This is going to be disorganized and not very well written.
I hate it when I use this place as my personal therapy session. I’ve already got a therapist. And this place isn’t private. This is a place where I put myself forward to the public.
(Shades of Josh Lyman. “This is a place where solemn work is done. This is a place… this is a place… let me say this… this is not a place where one’s personal things… where things among people… this is not a place… let’s… This is a place where work is done and nothing else.”)
I remember something Mike wrote when I first quit blogging a few years ago. “I’m sad that you never really considered devoting most of your blogging energy to the less emotional aspects of your life, choosing instead to live a very big chunk of your life out in the open. It made for some very compelling reading… and it wore you down in little more than a year.”
I’ve tried hard to avoid doing that since I resumed blogging. But sometimes it slips through. Sometimes I tend to feel things… intensely. I can be oversensitive. Not all the time, but it still happens.
I realized something about myself a while back. I used to think I hated competition. I told myself I wasn’t competitive. But what I realized is, I am competitive. I’m very competitive. I just don’t like having to compete. It’s much easier to feel jealousy or envy instead of actually doing what it takes to compete. In theory I’m against competition, because I think you should focus on yourself instead of on other people, and competition brings up conflict, and I hate conflict. And yet, I focus a lot on other people’s accomplishments in comparison to my own and wind up seething with resentment inside – sometimes subconsciously, so I don’t even realize I’m doing it. So basically, I hate being competitive, yet I can’t help but be competitive.
There are certain blogs I don’t read anymore because they stir up lots of negative feelings in me when I read them, mostly envy. Part of this comes from the fact that I’ve been blogging for such a long time that I resent people who’ve been blogging for much shorter periods of time and are much more popular. Which I know is totally stupid. But they don’t have to be newish upstarts – they can be older bloggers, too. Regardless — I think to myself, what have they got that I haven’t got? And the answer is, drive, or more writing talent, or more focus, or something inherently appealing or attractive about their personality.
I am such a competitive person. I get envious *so* easily.
Sometimes I wish I could get back to that place where I wrote about things in a compelling manner. But too many people know about this site now, which inhibits me.
I’ve been bummed lately in general. Part of it is this dark and gloomy weather that’s hung over New York City and Newark the last few days. Part of it is that Matt’s been really busy and frazzled with getting things set for the new students to move into our building and hasn’t been around that much. Part of it is that I’m worried about us maybe having to move, and about the dent that’s going to put in my finances.
Sunday was one of the worst weekend days I’d had in a long time – complete and utter boredom and loneliness and gloomy weather, resentment over lost or deteriorated friendships, self-flagellation for not being as social as I should be, self-doubt.
I don’t know why I am the way I am. Years of therapy have not gotten rid of it.
Don’t forget, I did offer to let you help me with room inspections on Sunday… ;)
Jerry Herman got it right. Just sing a chorus or two of “I Am What I Am,” and recognize that indeed you are what you are. Therapy can, perhaps, make you happier being what you are, but it can’t change your basic nature. Just accept it and try to enjoy it.
Eat some chocolate, since that’s always good for depression. If you can’t eat chocolate, a show tune is the next best thing to banish boredom and loneliness (even if you’re neither gay nor Jewish).
I have the exact same response as you do. If someone has something that I want but don’t have, it’s much easier for me to hate and resent them — and also hate the assets in question — than to do anything for myself to achieve them. I am unable to stop comparing myself to others: no matter what the situation, I can always find some way that someone else is better than me. They may have more money (a BIG issue!), a better body, a better relationship (or no relationship, which amounts to the same thing in my books), a better job, etc.
If it’s any consolation, I’m envious and resentful of you. Your blog is only part of it — you’ve written some very insightful posts and you have a lot of commenters. I have neither.
But let’s talk about boredom and loneliness. You live in Manhattan for God’s sake, and you’ve got a boyfriend that from all appearances on this blog you get along very well with. I live in a God-foresaken suburban wasteland in Westchester with a “partner” with whom I no longer have anything in common. But we can’t break up because we have dogs and a mortgage and we can’t sell the house because our entire savings are caught up in it and market stinks. So I’m trapped.
I encounter people like you and it’s like there’s a whole new wonderful world — that I am perpetually forced to view from the outside looking in. Perhaps this is just a greener-grass issue, but that doesn’t change the fact that your life is a million times better than mine.
I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been feeling down. When I’m in that place — which is pretty often — I find that escaping with a good book helps. Or better, a savage game of RISK or Axis & Allies over a few glasses of brandy.*
*Yes, I know that in more ways than I really care to admit I identify with Arnold Rimmer.
We’re all beautiful messes.
Take consolation in that.
I’m here. I’m with you. I’m feeling it. Some days, I’m concert/recording reviews; some days I’m political rage; some days, I’m porn; some days, I’m disjointed bits of thought that make my friends who read me REALLY uncomfortable. I always wish there were more people reading, just like I always wish there were more people watching/listening when I sing, when I read, when I play, whatever. In the end, this space is for whatever you want to put in it. It’s yours. Just be true to yourself. That is all.