Psychology and the Intrigue of Obsessions

It has taken effort to post on this blog in the last couple of years, if you notice by way of how the number of posts dropped to nearly nothing. I used to write about whatever was on my mind, and then I decided that since nobody seemed to care about my thoughts, why was I sharing them? Plus, the thoughts that I have are often repetetive, I obsess over the same things all the time. I was once obsessed with religion, but that obsession waned in place of an obsession with psychology, an obsession with getting to know my own mind and the ways in which people misinterpret minds that are like mine. Even though I am no longer obsessed with religion I am still very much a spiritual person, my beliefs are my foundation for existence. They keep me centered when possible and I have hope that whatever God's will is in my life it shall be done. That is the major way I have kept OCD thoughts from attacking me about life in general. Whatever will be will be.
My obsession with psychology is ongoing because I am always hyperaware of myself and my moods. If I read about depression, anxiety, OCD, or even Asperger's (which I may have), I am better able to understand why I am feeling or acting a certain way and accept my ways of being. Also, I can explain my behavior to others who have no idea what I am going through.
I have recently come to discover that I may have executive dysfunction which I am reading about in curiousity because it describes issues with inhibition and there was one symptom of it that I found completely startling, that some people with executive dysfunction have trouble forming their own ideas and are better at creating through someone else- like an enhanced version of copying. I can copy something in front of me and add to it, but ask me to create from nothing and I go blank. I would not call this a lack of creativity, as with the right motivation and guidance I am highly creative, but it is a hinderance when asked to draw or write or make crafts from an idea of my own. This is all fascinating to me. Even the notion of creating from nothing leads into my inability to move in a direction unless I can imagine/visualize it happening, and I need details in order to do something. If someone asks me if I want to paint signs (which someone did last year) they have to show me what this means or I am paralysed, I have no idea what they are asking and I have no inclination toward it. Paint them how? What do the signs look like? What paint is being used? What colors are involved? What would I have to do? Straight, crooked, freehand, words, numbers, what? But all this time I thought humans would spontaneously give me this information, not realising that they don't have this impairment and that they can't see what I need. I have to ask for it. I didn't know I had to so I haven't in the past and questions do not come easily for me, if I can't even begin to imagine the idea I cannot form the questions. They wait for me to answer them and my only answer is that I don't know. Put me in front of a sign and ask me to paint it and I will. Ask me if I want to and nothing will happen.
I'm finding out all kinds of interesting things. I know why I don't react positively to the words "Do you understand?" And that's because all my psychologists are doing is asking me if I understand their words which I almost always do, so I nod, but they get upset when I nod and ask me again as though I didn't hear them. The problem isn't in understanding the words, it is in knowing the implications of the words. What does what they just said mean in context of what we were talking about? I don't know, I've totally lost them at the words "Do you understand?" I wasn't following them on a level that had anything to do with understanding. I was trying to listen to their words as words. They didn't mean anything. That's probably why people can give me advice and carry on as though I'm interpreting their words correctly and applying and integrating what they are saying... but no, I don't seem to get that far before they have finished and I'm just wondering why they were talking in the first place. I share what's happening in my life for the sake of sharing. I don't easily adapt to advice. I hear their words, I relate them to my experience, there's a response but it isn't what normal people are expecting. So, when they ask if I understand, I have no idea what they are really asking. They aren't asking me what my thoughts are about their thoughts (which is all I process and am ready to do), they aren't inviting me to share, they are just seeking an abstract reaction. Let's say I am talking about how my emotions and my logic don't listen to each other, and my psychologist says "Sometimes there is a block in the integration between those two sides of our brains. Do you understand?" Just writing it makes me feel weird. First of all, what am I to understand, I just said the same thing she did but in different words. Second, what does she mean to tell me by saying that, it doesn't mean anything to me. Third, if I didn't understand her terms, what could she do about it? Repeat it back to me in the layman's vocabulary I just said to her? Pointless. Interesting phenomenon, though.

