Despite my recent pattern of LENGTHY rants and streams of consciousness characterized by abundant digressions, the title here itself probably says all that needs to be said. (Or at least summarizes the gist in as few words possible better than anything else could.)
Like, seriously… I just don’t even know anymore. And it’s humbling.
Steemit started with such a huge bang. There was a flow to writing that clearly was well-received. Those days were quite Divine. And since…??
Is it truly even worth writing & publishing anything anymore, when it’s unclear whether there’s even more than one person reading it? Votes don’t count for shit since the majority are automated, and the sparsity of comments have felt to be fuelling more discouragement than the sense my contributions are appreciated.
And what are those “contributions,” in essence?
I’d like to think they were a “labor of love,” but would be lying to assert that as truth. Honestly, the bulk seem to either be vents/rants for the purpose of blowing off steam - which really doesn’t add any “positive vibes” at all - or are forced out of some logical ego-driven need to feel “productive” or some shit, as though “taking action” is “better” than leaving the endless list of ideas to write about untouched… the output, products of some twisted sense of obligation or intellectual “trying to prove” something, rather than anything even truly close to “love.”
Sure, some may deems there’s value in “authenticity…” but maybe - though the ego might not like admitting it - the lack of feedback is in itself feedback. And I really don’t need anyone telling me that my content is shit compared to what it used to be (or try stroking my ego to bullshit as though it’s better than it is.)
And this is not new. Probably been nearly 5 years this pattern is characteristic of my relationship with writing here. So am I just the “insane” guy, doing same thing over & over, expecting different results?
I miss those old good days of writing… and the engagement it got/created. Not simply for the financial rewards, but the joys seeing/hearing/reading the positive impact it was having on others.
Though as the saying goes, ’what does one have to give when their cup is empty…?
Truth is, I’m kinda almost sorta (or maybe remove the “kinda almost sorta”) scared lately, when realizing it’s been nearly two years since the notable point of having “sunk into a depression” - for lack of better words, and ones I rather hate - and potentially a bit over dramatic (or maybe not). I’d love to reframe it “positively” or articulate the experience in some ways that are perhaps more dissociative from the state and could perpetuate the ego’s desire to be ”above” such human vulnerabilities/frailties. I might prefer to reframe it as “circumstantial,” giving an extensive rationalization for all the reasons the conscious mind can grasp as to why it’s “natural” or ‘to be expected’ given the totalities of “things that’ve happened beyond my control that are taking time to process, blah blah blah.” Yet no matter what words I try use to sugar-coat the reality, the soul-torment keeping me awake at night and weighing down my spirit during the days… well, it truthfully feels as though I’ve made zero “progress” in any real regards in nearly two years. And that is fucking scary.
This whole “midlife crisis” thing is no joke. 😹
And for as much as the ‘vents & rants’ might provide some temporary relief to “get it out,” I can’t help but feel as though it’s self-degrading to go on & on with the details of it. Yet, when stuck in the mud, spinning wheels, getting nowhere… I dunno. How do I call the fucking tow truck…?
For as much merit/virtue there may be to practicing delayed gratification by waiting for the next crypto pump to make any moves, strategizing for the long-term, how many fucking years of my life have been spent waiting rather than living?
Yet, it’s like every fucking dogmatic platitude propagated by “self-help” & “motivational” know-it-alls has fallen flat on their fucking faces. “Just do the work…” ok, so ‘I wanna make music & write? Do I really? Cuz attempting to “persist” with it has felt like hell. It’s got to such a rock-bottom that I’ve finally humbled myself to undergo an ADHD diagnosis, given that seems to be the one thing in my awareness the past couple years that’d make any sense of it and might actually promise any help. (While spawning a whole other inner war against the stubborn rebel within who’s took a hard stance against western medicine & pharmaceuticals his whole life.)
And while part of me questions if I’ve just been rationalizing staying in a comfort zone I hate in my hometown rather than take a leap of faith to leave again before it feels clearly time, there’s also a sense of maturity & wisdom in acknowledging that wherever I go, I’ll be taking me & this energy with me… which could surely have harsher consequences in foreign lands during the middle of WW3 than the conditions here, which while not offering a steady stream of dopaminergic stimulation to appease the addictive desire for distractive pleasure, does provide a degree of stability & structure that might actually be necessary for a phase of healing whatever da fuq it is I’ve been attempting to run away from for over a couple decades.
Ah, life. It was so much easier when youthfully naive and I had a ton of “effective” coping/compensatory mechanisms/strategies to keep isolated in the bubble of grandiose fantasies. Ha.
So yeah… what to write from here, when there’s no feedback to validate whether it’s of value to anyone and actually worth the continued time & energy?
It’s tough to tell whether “this is truly where I need to be,” or have become numb to “inner guidance” for answers to such questions.
I almost kinda admire people who find happiness in simple lives, who are a walking an embodiment of the “ignorance is bliss” truth. But, each our paths are different. And surely, no one’s is all as easy as we might assume.
Yada, yada, yada.
At least I managed to keep this post concise, less than 2000-3000 words and not in need of 3-8 other parts, unlike the other four writing ideas started over the last month. Lol.
To conclude - whether the relevance to everything above is clear or not: enjoy your blessings while they last. Seasons always change. All that is good must eventually come to its end… and perhaps, so too, all that is unfavourable, as well…
And maybe we create our own purgatories & hells by resisting these natural cycles, failing to extract the wisdom & growth in them fully, given it’s not usually pleasant to face everything that lies in the shadows - and keep ourselves stuck through the resistance, rather than just embracing & surrendering to the entire spectrum of ups & down on/in the human journey. Or some shit.
Anyways… to leave off with something of exceptional value, to make up for whatever above was not, I’d HIGHLY recommend this interview with Gabor Mate (and his newest book, “The Myth Of Normal”) to anyone/all going through there own life challenges, as he so brilliantly spells out so much detailing why so many of us end up as we do. True gold. 🙏
