I'm not confident about myself. At all. Not that that should come as a surprise to anyone that reads regularly - there must be one or two of you out there. See, example one, self deprecation rather than thinking that I actually do any good with this blog.
I thought about titling this entry either 'The Debilitating Effects of Self Hatred' or 'When Self Loathing Becomes A Habit', but on the whole I don't think I really hate or loathe myself - I have moments, patches, when that does happen, but on the whole, it is more a doubt thing.
Let's start by thinking about work. I question my competence for the job on a daily/hourly basis - I question whether my workmates like or care what I am talking about, so stay as quiet as a mouse - I move desks next to a busy corridor, I think oh, now 'they' will have to work double hard to ignore me, because I'm not worth speaking to or acknowleding anyways.
I have always been more keen to listen to criticism about myself than praise, wanting to shrug any positives away, while giving eagle eyed attention to my flaws, almost as if I am cultivating them for future harvesting. Praise is like rain falling in the desert instead - a quick warm feeling, then onto the negatives.
My friendships and relationships. I often wonder if I am worthy in the friendship sense, whether they talk to me out of a sense of pity - well, not pity perhaps, but something similar, and on the relationship side whether I can let my self deprecating guard down and let someone in. Whether I deserve it, often the nagging feeling of how will I screw this one up in the back of my mind.
I think how my friends are scattered to the four winds basically, and what I can do to shore them up. I don't send nearly enough emails - and by emails I don't mean the internet joke recycling assembly line, but real emails, with real information and such. I think about how I could maybe give people glimpses of how I'm doing with my blog, but fear it could seem a verbal slide show and there would be very little interest out in real world land.
I think I may be afraid of happiness. I have spent most of my life trying to be a human sponge, to take in the ideas of people around me, and not forcing my opinions on others, that it may be that I am afraid of having what I want, because for starters that would mean actually figuring that out.
Sometimes I feel that my life, the way I have constructed it, is a mental Maginot Line (massive French fortifications built between the world wars), that I compartmentalise my life excessively - no, that's a work thought, can't mix it with the friends, the travel, the family - and that may be to avoid actually making my mind up about things. Sometimes I feel that my blog is the only place where I can express myself - sometimes as a writing exercise, sometimes because my blood is boiling and I want to get a point across.
And no, I am not in love with my blog LOL.
I feel I am at a crossroads - six months away from thirty, living with my parents (yes, it is as ick as you probably imagine it), my pleb level job, I could be selling hamburgers it feels such a commodity providing thing. I feel I am using my debts, admittedly they are high, I feel I may be using them as a convenient mental block to avoid any changes at the moment. I could be searching for another job, I could be looking to move again, I could even be getting out of the computer room more and living my life.
Every Sunday going to the movies is not a social life. But then I kind of fear if I do have a social life, I may enjoy it too much - see above with the unsuredness I have around happiness.
And yes, this is one of those posts I am throwing together as I go along rather than analysing every word, every phrase for how good it might sound - a rant, a stream of consciousness rather than an attempted work of art or literature.
More later
Paul
I thought about titling this entry either 'The Debilitating Effects of Self Hatred' or 'When Self Loathing Becomes A Habit', but on the whole I don't think I really hate or loathe myself - I have moments, patches, when that does happen, but on the whole, it is more a doubt thing.
Let's start by thinking about work. I question my competence for the job on a daily/hourly basis - I question whether my workmates like or care what I am talking about, so stay as quiet as a mouse - I move desks next to a busy corridor, I think oh, now 'they' will have to work double hard to ignore me, because I'm not worth speaking to or acknowleding anyways.
I have always been more keen to listen to criticism about myself than praise, wanting to shrug any positives away, while giving eagle eyed attention to my flaws, almost as if I am cultivating them for future harvesting. Praise is like rain falling in the desert instead - a quick warm feeling, then onto the negatives.
My friendships and relationships. I often wonder if I am worthy in the friendship sense, whether they talk to me out of a sense of pity - well, not pity perhaps, but something similar, and on the relationship side whether I can let my self deprecating guard down and let someone in. Whether I deserve it, often the nagging feeling of how will I screw this one up in the back of my mind.
I think how my friends are scattered to the four winds basically, and what I can do to shore them up. I don't send nearly enough emails - and by emails I don't mean the internet joke recycling assembly line, but real emails, with real information and such. I think about how I could maybe give people glimpses of how I'm doing with my blog, but fear it could seem a verbal slide show and there would be very little interest out in real world land.
I think I may be afraid of happiness. I have spent most of my life trying to be a human sponge, to take in the ideas of people around me, and not forcing my opinions on others, that it may be that I am afraid of having what I want, because for starters that would mean actually figuring that out.
Sometimes I feel that my life, the way I have constructed it, is a mental Maginot Line (massive French fortifications built between the world wars), that I compartmentalise my life excessively - no, that's a work thought, can't mix it with the friends, the travel, the family - and that may be to avoid actually making my mind up about things. Sometimes I feel that my blog is the only place where I can express myself - sometimes as a writing exercise, sometimes because my blood is boiling and I want to get a point across.
And no, I am not in love with my blog LOL.
I feel I am at a crossroads - six months away from thirty, living with my parents (yes, it is as ick as you probably imagine it), my pleb level job, I could be selling hamburgers it feels such a commodity providing thing. I feel I am using my debts, admittedly they are high, I feel I may be using them as a convenient mental block to avoid any changes at the moment. I could be searching for another job, I could be looking to move again, I could even be getting out of the computer room more and living my life.
Every Sunday going to the movies is not a social life. But then I kind of fear if I do have a social life, I may enjoy it too much - see above with the unsuredness I have around happiness.
And yes, this is one of those posts I am throwing together as I go along rather than analysing every word, every phrase for how good it might sound - a rant, a stream of consciousness rather than an attempted work of art or literature.
More later
Paul
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