|Confused yet unapologetic comeback...or something
||[Feb. 23rd, 2016|01:39 pm]
Il mio ego è forte, il problema sono le alleanze...
Let's talk about "control issues".
As Jon Mercer (www.easycalm.com) puts it, if you have panic or anxiety, you have control issues.
It means that you've been feeling out of control for too long and you have developed a low tolerance for being so out of control for so long.
Now back to me, what that means for me is that for too long I've been left alone to deal with problems in my life. It was always all on me. Of course that's my perception of it. That I was being held responsible for fixing my own problems without being given the tools to do it. If I felt bad, or had a problem, it was me. It was my fault. And what this means is that no one else took any part of responsibility for it. Now this might generally be ok, considering there are only adults in my life, myself included; if it wasn't for the fact that when those adults are you parents, things get trickier. It's even trickier because it resonates with a childhood loaded of insecurities, because my parents never seemed to be in control of anything, and I'm talking serious staff like finances and their marriage. Fundamental cores of stability that should be somewhat granted in order for a child to grow up a wholesome adult.
It left me with this sense that there is no leader. So I must either be the leader of my own self, or die. Curious enough, that's exactly how Cesar Millan talks about dogs when they don't have a strong leader. They become chronically agitated and hyper vigilant, leading to many "disordered" behaviors (in the eyes of their owners) which are merely rough attempts to try to restore a leadership -somebody has to do it! Or else, the pack won't survive.
But because the owner, much as the parent, is ultimately in control of the whole pack/family, these attempts are void and the chaotic life simply continues. Progressively getting worse, which is typical. In my case, I keep not having the tools and yet frantically try to live up to the (now unrealistic) expectations. The pressure is all from the inside. I put it there. Because I wanted those things and I thought one day I could achieve them. I thought I was going to be worth it. But reality denies most of that.
Spiral up, spiral down.
The two wolves enmeshed in a fight.
If it sounds like I'm blaming my parents for my problems, oh, it doesn't even stop here.
I still need to address the whole "shame" chapter, which I don't want to get into just now.
Let me just say that it truly isn't just my parents. It's almost (although with a few exceptions worth noting) every doctor or other kind of authority figure who was supposed to be in charge and supposed to take care of me, but instead just made me feel like a complete fool, and took my money for it.
It's just terribly depressing and frightening to stand into the eyes of the abyss and understand through intuition that the pit is filled with those gone awry. And I'm just mere inches above them. What's to stop me from falling down? Only if I can feel a pull up. I'm going to have to cling to that rope, if I want to save my life and turn it around. I'm just afraid it's too late, that I've lost that will and that there's something fundamentally un-fixable in me, so I simply deserve to be left to rot. The wounds run deep.
My ego is not broken or bruised. It's now poisoned and rotten.
The former might awaken sympathy for a tiny and delicate thing, even from myself.
The latter just fills me with the horror and disgust you reserve for a contagious disease.
It's like a
flesh-mind-eating bug. It's shame.