11/01/03
i think i always feel the need to destroy everything i write because it is better to say nothing at all than to be the kind of person i am. the tiny parts that aren't so bad (when they occur at all) don't make up for all that is exceptionally bad. when i write, i'm aware that i can't say everything at once, and that a lot more information is relevant, and that perhaps i'm focusing on things that are less relevant and throwing things out of balance. the guilt and uneasiness i feel is overwhelming. it nags at me. i feel dissatisfaction with who i am as a person, dissatisfaction with my level of intelligence and with my ability to express myself. i don't like the 'type' of person i am. at times i can't relax until i destroy what i've written, although in the first place i've had something of a nagging need to write. i try to ignore that now, or maybe it just happens naturally a lot less now that i get the urge to write because i know from experience that writing doesn't actually make me feel better. i've lost control. i don't know if i really care any more. i am out of control. i am too exhausted to prune this down or distil it into its essential elements. i no longer really want to have contact with anyone. i don't want to try any more. i will stay wrapped up in myself, where i'm most comfortable, and just send out one-sided things, if anything at all.
i don't think it comes across when i allow myself to write 'negatively' that i don't actually believe in thinking that way.. i mean, if i find myself thinking things like i'm such an idiot or whatever, i always challenge the thoughts and then pretty much come to the conclusion that i'm just who i am, and it isn't really necessary to judge myself. i also challenge thoughts about'the way things are' when it comes to differences between men and women and whatnot, and realize that when i'm in a certain mode that i don't seem up to focusing on exceptions, which are what i find most interesting anyway. and i don't think it comes across that i see more in myself and my efforts that i manage to convey in writing.. and as well, i can't seem to pin down many of the subtleties in interaction, and the different ways of looking at things and understanding. it takes a lot of effort, and mostly i don't feel that my concentration level is up to it, and yet i feel that i do understand so much more than i am able to put into words, or that i see more sides than is immediately apparent.
all i've written recently is a good example of the kind of thing that makes me feel it is better to die than to be the kind of person i am. the kind of thing that leaves me feeling constantly uneasy. sometimes, in the past, i've been able to keep things for a few years, thinking that eventually i'll go back to the thousands of pages and edit things and pick out all the little interesting things. but the anxiety is too high, and it never seems worth the effort. maybe it's partly about perfectionism or ambition, and i just want to be a smarter and better person, one whose brain just naturally focuses on less ugly things. here i am, writing all of this crap, feeling more wants to push itself out. where has it got me in the past? it's had me writing for months at a time, all day long. and maybe i pin down more of the overall story, and get new insights, and maybe this has something to do with my creative process and eventually i try new things and whatnot. but i shouldn't kid myself that it will ever change my behaviour, stop the bulimia, like i have somehow been hinting that i want to happen.. it doesn't stop the bulimia.. i think it might actually intensify it because as i write, i dredge up all kinds of uncomfortable feelings and thoughts and memories, and it's like i have to deal with them all over again, as well as my dissatisfaction with my brain and ability to express myself, and i've already dealt with those feelings, thoughts and memories as well as i can, and i can't write about them in a way that makes me feel i'm not stupid, mean and a waste of space. things are so complicated. you can absolutely know that people did the best they could in situations, and that you yourself did the best you could, and still the memories can be painful when they resurface. and so you go through it all again, and i think part of why i go through it all again and again is that who i can't accept is myself. myself and my reactions to everything. i don't want to accept that this person is who i am. i thought i was stronger, smarter.
and it's even like giving my eating patterns a name, bulimia, and focusing on that is one example of what i don't like about myself. i feel like i'm copping out, because the label doesn't express how i really see the behaviour. i should be trying harder to express how i see it, but there's just so much else to deal with and it seems easier to take a kind of shortcut, while giving a bit of a misleading impression.
i don't want to keep writing. i want to withdraw from everything, and try to do what i think will make me feel best: concentrate on a way of expressing myself that does not leave me feeling so bad. it's going to take time and effort. so i go back to thinking i will try to express myself in different ways, not in words. maybe in images. maybe in dance. a few months ago, i had this feeling of peace, and then i had a few months of working towards another way of expressing myself, and now i see that i haven't changed at all, that i can lose everything so easily and become aware that i just don't want to be who i am. but i can't seem to stop trying to find ways of looking at myself that i can accept. even in my exhausted, depleted state, i can't seem to stop *trying*, in my own way.