Smoke like a sinner

🚬Handle with care. Once broken considered sold🚬

[light-my-cigarette]

I have always been so hard on myself.

I only know how to motivate and achieve my goals with fear and anxiety. I don’t know any other way.

I can’t approach an exam thinking “it’s okay, if I fail, there’s a resit paper”. Or approach an interview thinking “it’s okay, if I fail I can always apply to another job.” I feel like it’s just setting myself up for failure.

Instead before every such challenge, I give myself a pep talk. Except this isn’t a “you can do it” sort. It’s a “if you fail, you are nothing but worthless, and you will lose the job, lose income, end up homeless.” Sort of a worst case scenario/adrenaline rush sort of scenario.

And it’s always worked. The fear works. Otherwise, without fear how do I get myself to study instead of watching YouTube videos? How do I get myself to achieve the things I want? I may want those things, but I’d never achieve them if I didn’t think I would never ever get them. It makes me try harder, and get it in the end.

I didn’t know this wasn’t how other people’s brains worked until I was a young adult.

I used to negatively reinforce myself as well without realizing - I would not eat until I had finished this chapter. Or not go to the bathroom until I finished taking notes for this topic. I would pinch myself hard in the thigh once for every subtopic I didn’t manage to cover in the day (usually 0-2).

I’m like 29 and I still don’t know how to stop.

[light-my-cigarette]

I’ve always been a perfectionist.

I was 6 when I came home from school crying, because I had gotten 4th out of a class of 30 people. My parents couldn’t understand, because they were really proud of me! But I couldn’t understand how anyone could be happy if they weren’t number 1.

I worked very hard to always be number 1. I often felt like if I made a single mistake, it meant I was a failure. But I became established, I won numerous competitions and I was the star of the school.

When I went to medical school, I couldn’t really expect to score 100% all the time. All the people i went to school with were extremely smart. I thought it would finally happen, knowing I’m not as good as I thought I was.

But I was proven wrong! I wasn’t the best, but I was consistently in the top 10% of the cohort. I kept waiting for one mistake, one proof of my failure. I kept thinking every high score was a fluke, and it would only take the next paper to prove I was an impostor who had just been lucky all along.

I think my perfectionism isn’t too bad. I never boasted, and I always volunteered to help others with their studies. Of course, I wouldn’t let others plagiarize me too much. But I never withheld information or sabotaged.

But I go through life with the feeling that since I’ve never tasted failure, how would it feel when it inevitably happens? It’s like a building anxiety of the moment when I’ll fail - which hasn’t happened yet. It’s like Russian Roulette, and I’m just waiting for the final bullet.

Do I want it to happen? No. But I know it’s inevitable, and I can’t sustain it forever, right? I am worried that the more I succeed, the more I accept I’m great and infallible. Because if the moment of failure comes, it will be so hard.. I was a child who tried to kill myself because I scored 90 instead of 100 for an exam that I thought I would ace.

I keep lowering my expectations, feeling shit after every exam, thinking this is it - I’m going to fail and be mediocre. I’m shit and the mark will show. When it turns out I did well, i’m pleasantly surprised for a short while - before thinking that it was just luck, nobody knows I’m an impostor. I can’t ever take pride in my successes, because deep know I don’t deserve it and I’m this close to failing the next time.

I would like to understand myself better and how I can change this way of thinking.

[light-my-cigarette]

Stuck in the loop of constant self-improvement

Always something to improve, something to change.

Whether it’s my sleeping habits.

My wind-down routine.

My skincare routine or lack thereof.

Little things but they make me feel like I'm less successful if I’m not doing them right.

[light-my-cigarette]

I used to only blog when I was sad. The only time I could be vulnerable with emotions was when I was down. Otherwise it’s a sign of weakness.

Now I’m pretty happy. And I’m glad I’m back to using words the way I always used to. It really helps me process and I don’t know why I ever let it go. Despair makes the world so small, hope makes the horizon seem so near.

[light-my-cigarette]

Okay a reminder of when I last got my words back.

Maybe I just need time.

[light-my-cigarette]

The Loss of Self

It’s scary to write, having not done so in a long time.

It used to be so easy to reach inside my own head and pluck thoughts out, and seamlessly place them on paper.

Now it is confronting, almost impossible to relate to my own thoughts. It has become difficult to be attuned to my own experiences.

Life is mostly about surviving, existing, getting through the day, short-term goals and nothing too extreme.

Is that pathological, is that wrong? Many people seem to live this way, without any deeper sense of meaning, but merely to be present in their roles, to act in such a way that is acceptable, to do the bare minimum to remain afloat.

But is that really living?

If I can’t really read my own mind anymore, let alone interpret my thoughts into sentences?

I sit here thinking about blogging about my views, beliefs, opinions, thoughts – and often I can’t get past what trivial things occurred today.

Life doesn’t have to be a series of big and loud events, it matters more your interpretation of these life events.

I guess I haven’t been alive for a while – I have allowed myself to exist without conscious realization.

Life is about work, the next social outing, the financial grind, and the noise of all that has pushed it all out of my head.

My drug problem and social media addiction makes it harder.

Who am I anymore?