I am currently obsessed with an entirely different matter, having a boyfriend. I became obsessed with him almost the instant we began communicating with each other. Before I met him I was immersed in my fantasy realms but he surpassed them. Afterall, he's a real person and I've never met anyone who enthralled me so fully in this world. Humans are fascinating creatures but they are humans, scary, unpredictable, unaccepting... many are just robots pretending to be happy and so even though they would be intriguing they put on their boring personas of ordinariness and go about their seminormal lives, never sharing the depth and treasures within themselves. That's why I haven't been obsessed with real people before. My boyfriend is unique, as he'd like to be called. He wasn't afraid to share this uniqueness with me and he let me share mine with him without judgment. I hyperfocus on him a lot, but in the beginning of our relationship it was even more extreme. I couldn't focus on anything but him and I couldn't function if he didn't reply to me. I still have difficulty shifting perspective from my life with him to my life with my family and friends, occasionally I can't feel anything outside of my emotions for him. Being that our relationship has entwined itself into my psyche, my obsession with psychology has only increased. I want to know what is going on with me, what is it like to be in love, are these feelings natural, is there something wrong with me, what are these intruding thoughts and how are they playing a part in this? There's a lot to study and learn in this respect.

I'm growing as a person and my relationship with my boyfriend has already changed my life in wonderful ways. I've known highs I didn't know I could experience with such frequency! I already know the lows. This makes me wonder about manic depression and if mania is only experienced when there is a reason to be happy. As I haven't had a reason to be happy, my last experience with mania was at least two and a half years ago when I was reading The Book On The Taboo Against Knowing Who You Really Are, by Alan Watts.

I'll stop here for today.

Inspirational Movies?

Today I watched a movie. Nothing special about the act, I watch movies all the time. No, it's my choice of movies that is annoying me. I end up watching Independent films. Dramas mostly. And I do this to find a movie with meaning, with inspiration, with hope. Somehow, though, I end up with the movies where the one of the main characters dies. I cannot handle death. The thought of it scares me. Those movies make me cry, and I do not cry just because of death, but the effect of the character's life, and the impact of their loss upon other characters. This current movie had inspirational messages about listening to oneself, following one's dream, learning how to love, and what love means. It did inspire me, at least until the main character died, and then I practically lost every message. They meant nothing compared to the pain gathering in my heart, the soreness creeping up my throat, the tears sliding down my cheeks. Inspiration is second to suffering. I am there with all that is happening. The characters move on, they sob, they mourn, they get on with life, they smile, they laugh... they pass through the sorrow, all within a span of 10-15 minutes! I'm still feeling it! I do not have their coping skills. I don't have their friends or their support. All I have is the pain, and nothing from before it seems to have any meaning. One might say I take movies too seriously. Maybe that's an understatement. I am affected. I am with the characters. I feel their feelings. I envy their happiness and mirror their sorrow.

I did, however, manage to maintain the inspiration to go for my dreams now, and stop waiting for approval from others. It may never come. They may never say I'm okay. They may never like my journals. I love them. Isn't that enough? It has never been enough. There are people who say that just because you like it doesn't mean it should be shared with the world. Doesn't mean it is worth anything. I heard a story about a boy who was tone deaf. They say he stopped singing because he realized "he couldn't sing". What if he loved singing? What if he only believed he couldn't sing because other people did not encourage his eccentric tones? I shall not know the answer to this question, but I think it is sad. Maybe it wasn't perfect. Maybe it made some people's ear crinkle and scream. Maybe, who knows? I am sure that the Source that made him loves his song. I know a bird who sounds like a little bomb. That little bird sings every morning just before dawn. He probably doesn't inspire beautiful music. But, I like him because he's different. His odd sounds stand out among the rest. To me, that bird is special. Of course, when I hear someone or something out of tune, I also say "Why can't they sing right?" I've already been conditioned to human songs. To human voices. And it is a loss to me. A woman that I know also sings out of tune, and I'm sure she knows it, but she doesn't care. She goes ahead anyway, no matter who gives her strange looks. She has much more life to her than I do. She does not care so much about what other people think. I want to have that assertiveness. I want to be okay with me, even though I'm different. I want to follow my dreams. I want to be an author!

