I have this terrible habit of being incredibly down on myself for reasons that are valid, but not very good. If I can’t achieve something I want quickly, I’ll get demotivated and wonder what the point of even doing it is.
I know this is a ridiculous way to go about things. Good things take time, things I want take time, I just need to be patient and wait for it to happen. But I have such a lack of faith in myself that I just assume I’m doing something wrong, or incorrectly, or just not hard enough, so I’ll never achieve X. And this pretty much outlines everything I do in life and it sucks because no amount of tricking myself into believing otherwise ever works.
So then I get depressed because why should I care about something that won’t happen anyway? If it doesn’t matter, why should I ever look forward to it? And why should I ever look forward to anything?
I am a person of limited skills. I have a degree. Sure. I was good at writing papers and analyzing novels, I guess. But none of that applies to the real world. I am a blob of flesh with no employable skills except a self-defeating patience that I can maintain indefinitely at the cost of my mental health. And I guess I’m just stuck at a point where I can’t decide if I’m a boon or a burden to anyone.
Your friends will always tell you that you’re not and how lovely you are and how much you mean to them and they will, undoubtedly, be telling the truth. But when you are your worst enemy, everything goes through a different filter before it reaches your brain and the world becomes a giant lie and you’re spiraling down a pit of suck.
I battle myself every day and lock up self-deprecating me in a cage and most days I’m pretty alright. Sometimes I’m not and then I get tired or sad or grumpy.
So cheers to good times and hangouts that let you forget you’re actually a sack of shit and cheers to passive aggressive emotional diarrhea and cheers to hot chocolate.