4/05/2013

Allusions, Metaphors and Similies


“But in the end one needs more courage to live than to kill himself.” 
― Albert Camus

“Actually, it was only part of myself I wanted to kill: the part that wanted to kill herself...” 
― Susanna KaysenGirl, Interrupted

     Facing my depression is very real and always has been. It has been with me throughout my life pretty much, but I realize that now in retrospect. I tried my best to hide it, and still do because of the vulnerability it reveals.
     My depression seems subjective to me, but I know that it mostly revolves around an inferiority complex that deteriorates my trust in myself and others. This almost always becomes a problem for my work and personal life. In a strictly imagined and poetic sense, it's like a darker-half, an ashen eight-year old child with shark's teeth who wraps himself in the skin of familiars to basically wear away at every ounce of inspiration, trust, or love of life I ever had, have or will have in a nihilistic and predetermined fashion. To sum things up, I'm my own worst enemy. I shouldn't let things get to me, but I do. I allow them to.
     I've been putting up walls to protect myself from others since I was young, expecting the worst from those around me... because I feel robbed by so many since, even though I may not have been "robbed" in a sense. There's a number of different analogies to choose from. When I trust someone, something or even myself, it's like putting stock in a company, only it's not financial stock, it's a bit of one's self, time, effort: a personality sacrifice. Or if I think of my mind as a hard-drive with a limited capacity, I'm reserving a chunk of data for the trust therein. There's a risk factor, giving a part of myself over to another, and my stakes and expectations have often been too high. It's a paint-yourself-into-a-corner trap, and when doubt enters the framework (even in the slightest for me), everything begins to crumble. And it doesn't just crumble for me; it often detonates and scatters radioactive particles everywhere, ensuring a dangerous fallout! (Bad-blood, burned-bridges, bad-blood, burned bridges and not a drop to drink). Or another way to put it is from a favorite by Jennifer Egan:

     "Fear was dangerous. It let in the worm: another word Danny and his friends had invented all those years ago, smoking pot or doing lines of coke and wondering what to call that thing that happened to people when they lost confidence and got phony, anxious, weird. Was it paranoia? Low self-esteem? Insecurity? Panic? Those words were all too flat. But the worm, which is the word they finally picked. the worm was three-dimensional: it crawled inside a person and started to eat until everything collapsed, their whole lives, and they ended up getting strung out or going back home to their folks or being admitted to Bellevue or, in the case of one girl they all knew, jumping off the Manhattan Bridge."
― Jennifer Egan, The Keep

     The "darker-half" taunts my sexuality, levels my intelligence, and destroys my confidence in my mind and body with both relish and disgust while wrapped in various disguises, even corrupting that which I found genuine. (A "disguise" here is a projection). It throws me into a pit with no ladder and laughs from above. Then, like the cycle of weather, the storm is lifted, but the fear is still there. I fear these people now, these places, these memories. They are demonized by my own overbearing ego and I fear them with tears in my eyes because I am scared of what they will do if I ever approach them again. Will they hurt me? Will others hurt me? What will I do? I've had nightmares of panic attacks and scenarios where I run out into the street to escape the site or remembrance. I've broken down in the subway simply because memories brought on a tidal wave from my darker-half. Medication helps, and so does an understanding of gesalt theory. I have to calmly assess the situation from the trunk, in the present, and not from it's branches and roots.

     I still shut myself in and put up the walls. The defense. I know I shouldn't project and mirror but it's hard not to when you have few examples to go by besides skill... which is very virtual. I patch shredded pieces together with glue, sewn yarn, tape and clips. All of what was torn and broken is still there and I still own it. I learn.