Will the inspiration be enough to initiate self-publishing my journals? I don't know. I can hope.

Depression Stops The Movement

Depression is what has stopped my writing. It has taken me down, beaten me into submission. If every time you went to write a post and someone said, "Don't bother. No one will read it. Or if they do, they won't like it. They won't say anything. Of course, this means your writing sucks. Otherwise people would care. So, don't even bother. Give up. Erase everything you have written and go on with your pathetic life, you loser," would you feel like writing? I cannot seem to stop listening. I hear that voice and I start hearing the voices of others who betrayed me, who made me wrong and not good enough and just a complaining whining baby of a human. I begin to cry, my chest tightens, and I wonder why I am alive. Writing loses it's vitality and worth when I become nothing. It usually happens when I want to write about my depression, or my thoughts about life, God, religion...

Just today I read an inspiring post that said "Stop complaining and get on with your life." By inspiring, I mean it inspired me to have violent thoughts of attacking the people that think writing such words will retrieve anyone from the darkness. But, apparently, it works for some. The post received four likes on facebook. Four people with depression thought, "Hey, I really should be more positive." Yeah, first step to another downward spiral is to expect our depressed minds to function like a healthy person's mind.

Yet, that is what the healthy people convince themselves. All she needs is to get a job, get a car, get a life, stop worrying, stop being depressed, start socializing, and she'll be alright. Hahaha. Getting a job, what would that entail, oh, I don't know, fighting Avoidant Personality Disorder, social anxiety, depression, generalized anxiety, and specific phobias, OCD... sounds easy. Not. It means, "Cassie, all you have to do to be happy is to stop being yourself." Great plan. Afterall, I AM worthless, useless and pathetic. I'm no good for anything. I really should be someone else. Then I'd fit right in. Lovely robot of a human being. Rewire me, and I hope you are happy with the results of your programming.

Otherwise, why couldn't a support group actually support the growing of a rich and deep human being? Why couldn't family and friends help find a niche for this idiosyncratic soul? One book I read described a role that a person as sensitive as I used to play in times gone by. That was the role of advisor. The one who stood removed from the battles and watched, contemplated, made connections, and could advise from this position wiser ways of living.

I do not function under pressure or performance. I am often slow to move. I found enjoyment in sweeping or setting tables. They were sacred acts. Then people entered, and humans destroyed the temple in which I worked. They cluttered the corners with rules, and the ceiling with expectations, they muddied the floor with hurry, and they smashed the tables of peace. No one has lead me to another sacred space. They are all ruined. I am waiting for a place to call home. I am waiting for my vocation. And my life.

Negative Spirals

Being negative toward the negative creates a spiral of negativity. I have read one too many times that negative thoughts create a negative reality. In truth, negative thoughts only create a perception- they have no other power. This perception then influences actions which have an effect upon the world around us. Depending on the circumstances, anything can happen.

What is it with all of these unproved statements saying: "If you don't believe in yourself, no one else will?" Does no one understand how unhelpful and uninspiring that message is? Those that do believe in themselves will agree with this, but those who do not.. they will begin a cycle into despair. I have tried it. I do not believe in myself, and if I listened to that statement, I would think that no one else will either, meaning, I really am not worth anything. But, thankfully, I have met people who DID in fact believe in me, even when I did not believe in myself. If it were not for them, I may never have experienced self-esteem at all. My thoughts, about myself, about the world, about my neighbors, have no bearing, no solidity, unless reinforced in action and in reaction.

Think about it... would the law of gravity exist if the apple didn't always fall back to the ground? If sometimes it floated under the same conditions in which it had fallen? No... and how then can this negativity for negativity? It is not always true. It is only true under certain conditions, making one have to change the hypothesis to: "If you do not believe in yourself, and you voice this outloud, and the people around you are not encouraging or supportive, no one, admidst that group of people, will believe in you." Not so very destructive then. One can just look for support elsewhere.

