(no subject)
Slowly, I have been beginning to realize that more often than not, I put the well-being of others in my life ahead of my own mental health. Among the circle of people I care about, their problems in turn become MY problems, which is a multi-tiered problem in itself. One, because I am not them and therefore cannot solve their problems despite my greatest efforts. Two, I allow it to cause me undue stress that I most assuredly am not in need of now or ever. And three, it pushes my own problems deeper and forces me to not address them.
The first two problems are, for lack of a better word, moronic. I am 23 and should know better than to bog myself down with the problems of others which I am not even involved in. However, I still find ways to force myself to be involved, if not to just try and fix things a little bit, because that's my mentality. Fix things. It's a bad mentality. Don't have it.
The last part of that problem worries me the most because it magnifies one of the greater fears I have in rarely having the courage to acknowledge and assess my own troubles. Earlier today, I realized that most everything I have attempted, I've failed. My achievements are minimal, and likely to stay that way given my current outlook on life. People will tell me 'Well come on, just get some ambition! Get motivated!' but they do not seem to understand that it really just isn't that easy. Ambition and motivation aren't things you can just walk outside and pluck from your front yard. They're hard to find and even harder to keep once you manage to locate them.
It doesn't take a psychologist to figure out that a lot of ^ that stems from a lack of confidence, of which the remnants are fading quickly. Being single for five years hasn't helped. I'm not a huge fan of relationships, but I've come to find that I'm also not a huge fan of being alone. While I enjoy the freedom and not being fiscally obligated to a single person, it starts to hit home when you realize so many more people have somebody else who feels the same way about them. That last part...it's hard not having that last part sometimes. When it goes on this long and you see so much rejection and continue to get passed over for other guys, you begin to question what the point of trying for this sort of thing anymore is. I guess I may be exaggerating when I say "so much", as I've only found someone worth opening up for maybe three times, but each time it's the same result. Likely, it's more my fault than anything, but it's hard to break old habits. This is a bad kind of apathy to have.
At times, I find myself doing the unthinkable and slightly missing Ellensburg. It's a shitty little town and there isn't much to do, but at least in the days where I lived with Tal & Jorge or even back at the old house with Nick, Leo, and Ben, I felt...well...home. I had a job. I had my own place. I had things to work towards. But even then, I had a hard time appreciating it because I wanted to come home so bad, under the impression that once I came home, things would be like they were when I left, or when I visited for a weekend. I managed to blind myself of the obvious fragmenting of friendships that had been going on for half a decade. Most of the people I was close with when I left for school, I rarely see or talk to anymore. Very few of my close friends from that period have stayed close, and whenever I take a minute to think about it, it just fucking kills me. For some of these people, I put so much effort into trying to keep us close. To keep everyone close. Over the years, I've given so much and so rarely have I asked for anything back except their time or their effort, but for one reason or another, I don't often get even that. Looking back on that-all of that effort that seems so wasted now-is what really, truly hurts the most. Even this simple shit. For two years, I made it home for six or seven birthdays each year. I missed maybe one in two years. Why? Because birthdays are important to most people and I don't like letting the people closest to me down. If they want me there, I'm going to be there. But at the same time, in five years, nobody once planned to come out/came out to Ellensburg to see me for mine. That's the sort of thing I mean. Things like that add up, and they equate to a lot of what I feel now.
So, a lot of this duress is from me trying to decide what to make of all of this. One by one, I've been giving up on people and reserving my free time for people who show that they actually give a shit about seeing me. As a result, I've lost some really close friends over the past 24 months, in the sense that we can still be friendly, but I don't really know these people anymore. And I think a lot of this mental turmoil is from me realizing that I just don't care as much as I wish I did.
I've been contemplating doing what Chad did and just start applying for out of state jobs until something works out for me. It's becoming more and more evident that unless something happens very soon, nothing is going to happen here for me at all. I love Seattle and I love the friends here who I've managed to keep close (or close enough), but ever since I've moved back home, save for the occasional night or two per week where something fun enough happens that I can block out my own thoughts, all of the miserableness/depression I had in Ellensburg has carried over here twofold.
