"It won't give up, it wants me dead, god damn this noise inside my head"
"Guardo! Bruciava il loco di mia culla!"
Another sleepless night, despite complete physical exhaustion. Nothing new, of course; I haven't slept through the night in over ten years (with few but notable exceptions). There are, no doubt, medical reasons for this, which will hopefully be revealed in my sleep study next month. But there is no point denying that much of the problem is psychological. My noisy, noisy mind is relentless in its search for answers, and I am rarely pleased with the answers it finds. In fact, I am usually terrified to my core.
What is peace of mind, and where does it come from? I've spent a lot of time on this subject, and for many, it seems that peace of mind comes from a disciplined mental delusion of one form or another. Some have religious faith, which I long to have but cannot honestly subscribe to. Some find, or create, pretty philosophies and never question their substance. These crumble to bits after just a little prodding. Some claim to find peace by completely turning outward, but this begs the question, what on the inside do they fear to spend time with?
A few have stated, in stark contrast, that one should embrace their fears and torments, become intimate with them, and seek to fully understand them. Through this, they say, peace of mind can be attained. This makes the most sense to me so far. Trouble is, I keep coming up with the same conclusion: There is nothing I can do, other than accept and make peace with this particular pain. Give up. Resign myself to never improving or satisfying this issue. And I desperately do not want to do that.
Therapy never helped. Therapists end up telling you to either (1) distract yourself from the problem through cognitive/behavioral exercises, (2) find a new way to think about it that isn't objectively true but is subjectively appealing (this is also known as lying to oneself), (3) accept the problem and find a way to live with it, or (4) numb yourself with drugs. I've tried all of these things, and they have all been equally unpleasant. None have brought peace of mind.
The best I've managed is to forget about the torments for periods of time, only to have them come rushing back to me on the wings of sudden realizations and very vivid memories of things I hadn't even considered before.
The philosophies, notions, adages, and faith of my childhood did not stand up to examination. The hope they offered has been revealed as false. The place that cradled me is burning.
Another sleepless night, despite complete physical exhaustion. Nothing new, of course; I haven't slept through the night in over ten years (with few but notable exceptions). There are, no doubt, medical reasons for this, which will hopefully be revealed in my sleep study next month. But there is no point denying that much of the problem is psychological. My noisy, noisy mind is relentless in its search for answers, and I am rarely pleased with the answers it finds. In fact, I am usually terrified to my core.
What is peace of mind, and where does it come from? I've spent a lot of time on this subject, and for many, it seems that peace of mind comes from a disciplined mental delusion of one form or another. Some have religious faith, which I long to have but cannot honestly subscribe to. Some find, or create, pretty philosophies and never question their substance. These crumble to bits after just a little prodding. Some claim to find peace by completely turning outward, but this begs the question, what on the inside do they fear to spend time with?
A few have stated, in stark contrast, that one should embrace their fears and torments, become intimate with them, and seek to fully understand them. Through this, they say, peace of mind can be attained. This makes the most sense to me so far. Trouble is, I keep coming up with the same conclusion: There is nothing I can do, other than accept and make peace with this particular pain. Give up. Resign myself to never improving or satisfying this issue. And I desperately do not want to do that.
Therapy never helped. Therapists end up telling you to either (1) distract yourself from the problem through cognitive/behavioral exercises, (2) find a new way to think about it that isn't objectively true but is subjectively appealing (this is also known as lying to oneself), (3) accept the problem and find a way to live with it, or (4) numb yourself with drugs. I've tried all of these things, and they have all been equally unpleasant. None have brought peace of mind.
The best I've managed is to forget about the torments for periods of time, only to have them come rushing back to me on the wings of sudden realizations and very vivid memories of things I hadn't even considered before.
The philosophies, notions, adages, and faith of my childhood did not stand up to examination. The hope they offered has been revealed as false. The place that cradled me is burning.