The truth is.... no one can make you believe in yourself. That we really do have to do for ourselves.

Here's another: "If you think you are going to fail... you will." Okay, who is that going to help? It certainly wouldn't help me. Actually, since I've just been told I'm going to fail if I believe I am, I'm going to believe even more fervently that I will fail. And around the spiral spins. If only these statements were not linked to the negative. How about: "If you believe you are going to fail... don't worry about it. Everything will be alright." And even if you do fail, what's so bad about that? If we were okay with the negative, instead of reinforcing a negative idea, we would calm the troubled mind, ensuring a relaxed and focused response.

Somehow it ended up backward and inspiration became only a place for well, happy, adjusted people, and not the ones who need it most. The ones who do not believe in themselves, see things negatively... they are called whiners, complainers, babies... such wonderful terms... along with childish, immature, and irrational. They are beat down at every turn, told to be happy or else. Told to hate hate and be angry about being angry. (Very silly, if you ask me.) They are apparently punished by God, people, the Universe, karma... this is cruelty. How did we become bitter? The cure is not in attacking bitterness- that creates yet still more bitterness- but in reaching down into the broken root and healing it. Do we expect the man with the broken foot to stand, unanchored, and walk, unsupported? Yet, we expect this of the emotionally wounded. Weird.

When did it become fashionable to stab the man with the broken foot in the toe? More wounds, more cycles, more negativity.

That's why I love this sentence:

"I'm not okay, you're not okay- but that's okay." (I'm not sure where I read this.)

Unfinished Grievance

And here comes the darkness again!

Did it leave? Why yes!

It left with a "I'm okay

with being depressed!"

Really, what the hell?

Yep, and it was swell.

But days of waiting

not speaking my heart

have another depressing

engine beginning to start.

I head for my God

and find He's not there!

His presence has vanished

not even anger spared!

Nothing, the empty Shadow

I prayed to anyway-

Save me from this barren land

give me to my Mother today.

Okay!

I watched a movie and felt

connected to the Source

again, but fractional

a meager force.

Fighting to keep it,

I entered my dreams,

touched nothing but

a host of broken seams.

Wandered into religion,

found those who think like me

running bravely from Christianity,

leaving for brighter shores

while watching, I

hold fast to a sinking ship

and cry, I cry.

For I do not belong

with these people here,

I am afraid they do not even

know how to steer.

Jagged rocks show foaming

as we hit one after another,

teaching hate and screaming

"Love your sister and your brother!"

I am not good enough.

And only if, and still not.

all the requirements to be loved

are sanctimonious rot.

So, weeping for a lost Christ,

a wrecked ship,

and a wave soon approaching,

I toss my last chip

in to the frothing ocean

Here, Mother, come Mother,

come up from the depths

and devour your daughter.

My Father has left me,

will You deny passage, too?

I went begging for scraps

as poor women do.

"Woman Warrior, Woman Monk,

who are you?" I do not know.

I spend my days searching

for a Way to go.

"Enter in drawing

enter in singing,

enter in writing and hoping

caring and dreaming.

Enter in living

the creating

and celebrating

the grateful heart of

a Mother's love

open, inviting."

I've tried, the groans persist

I'd die a thousand deaths in thirst

if I hadn't died a hundred million

in terrible hunger first!

Don't tell me I don't try

hard enough to satisfy

the longing of my soul.

Life is Strange

Life is strange. When my cat was sick, I was sad and worried about her, but I did not really get lost in myself or my depression. And now that she is better, my mind has rewired itself, easily, to its favorite pattern. I do not know how to live without being depressed, unless there is something to do that will entertain my brain enough to forget me. Does this lead me in the direction of caring more about others than myself? I thought about that, how it would feel, whether I love anyone enough to live my life for them, and erase this self who is of no use to any person, animal, or object. While I am depressed, I see the question as an enemy. I do not want to lose who I am. Yet, who am I when I am lost, without an anchor, without hope, without purpose, meaning, or happiness? I am the bitter foe of everyone. Especially the inhabitor of my body. What shall I do today? Nothing. Nothing feels "right". Nothing is fun. It is all work. Thinking is work, feeling is work, playing is work, going places is work, writing is work, reading is work.... goodbye energy. Let me just sleep and dream and stay there until the world becomes what I need to survive. What is that? I am not sure.

