Chapter 14 : Push v. Pull

I’ve had a tough last 4 weeks or so, and I can’t quite pin point why. I thought I was so clever with my last post, I mean, how could I screw that up? Well in hindsight it was clear that the entire “Letters” post was simply my defense mechanisms working in overdrive. The lack of details was utterly astounding, I revealed absolutely nothing, and not once did I use someone’s name. Clearly I’m still struggling big time to share in an open and authentic manner.

One of the core themes that frequently comes up in my therapy sessions is the idea of push versus pull. I outwardly push myself to be happy, to have a fulfilling life, to seek out success but at the same time there is an inward pull to remain closed off and hidden from the world.

If you remember in one of my earliest posts I talked about how I needed to take back my identity, that depression and anxiety had formed a protective cocoon around my personality to prevent myself from unleashing my true self. Well roughly 3 months after writing that, I hate to say it out loud, but I feel like I still haven’t made much if any progress.

Every day I wake up I start the countdown clock to when I can go back to my apartment, crawl into my bed, and queue up Netflix or power up a game of Civilization 6. How am I supposed to craft an identity to share with the world if I actively look forward to shutting out the world? I’m pulled in by my depression, I’m pulled in by my exhaustion, and I’m pulled in by lack of will power.

The push comes into play because I imagine in my head myself running through central park, cooking a delicious meal, or laughing around a dinner table with friends. Because I should want these things right? I should want to be extroverted, and I should want to be surrounded by people that love me. But yet I surround myself with the one person who hates me the most : me.

I hate the fact that I’m gay. I hate the fact I didn’t try in school. I hate the fact I’m short. I hate the expectations put upon myself by virtue of where I grew up. I hate being the middle child, the 2nd boy, and the black sheep of my family. I hate being flaky and hard to get a hold of at times. I hate that I hate all these things about myself.

How is it possible to be so young and be full of so much hate?

I need to turn this around, I’m physically tired of feeling like a fraud. And I mean that sincerely. I slept 12 hours Friday night, 13 hours Saturday night, and 11 hours last night. I don’t want to be happiest when I’m asleep. But frankly thats where I’m at and I need to deal with it.

In order to end this on a positive note, I’ve decided that since tomorrow is the first day of a new month, I’m going to make myself write everyday in my journal. In order to be authentic in my writing I need to write with no audience in mind. The one person who still doesn’t believe he can get better is the person who hates me the most. I need to write to that person. I need to learn to love that person.

More to come,

Mike

No song today, sorry :(

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