Me exposed sounds like a pussy. I should probably make this private, but that'd be catering to my fear of facing my own problems again, so. There it is.
The first two problems are, for lack of a better word, moronic. I am 23 and should know better than to bog myself down with the problems of others which I am not even involved in. However, I still find ways to force myself to be involved, if not to just try and fix things a little bit, because that's my mentality. Fix things. It's a bad mentality. Don't have it.
The last part of that problem worries me the most because it magnifies one of the greater fears I have in rarely having the courage to acknowledge and assess my own troubles. Earlier today, I realized that most everything I have attempted, I've failed. My achievements are minimal, and likely to stay that way given my current outlook on life. People will tell me 'Well come on, just get some ambition! Get motivated!' but they do not seem to understand that it really just isn't that easy. Ambition and motivation aren't things you can just walk outside and pluck from your front yard. They're hard to find and even harder to keep once you manage to locate them.
It doesn't take a psychologist to figure out that a lot of ^ that stems from a lack of confidence, of which the remnants are fading quickly. Being single for five years hasn't helped. I'm not a huge fan of relationships, but I've come to find that I'm also not a huge fan of being alone. While I enjoy the freedom and not being fiscally obligated to a single person, it starts to hit home when you realize so many more people have somebody else who feels the same way about them. That last part...it's hard not having that last part sometimes. When it goes on this long and you see so much rejection and continue to get passed over for other guys, you begin to question what the point of trying for this sort of thing anymore is. I guess I may be exaggerating when I say "so much", as I've only found someone worth opening up for maybe three times, but each time it's the same result. Likely, it's more my fault than anything, but it's hard to break old habits. This is a bad kind of apathy to have.
At times, I find myself doing the unthinkable and slightly missing Ellensburg. It's a shitty little town and there isn't much to do, but at least in the days where I lived with Tal & Jorge or even back at the old house with Nick, Leo, and Ben, I felt...well...home. I had a job. I had my own place. I had things to work towards. But even then, I had a hard time appreciating it because I wanted to come home so bad, under the impression that once I came home, things would be like they were when I left, or when I visited for a weekend. I managed to blind myself of the obvious fragmenting of friendships that had been going on for half a decade. Most of the people I was close with when I left for school, I rarely see or talk to anymore. Very few of my close friends from that period have stayed close, and whenever I take a minute to think about it, it just fucking kills me. For some of these people, I put so much effort into trying to keep us close. To keep everyone close. Over the years, I've given so much and so rarely have I asked for anything back except their time or their effort, but for one reason or another, I don't often get even that. Looking back on that-all of that effort that seems so wasted now-is what really, truly hurts the most. Even this simple shit. For two years, I made it home for six or seven birthdays each year. I missed maybe one in two years. Why? Because birthdays are important to most people and I don't like letting the people closest to me down. If they want me there, I'm going to be there. But at the same time, in five years, nobody once planned to come out/came out to Ellensburg to see me for mine. That's the sort of thing I mean. Things like that add up, and they equate to a lot of what I feel now.
So, a lot of this duress is from me trying to decide what to make of all of this. One by one, I've been giving up on people and reserving my free time for people who show that they actually give a shit about seeing me. As a result, I've lost some really close friends over the past 24 months, in the sense that we can still be friendly, but I don't really know these people anymore. And I think a lot of this mental turmoil is from me realizing that I just don't care as much as I wish I did.
I've been contemplating doing what Chad did and just start applying for out of state jobs until something works out for me. It's becoming more and more evident that unless something happens very soon, nothing is going to happen here for me at all. I love Seattle and I love the friends here who I've managed to keep close (or close enough), but ever since I've moved back home, save for the occasional night or two per week where something fun enough happens that I can block out my own thoughts, all of the miserableness/depression I had in Ellensburg has carried over here twofold.
Me exposed sounds like a pussy. I should probably make this private, but that'd be catering to my fear of facing my own problems again, so. There it is.