I’m spiraling out of control

A stream of consciousness post

“Three entrances to parking garage at night with neon signs that say Entry or No Entry” by Mike Wilson on Unsplash

One of the aims that I set for blogging was to be authentic. While I write advice for personal growth, I’m still growing myself. I’m not finished growing. Some of the positive traits I’ve received are still so new the paint hasn’t dried yet.

With that said, I feel like I’m spiralling out of control.

The spiral begins with there being an acute lack of romance or sex. I’ve been comfortably living in my head for years to stave off the loneliness but ever since I’ve decided to stop doing that, it feels like someone pushed me out of a plane.

Is there a parachute? I don’t know. There’s a backpack on my back, but I don’t want to pull on these ripcords. I don’t trust them. And yet I still want to pull on them just to see if they work, but I can’t because I’ve done the math and I realize that none of these cords that are flying around on this backpack are ripcords that will unfurl my parachute.

This backpack is probably filled with fear and subconscious beliefs that keep me from getting what I want (and maybe yogurt).

In this bullshit metaphor, I don’t get a choice to stop jumping out the plane — and I don’t want to not jump out either. But in the past, I’ve jumped, pulled on the cords and all sorts of nonsense came flying out of the backpack, none of which were parachutes.

And so I hit the ground, bloody and broken. Yet, everything resets. I heal. And before I know it, I’m back in the sky and being pushed out of the plane again.

Convinced that I’ve learnt my lesson, I pull on the cords again, thinking that a parachute will unfurl but to no avail.

This is why, even now, I don’t want to pull. I’ve done my observation and these cords won’t work either. So I’ll hit the ground either way. In fact, I think I already have. I wouldn’t be writing this if I hadn’t. I’d be hopeful but I’m not.

I think to myself people will look at me and think, “What a fucking fool. He didn’t even pull on anything! He’s suicidal.” That is certainly how it feels. By not pulling (that is, not revealing how I feel or trying with anyone out of fear or some subconscious programming) it looks like I jumped to my death.

And yet, there is no difference to the times when I revealed how I felt and tried to be with someone. Hit the ground then, I hit the ground now. And to be honest, this is less painful. I wasn’t pulling and a fucking frying pan didn’t come out of the backpack and slapped me in the face like the last time.

I just have to resign myself to the fact that I may continue to jump and fail to find an actual ripcord. When I hit the ground and become some gelatinous glob, I’ll figure out why those cords still were useless and the next time I jump, maybe the cords will actually be useful.

Or maybe in this round, I haven’t hit the ground yet. I’m praying someone will save me but I know that it won’t happen. I’m fast approaching the ground and instead of being blindsided with failure, I see it from 3000 feet… 2000… 1000… 500… 250… 125… 60.. 30.. 15.. 7..3..1.

My birthday recently passed. It was great and also harrowing. Why? I don’t think I process love well. Such an outpouring from almost all corners of my life at once was a lot to bear. While I’m definitely grateful, I realize (or remember) why I hid my birthday on Facebook or wanted to do nothing to celebrate.

Is it a lack of self-love? I don’t know. But you would think that love would charge me up. It did, but it also made me self-conscious. I suppose that’s normal but I don’t know if it is healthy. It ties in with romance too. How can I let someone in if I get so self-conscious when they show love?

The more I feel a connection, the harder it is to connect. As friends, it’s so easy. Romantically? Ha! Like I said, I have a problem. Let me fall and learn the lesson(s).

I can tell that being in a house of four but staying to myself from about six probably didn’t help. And while friends would come over for a few years, it doesn’t change why I stayed away from my family in the first place. There was too much animosity among us. Home became synonymous with being alone.

It’s hard to trust in a romantic way. Like I said, the more of a connection, the harder it is to connect romantically. I don’t typically get sexual needs met by those I have the stronger connections for. But I have a feeling that this is a problem a lot of people have.

I know so many dudes that go for the “low-hanging” fruit and would never dare look at the “choice” fruit at the top. They think they’ll fuck it up. They won’t tell you that, but that’s probably what it is. Some try and do get fucked up. They then take it as a sign to never venture there again.

The “low-hanging” fruit isn’t meant to be interpreted that these people are easy and not as worthy. It’s that these people pose little to no challenge to you specifically and if you lose them, you’ll be fine. They won’t reflect your own shit back to you as clearly as the “choice” fruit.

These days I live in a fucking hallway of mirrors it seems. I’m grateful because I’m growing but it hurts to see that that’s you in that person.

And this is why I can’t pull these ripcords because I know they aren’t ripcords. I could pull but I wouldn’t be surprised if a loaf of bread popped out. (That’s actually not so bad. I could eat something other than yogurt.)

But I can’t pull these cords because I can see that these women (while awesome) have the same problems I do. I can’t trust you (that is, pull the cord) and know that a parachute will come out. I’ve tried and it didn’t work.

But they can’t trust me either.

If I look at this person who I feel a strong link for, who is a reflection of me and I don’t feel like I can trust them, if they look at me they too will feel the same link, they would see that I am a reflection of them, and they too would feel a sense of uncertainty.

My mind has gone quiet ever since I realised this.

Now, one could say, “Not necessarily, Jason. Just because you feel a link to someone doesn’t mean it is reciprocated.” I get the sentiment, but this isn’t high school. It wouldn’t be a link based on looks or what is deemed attractive by society. At some point, people realise that that basic stuff isn’t going to make them happy.

So when I say “link”, I’m not referring to that. It’s something more fundamental. It’s almost as if you like this person because they have the same flaws as you but you’re only subconsciously aware of this.

So when I stop ignoring that subtle niggling that there is a lack of trust and stop fawning over their beauty, I wake up. This isn’t a ripcord.

But it’s also true that I cannot be trusted. My specific brand of distrust would be that I love in a way that I think should make you love me back. If this sounds sleazy to you, good. It is. But it gets worse. If you don’t reciprocate in the way I expect, or worse, you bail, I lose a chunk of respect for you.

Suddenly I hold the moral high-ground after setting up a system where I was to be repaid for my kindness, chivalry, interest, affection and attention. It’s completely unfair but I’ve never been called out on it explicitly so it continued to be my blind spot, until now.

I wanted to talk about career stuff but the spiral has stopped, so I guess that wasn’t very relevant. I guess seeing how I was the engineer of my own problem has caused me to stop sinking down the drain. Which is great because I was getting dizzy anyway.

But I see how this can apply to work. There’s a meritocracy that makes me think that if I do this, then I must get that. Sadly, this just isn’t true. You can sink hours of work into something but it doesn’t mean people will love it or buy it or want it. You just have to do what you have to do because of the innate love that exists for the job or the person.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some apologizing to do.

Former Edu. Psychologist | Current Writer | Constant Learner | “By your stumbling the world is perfected.”

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