Yesterday, a part of me wanted to go to church. To listen, to sing. But, that would entail work. Loss of sleep. Seeing people. I considered writing my own sermon. Guess what I eventually considered that? Yep, work. This state of mind is killing me. I am insane and not getting any saner. Cut me out of my shell, break me open. I will play in the world as though it is me, but the real me is protesting, wanting to hide. There is no safety. There is no place free of expectations and demands. I remain a slave. A slave to psuedolove. A slave to fear.

Promises?

The second week of the God Sightings journal did not speak to me as the new beginnings had. It only said, "Promises kept". What promises? Did God make me promises? I am not too sure about that. Biblically, God made covenants with men, but those men were not I. As I have written in another post, God has been inconsistent when it comes to being trustworthy. Of course, I am talking about trusting Him with security- physical, mental, monetary, material. There is no security with God. One is not promised a healthy, happy life, nor to be protected from pain. However, what of the promise "Ask and it is given."? If I ask for healing and it is not given, has God broken the covenant He made? "Ask and it will be considered." would be a more appropriate promise. It wouldn't leave me hopeless and feeling betrayed when things don't seem to work out. Here it what I feel God has promised me, if He has made them, not in a verbal way, but each of these has proven true throughout the years:

1. I will always be with you.
2. I will grant you passage into the unknown.
3. I will teach, speak, and dance in all things.
4. I will be found in Silence.
5. I will give you questions and answers.

God will remain an enigma. Who, or What is God? And why would God need to make promises? We look for promises because we are looking for assurances. Will God always be with me? Well, He says so, it has to be true! But, what happens when it seems God has abandoned us, left us to our misery, turned His face from us in anger? Can we trust His promise then? No. Trusting a promise is a matter of faith, and I only list the promises I have because they are always true for me, because of who God is to me. My perception of God makes what I say, for me, true. If God were an apple and he promised to be an orange, we couldn't trust that. There is evidence against apples becoming oranges. But, if God were an apple seed and promised to become an apple, that we could rely on.

I once considered that the only faith that wouldn't wither or be riddled with doubt was faith in the unknown. We can have no security blanket. But, I want it, I want it so much that I search for it with desperate longing. I want to trust God. Is this supposed to be achieved by studying the Bible and the promises kept? I don't think about promises when I think about trust. I think about truth and lies. Is God Love? Not Biblically. One can't trust that God will be gentle, understanding, or compassionate. You can't give trust to someone who will turn on you the moment you are having a bad day. Sure, God kept THAT promise, but what did it matter when all of those people were slaughtered beforehand? Is God a fair-weathered friend? "I keep all of my promises." That's nice, but can I trust you? "Of course, I keep all of my promises, didn't I just tell you that you moron? I promise to kill you. I promise to bring harm upon you. I promise to destroy everything in my path..." Um, woops. I'd really rather those promises were not kept, wouldn't you? And how about a favorite promise "I promise to love you if..."

Anyway, I have seen God in this God Sighting week, but not in promises, not exactly. I have seen Him where He always is, in trees and cats and people and books and beauty and love and laughter and smiles and snow and sparkles and lights and clouds. I see Him when I reach out in thought and call God my Beloved or my Lover, for God is my only confidant. I love His utter magnificence and glory. God doesn't need to make me promises. All I want is to be able to touch His hand and stroke Her face and feel Their breath upon my flesh. And God still works bigheartedness into my life. I have seen God in a painful dificulty that has plagued me for a week. This pain gave me a poem. It opened me further. I am at once grateful and annoyed with it. :)