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Life...don't talk to me about life.
It occurs to me, today, that I have spent far too little of my lifetime living, and far too much of it thinking. This occurs to me so suddenly, because last night I had a very clear example of what life is like without the brain getting in the way.
A possible relationship with a friend did not move to a more intimate level (for reasons which may or may not be discussed at a later date). But my experience was very unusual in that I didn't feel the same acute anxiety over the occurrence as I have had in other relationship beginnings and non-beginnings. I attribute this to the fact that I was, for the first time, actually aware of what was happening, instead of worried about what might happen.
I've had a phrase used to describe Hamlet echoing in my mind for quite a bit: "to be, as it were, the raconteur of one's own suffering." I spent quite a lot of my adolescent period (read here as high school through college) being the self-raconteur. I spent so much time thinking, projecting, revising, selectively postulating and otherwise mentally manipulating reality that most of those eight or nine years exist mostly as a mental web, and very little of it was real reality. I think this is also heightened by the school setting. When so much of life revolves around ideas and knowledge, it's easier to retreat into a world of ideas and knowledge.
I won't speak to whether or not this is a healthy or valid way to live in general, but it certainly wasn't for me and my chronic depression. Although I could usual keep a distinction between the constructed and actual world, when things got bad, things went crazy in my head, and my perceptions started to work overtime, often going through strange gymnastics of sketchy logic to keep a vision of the world whole. Until of course, the delicate balance was upset, and I was faced with my entire perception of reality quickly shattered. This happened a few times, for various reasons, and with various degrees of severity.
And this same pattern of thinking applied to my relationships, too, leading to some wildly emotional times, sometimes even if the relationship didn't happen at all.
But the past year and a half, working a steady job, even with the odd hours, has provided a previously unknown sense of stability. And antidepressants have helped as well, an influence which I believe is subtle, but important. And I've felt like I'm just, well, living. And I really like it. Simple pleasures.
All of this leads up to this almost beginning of a non-relationship because after leaving the frame of mind where I'm always recounting my own suffering as they happen, I was just there, enjoying a kiss, enjoying her closeness, enjoying her company. And when I left, although I hoped at the time that something more would come out of it, I was content just to enjoy for a while.
So I'm disappointed that this didn't work out, partly because I would really would like to become more intimate with this girl, and partly because the calm beginning of the relationship seemed to be the beginning of something fascinating that I really wanted to live through. But I don't feel rejected, because I know that she wasn't rejecting me, because I was listening to her, to her words and her whole body which bespoke attraction, but a deep sadness unrelated to me. In the circular talk that always accompanies this kind of conversation, I heard a clear, simple, and honest message that she felt that a relationship started now would not be the best that we could do, and that she believed that our current friendship demanded nothing less than the best.
And frankly, if she (or, for the sake of probability, someone else) had out-and-out rejected me, I don't think I would have been as hurt either. I think that, deep down, a person who mentally reconstructs his own life knows that any rejection is perceived by himself, and ultimately a rejection from himself. And if a woman told me she thought I was completely unattractive, then I'd be lucid enough to know that it's her opinion and there's nothing more to be done about it.
I have no conclusion, but I think this is a change for the better, and I want to continue living like this for a while.
A possible relationship with a friend did not move to a more intimate level (for reasons which may or may not be discussed at a later date). But my experience was very unusual in that I didn't feel the same acute anxiety over the occurrence as I have had in other relationship beginnings and non-beginnings. I attribute this to the fact that I was, for the first time, actually aware of what was happening, instead of worried about what might happen.
I've had a phrase used to describe Hamlet echoing in my mind for quite a bit: "to be, as it were, the raconteur of one's own suffering." I spent quite a lot of my adolescent period (read here as high school through college) being the self-raconteur. I spent so much time thinking, projecting, revising, selectively postulating and otherwise mentally manipulating reality that most of those eight or nine years exist mostly as a mental web, and very little of it was real reality. I think this is also heightened by the school setting. When so much of life revolves around ideas and knowledge, it's easier to retreat into a world of ideas and knowledge.
I won't speak to whether or not this is a healthy or valid way to live in general, but it certainly wasn't for me and my chronic depression. Although I could usual keep a distinction between the constructed and actual world, when things got bad, things went crazy in my head, and my perceptions started to work overtime, often going through strange gymnastics of sketchy logic to keep a vision of the world whole. Until of course, the delicate balance was upset, and I was faced with my entire perception of reality quickly shattered. This happened a few times, for various reasons, and with various degrees of severity.
And this same pattern of thinking applied to my relationships, too, leading to some wildly emotional times, sometimes even if the relationship didn't happen at all.
But the past year and a half, working a steady job, even with the odd hours, has provided a previously unknown sense of stability. And antidepressants have helped as well, an influence which I believe is subtle, but important. And I've felt like I'm just, well, living. And I really like it. Simple pleasures.
All of this leads up to this almost beginning of a non-relationship because after leaving the frame of mind where I'm always recounting my own suffering as they happen, I was just there, enjoying a kiss, enjoying her closeness, enjoying her company. And when I left, although I hoped at the time that something more would come out of it, I was content just to enjoy for a while.
So I'm disappointed that this didn't work out, partly because I would really would like to become more intimate with this girl, and partly because the calm beginning of the relationship seemed to be the beginning of something fascinating that I really wanted to live through. But I don't feel rejected, because I know that she wasn't rejecting me, because I was listening to her, to her words and her whole body which bespoke attraction, but a deep sadness unrelated to me. In the circular talk that always accompanies this kind of conversation, I heard a clear, simple, and honest message that she felt that a relationship started now would not be the best that we could do, and that she believed that our current friendship demanded nothing less than the best.
And frankly, if she (or, for the sake of probability, someone else) had out-and-out rejected me, I don't think I would have been as hurt either. I think that, deep down, a person who mentally reconstructs his own life knows that any rejection is perceived by himself, and ultimately a rejection from himself. And if a woman told me she thought I was completely unattractive, then I'd be lucid enough to know that it's her opinion and there's nothing more to be done about it.
I have no conclusion, but I think this is a change for the better, and I want to continue living like this for a while.
!!
no subject
well, i guess what i'm ultimately saying is that if more guys could take your attitude on the subject, there'd be a lot less women moping around because they blew their one and only chance with someone they were very attracted to!
i'm sure yours will appreciate that you feel she's worth giving a second chance. insightful entry as always, Mister Saw. peace out.
-highersoul