Greetings. Today's random post quite literally just came to me and I decided to write about it. This may be more of the "writing is therapeutic" kind of thing than anything that will entertain or inform. I guess I just felt the need to get it off my chest.
Let me be clear. I don't dislike myself, but things about me. Like most people, I have traits and thought processes I wish I could change. I've just never been one of those people who can simply tell themselves to do something, and it gets done. I can't pep myself up. I can't belittle myself into it. I have nearly zero self-discipline and will power. I guess that's the first thing I hate about myself, so I'll start there.
1) I have almost no will power or self-discipline. I know full well so many things would change if I would just buck up and change some shit. If I tried harder and put myself out there more, I may well be able to do my dream; writing for a highly-trafficked web site that uses humor and very little censorship. I've also started writing two books -- well, "pieces." They aren't finished for one simple reason: I stay too depressed half the time to give a swinging shit about working on them.
I'm not one of those people who can write for money and do so just for the money. I prefer to write about things I'm familiar with or passionate about. But when I'm in a funk, I have absolutely no drive to do it. If I even tried during those (these) times, it would be forced, sloppy, and worse yet, show as much.
Writing them could very well make me money and partially bring me out of this depression, so it's a double-edged sword. But can I "just suck it up and go for it"? No. Therein lies the problem.
2) I yearn to be the me in everyday life that I am in writing. Let me explain. In writing, I'm far more articulate, well-spoken and confident. I'm closer to the man I wanna be when I'm writing what it is I'm conveying. Offline, however, is a whole 'nother story.
Offline, I'm awkwardly, awkwardly shy. I'm constantly over-analyzing every move I make, every thought I think, and every word out of my mouth. Because of this, I either babble or have no clue what to say at all. This is primarily when it comes to women.
With women, I know full well what I'm saying and doing in writing. Hell, even offline, I'm a very attentive, very passionate, and very knowledgeable lover. What I lack is the outward confidence that so many prefer in a guy. I'm confident in who I am and how I think, but I royally suck with being confident in what I say and do out loud.
As an example: In the bedroom, I simply adore role-playing. I could rival some of the greatest therapists on sex advice and intimacy issues. I prefer being the dominant one if said role-playing comes into play. The problem comes in that part coming out. Yes, I can whisper things I wouldn't be caught dead saying around my mother, but I can't (as of yet) be the even more domineering and commanding "Master" type; giving outright orders and "punishing" sternly.
Admit it or not, there are oodles and oodles of women and girls in every possible social status that wanna be called a naughty little slut and Daddy's little whore under the right circumstances. But I always have to work up that courage, and most of the time, I never get that chance.
In writing though? Shiiiiiiiiiiiit. I can make 'em wetter than North Vietnam in May.
3) I care too much what other people think. This is primarily offline, obviously, or my blog here wouldn't contain most of what it does. I've never had that "fuck what the world thinks" attitude successful and confident people have. I want it. I just care too damn much what others think. I do have passionate opinions and positions, but I've been a damn door mat all my life. Out of fear of rejection (I assume), I try not to rock the boat any more often than I have to. Some would argue this is a good thing. I try to see it that way too. But...well, that leads into the next thing...
4) I'm too damn much of a "yes man;" timid; a pushover -- offline. That unlikeliness to rock the boat makes me too damn agreeable.
Her: "Where do you want to go to eat, honey?"
Me: "Dairy Queen works for me."
Her: "Sonic sounds soooo much better to me."
Me: "Ight. Doesn't matter to me."
I don't fucking make decisions and own 'em. That was a lame example, but hopefully ya get the message. I don't necessarily fight for what I want very often. I'm an apologizer, a little too attentive to her needs and wants, I yearn to please her rather than make it downright obvious that I want some attention too. Ugh!
5) I have anxiety disorder and depression. Much of the time, these two come with each other. One usually leads to the other. Mine is rooted in a chemical imbalance, but also a deep-seated and long-lived dire fear of vomiting; emetophobia.
My depression came about a year or two after I finally had to bow out and swallow my pride and go on social security disability. I felt/feel utterly useless and weak. "No real man is gonna have fears and anxieties over stupid shit," I, in one way or another, constantly tell myself. This one isn't even my fault, and I still despise it about me.
Panic attacks cause nausea. Nausea causes panic attacks. So it's a vicious cycle. If you'd get "butterflies" in your stomach, I'd get hawks. Sometimes the anxiety is for no reason (hence the chemical imbalance), but 9 times outta 10, it's over-thinking nausea.
6) I'm writing in this blog, doing absolutely nothing to even promote its readership, and not writing to make some money. If I'd simply apply myself and "go for it," I'd possibly be able to do what I do and make money doing it. This blog gets shit tons of traffic, and I appreciate the ever-loving shit out of that, by the way...but few people comment anymore. Is it simply being lurkers and not attracting the passionate opinion-having souls that are good for blogs' popularity? I don't know.
Being on disability is living below the poverty level, literally. I'm somewhat proud of myself for continuing this blog despite the lack of money it brings or the comments it no longer beckons for. In earlier days, I may have just said "fuck it" and deleted the whole thing. "Why bother?!?" has been my mantra for a long time...another thing I hate. That's depression in a nutshell, though.
Anyway, that's my rant and whining for this random session. Regardless of whether or not you ever comment, I appreciate all of you and your readership. Even if ya laugh at me, rather than with me, at least you're visiting, right?
Until next time, my friends...