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Spin Cycle |
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"You cannot solve a problem from the same consciousness that created it.
You must learn to see the world anew."
- Albert Einstein.
Well, these columns are going to be interesting. Upon sitting down to write this yesterday and today, I am able to clearly see one of the biggest reasons I have resisted writing anything on a regular basis—myself. More specifically, my sometimes extremely negative mental space I inhabit.
Under the pressure of posting every week, I now have to post despite whether I am feeling strong. I now have to post when I am feeling pathetic; which I currently am after two days of being bedridden, struck down by food poisoning when I least expected it. I don’t take to sickness very well. I find it far more psychologically defeating than physically depleting. Left to my own devices and two days in bed, I will invent a lot of horrible things about who I am and what’s really going on with the world.
Whatever it is, today, I feel defeated and filled with self-doubt. Right now, in this moment, I feel like Debbie friggin’ Downer. I don’t want to write. At all. My brain is currently getting the best of me.
Maybe I spent too much time reading The Economist online. The whole world is going to Hell in a hand basket--what’s the point of writing a stupid column? Perhaps it was the early morning news that a movie with a devastating similarity to a screenplay I wrote is being made. Why do I even bother? I’m never going to have a career writing. Maybe it’s my insecurity about even writing these blogumns anymore after a friend told me our mutual writer friend (who I greatly respect) said that they’re too narcissistic and real writers don’t write about themselves…that one struck a nerve. It was like a psychological fucking root canal. Who am I kidding? I suck at writing. No one wants to read this crap.
Perhaps it’s my heavy heart. It’s hard to write with a heavy heart. Actually, it's impossible unless you’re writing epic poems or sad love songs. I have at least two people I can thank today for my heavy heart. Do I elaborate on who those people are and the situations that cause me this intense suffering? Because those would be some pretty juicy stories. Is that airing dirty laundry? Or am I just scared to write those feelings down and then have to face them? These people are so close to me, just the mere thought of them is enough to trigger deep-seated feelings of worthlessness and guilt coupled with intense loneliness. I settle for acknowledging their presence (or rather, non-presence) in my life and therefore, in this column. Who cares? I’m ugly and unlovable. It’s hopeless. I should just call it a day and stick my head in an oven…
But it doesn't end there. Because right on the heels of all this self-loathing, comes the shame and embarrassment for even feeling this way. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. You have more than most people on the planet. Be grateful for all that you do have. Get on the phone and call someone who can snap you out of this, dingbat.
Directly after that, comes the disappointment in myself. You’re weak. You know better than to give in to this. You’re a yoga instructor for crying out loud. Don’t you know how to get on top of this thinking by now?
As you can see, I’m spinning.
With voices in my head like this, who needs enemies? It’s taken me a long time and lot of work to be able to recognize this spin cycle for what it is. At least now I am able to step outside of it, instead of allowing it to consume and define me. Well, not for too long. Now, thank God, I have tools and people who can stop the record from skipping.
I really don’t want to share this part of me with the world. I want to isolate my weakness and check back in when I’m feeling powerful again. This is why I’m a writer, after all, because I can do just that. For days, weeks, sometimes MONTHS at a time, I can hide my self-hatred from the world and more importantly, myself. But this is where I am right now, today, whether I like it or not. And whether I like it or not, I made a promise to myself to write one damn blogumn a week. So I'm stickin' to it, no matter what mental state I'm in.
Much like the
24-hour news cycle, my brain manages to take a very small situation and
blow it completely out of proportion. Even if the circumstances are
very real, poignant and historical, like the loss of my mother or
revolution in Egypt for instance, somehow the talking heads, analysts
and critics manage destroy the humanity of it all.
As much as I like to deny it, I’m human. I need sleep. I get sick. I have insecurities. I get lonely. I get zits. I’m not always funny or happy or in a positive head space. And I need to have compassion for this person, because if I am unable to love myself at my worst, I am robbing myself of the joy of simply being alive. Which should always be good enough.
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