" of such assholes! May the Lord rescue us from these assholes; otherwise, they don't even have a grain of conscious to act so as if their selfish, harmful attempts are acts of "kindness" towards us, even vultures have enough morals to not eat the meat of a living being, they consider it "nobility".