Well Shit, Here We Go II

 I am sorry that the title of the last post was misleading. This one really is what it says it is, I'm starting again. Below is an excerpt from my first post, titled "Well Shit, Here We Go." 

Until recently, my narrative followed these tenants: 1) I do not matter, 2) my value is only equal to what I give to the world. and 3) there is no time for self reflection, or anything involving the self. 

I am affirming that these things are not true. It is actually hard to write that. I guess I do matter. Whatever. I would like to think my value is only equal to what I give to the world. It is easier to think that way. If that is what I believe, I need to derive a sense of self worth only from work, parenting, and assisting the people whom I call friends. It is clear cut, almost measurable, and does not require that I spend any time thinking about myself or acting on my own behalf. Nothing can hurt me, because I don't need anything. I can accomplish anything, but I don't need anything. That negates any time needed for self-reflection or anything involving the self. That would be a frivolous waste of time. 

One of the important things this past year has taught me is that this type of thinking is not sustainable. I will eventually want to feel, and want to be human, and want to embrace my life. That need would likely become so great that I would do some real stupid shit. For now I simply try asking myself how I feel, and I try not to become too frustrated when it takes me a while, sometimes days to answer. I try hard to express myself even though it is terrifying and leaves me horribly vulnerable. I push myself to say what is on my mind without filters, and then days later it hits me that I am horrified that I let my guard down that far. Because of course I cannot expect anything good - I don't deserve anything good. I run back into my vault and tell myself that I am utilitarian only, I am good as long as I am serving a purpose. I will make the inroads into society's problems as much as I can in my lifetime, but in an interpersonal sense people like me are entirely forgettable. People like us at first, we are easy to deal with (because we anticipate needs before they are even recognized and respond to them), we are predictable, reliable, and dependable. We work without eating or sleeping until the job is done. It's a relief, and a welcomed change. But after a while we simply become invisible, and I should not expect anything else. 

So I'm limping along in an attempt to keep doing things that are considered healthy, like writing about my (gack) feelings, even though at times I'm not even sure this is healthy, I'm not even sure of the right way to turn. Please bear with me.