Am I contrasting myself to my idealistic former self, a polarized individual who felt passionately, and could often only see in black and white?

I’m much calmer now, and I don’t feel strong emotions anymore. It’s become a habit to rationalize things, and see others’ perspectives. Which is helpful in its own, but have I adapted myself so much to fit in with society and avoid conflict, that I have lost the ability to be critical and have opinions?

What really is the meaning to life?

How do I connect to myself again – the whole self, even the part I thought was unpleasant, in order to understand myself better?

How do I work towards being able to think my own thoughts, and create meaningful sentences to describe them?

All my life I wrote with the feeling that someone may read them and think so-and-so of what I have written, and thus – I self-censor. I moderate. I control my own thoughts.

I have a fear of losing control, of being too individual, of being too different.

But now, as another sheep, am I happy?

[light-my-cigarette]

Moving abroad

I moved from my home country at the age of 28, to a place that is foreign yet not.

I studied here briefly for half a year, and dated someone who was from here and had visited loads. I also had quite a few uni friends (no one close) who had moved here too, but they were scattered across the country.

Coupled with Coronavirus, and my brewing social anxiety, I just felt so detached. The first few months was settling into a new routine, focusing on my job, buying new things for my house, and then.. it was just grey. A monotonous routine. I felt unmotivated to do anything but binge watch TV after work and scroll social media and miss my friends.

Back home, I was always busy, with friends, with people who loved and knew me, and here.. I am nothing.

The hardest part for me was the overwhelming feeling of loneliness, you go from having your support system around, your group of school/uni friends and family, to consistently making small talk with strangers hoping it might blossom into something real. I didn't realise how exhausting that kind of thing can be.

I live in a beautiful town, but I can't appreciate the beauty. I have a few casual acquaintances, but no one I can really talk to. Maybe the problem is me (I'm sure it is). I can’t really open up and talk to people anymore. I can't be my old, cheerful self.

I know they say it takes time, maybe a few years, but god it’s been almost a year and I just feel I've not progressed.

I’m trying so hard yet, I wish I could be better. I judge myself, a lot. “Why do I not have friends? Why can’t I enjoy what's around me - people are jealous that I'm living abroad but why can’t I make the most out of it? Why am I weak?”

How long will it take? Another year, or two? When do I finally feel like I have a life here?

Reddit tips I’ve seen:

1) Making acquaintances into friends:

Suggest low-key events. Coffee, cinema, a drink.

Give each potential friend maybe 3 tries, 4 max. If they are always busy or raincheck, they aren't so keen on you.

Don't say no. Particularly when it comes to things that might not normally be your cup of tea - going to parties where you know almost no one, going for late nights when you would rather be asleep, trying a hobby you might not really be interested in. Point is, get out of your comfort zone and don't talk yourself out of new things.

Don't have too high of expectations of any one friend. Have acquaintances who do things, don't worry about filtering them for true compatibility at this stage. You want people to hang out with, and later you will discover one or two close friends. But don't make any one person your sole source of entertainment or emotional support. Try not to put all your eggs in one basket.

Don't wait for someone else to do the things you want. Go to gallery openings, or to events, or travel.

Be ok with being by yourself.

[light-my-cigarette]

I chose this path. So I can’t keep bitching about how I need to continuously upgrade myself.

[light-my-cigarette]

Just be hit by a truck and be done with it

[light-my-cigarette]

No matter what anyone does to help me, or what good things come my way, I’ll never escape. I’ll never run away from being unhappy and discontent.

What even is the point of trying?

[light-my-cigarette]

I remember waking up early Xmas morning (a holiday that my family doesn’t even celebrate) filled with the Xmas spirit and wishing Santa Claus the best even though he didn’t give me any presents.

All that wonder disappears as you get older.

[light-my-cigarette]

Never realised how lonely I was until now.

Fuck alone time. I miss being surrounded by people who love me. Now it’s so quiet all the time and I have to fill my time with things. Meaningless things.

I thought I had become introverted. And I thought I had put it in the past - the very deep sense of loneliness thay plagued my late teens and early twenties. But now it’s back, stronger than ever.

[light-my-cigarette]

Please I just want one thing

To see him

[light-my-cigarette]

I used to have very little free time

And spent it smoking weed and sleeping

Now I have more time

And smoking weed just isn’t filling it enough

I feel alive

But not existing

Disconnected from everyone around me

It’s not the way to live

And I know that

But how do I

Get myself out

[light-my-cigarette]

A year ago I would never have thought I would change job, move to a new country and change boyfriend in 2021 lol

[light-my-cigarette]

Everyone is satisfied with a work level friendship because they already have real deep friends in their life. But I’m looking for real friends at work and that’s very hard.

[light-my-cigarette]

Can you have anhedonia but not be depressed?

I guess yes, if your anhedonia is a direct result of stupid COVID

[light-my-cigarette]

People can be “close” to you while still fulfilling different roles. Doctor, social worker, teacher, lawyer.

All these people can “care” about you, but probably not just as a “friend”. But they can still “care” even when it’s just their job. Just that they are not your “friend”. They don’t care about you like a “friend”.

Things I tell myself anyways