I imagine people asking me "But Xonok, why are you so cold if you want people to understand you?"
Well, that's just how I am. As strange as it may be, I don't want the kind of respect that implies me to be high and mighty, because in the end it would be all the same. I don't want people to understand me as little as I understand them and to give me such.. distance. Wherever the notion came from that emotional distance = respect, I don't agree with it. The greatest respect for me is curiosity.
So as strange as it may be, despite my coldness I am warm inside. I am cold because I'm not used to showing my emotions, or who I am. I don't think I'm even a bad person. It's just that I find it a lot of effort to let emotions get out.There was a time in my life when I was harassed for being emotional, so now I no longer know how unless I think about it.
But who knows. Maybe it's just that I'm so used to under-stimulation that I really do not feel anything. That all those things I think I feel are just minor compared to other people.
Intellectually I understand people, but emotionally I don't. Yet I deceive myself by telling that I do. When I'm especially desperate or elated I might even tell someone else so.
My greatest challenge right now is loneliness. Some people say that it's better to live without people, but those are always the people that have socialization forced onto them. I'm the other way around - unless I specifically make it happen, I don't get to see almost anyone. It's horrible what kind of damage being alone can do to a person and yet no one appears to notice. As if people who stick to themselves truly wanted to be alone. I don't know any such people. As strange as it may be. (here, did I repeat it enough? My authoritarian manner of speech deceives too many, so I must spam disclaimers)
Friday, January 27, 2017
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Conquering Depression
At times I feel helpless. It's difficult to describe how it feels to a person that has control over themselves. How can you explain it when everything is just... empty?
Logic doesn't apply when it's the emotions that are the problem. Technically false, but feels so true.
The problem with what I feel is that it takes away all motivation to fix it. Technically there are numerous ways, but depression is unique in the way that it's the only disease to cripple your willpower.
What happens if you get a physical trauma? You can use sheer willpower to eventually come back to your normal life. This applies to almost any kind of physical trauma because even if you can't be exactly as you were before, you can still improve greatly.
Mental diseases? If you have Alzheimer's there are ways to refresh your memory. Put stickers on things if you forget their names. Take notes of things that happen so you can remember them later.
For most diseases there is always something that you can do. For depression this applies too. But the problem with depression is how it convinces you there is no hope. A lack of hope is the most crippling disability there is.
But in the end what matters is not how you feel, but how you channel your feelings. If you can just get your feelings out, your life will get better. With depression the way to get back to life is to prove to yourself how you can do something. Channeling your feelings to something, anything, can get you moving. As long as you do anything it doesn't get nearly as bad and so by channeling your feelings you can break out.
Hence, I wrote a poem. Creative writing is one of the most fulfilling things I have ever done and my best writings were always from times when it was truly hard to keep going.
∞
Oh dear, we have potential
Us, humans, but so broken.
What a fine world,
to not conquer.
It always swirls,
yet remains unspoken.
Granted us by gods,
but now just taken.
From our ceasing words,
no longer feel the warmth.
The passion burns,
but only as temper.
I wish we'd heed the call of this melody,
Grasp the straws and be gratified.
Like a fool, but uplifted.
In times we feel well,
but usually live in cells,
of our existence so frail,
from these bars can't bail.
Yet at times can fly,
view the world from up high,
Realistically - before we die.
We are forsaken,
or so believe,
but are mistaken,
hopefully.
Why are we confined to chains of emptiness?
Who gets the gains from our sadness?
From our hollow hearts empty of happiness?
From the nights lost to sleeplessness?
It feels all in vain,
but to this sadness,
we give our tribute,
in sheer madness.
Logic doesn't apply when it's the emotions that are the problem. Technically false, but feels so true.
The problem with what I feel is that it takes away all motivation to fix it. Technically there are numerous ways, but depression is unique in the way that it's the only disease to cripple your willpower.
What happens if you get a physical trauma? You can use sheer willpower to eventually come back to your normal life. This applies to almost any kind of physical trauma because even if you can't be exactly as you were before, you can still improve greatly.
Mental diseases? If you have Alzheimer's there are ways to refresh your memory. Put stickers on things if you forget their names. Take notes of things that happen so you can remember them later.
For most diseases there is always something that you can do. For depression this applies too. But the problem with depression is how it convinces you there is no hope. A lack of hope is the most crippling disability there is.
But in the end what matters is not how you feel, but how you channel your feelings. If you can just get your feelings out, your life will get better. With depression the way to get back to life is to prove to yourself how you can do something. Channeling your feelings to something, anything, can get you moving. As long as you do anything it doesn't get nearly as bad and so by channeling your feelings you can break out.
Hence, I wrote a poem. Creative writing is one of the most fulfilling things I have ever done and my best writings were always from times when it was truly hard to keep going.
∞
Oh dear, we have potential
Us, humans, but so broken.
What a fine world,
to not conquer.
It always swirls,
yet remains unspoken.
Granted us by gods,
but now just taken.
From our ceasing words,
no longer feel the warmth.
The passion burns,
but only as temper.
I wish we'd heed the call of this melody,
Grasp the straws and be gratified.
Like a fool, but uplifted.
In times we feel well,
but usually live in cells,
of our existence so frail,
from these bars can't bail.
Yet at times can fly,
view the world from up high,
Realistically - before we die.
We are forsaken,
or so believe,
but are mistaken,
hopefully.
Why are we confined to chains of emptiness?
Who gets the gains from our sadness?
From our hollow hearts empty of happiness?
From the nights lost to sleeplessness?
It feels all in vain,
but to this sadness,
we give our tribute,
in sheer madness.
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