I am constantly studying and writing and putting together self-made puzzles in my mind. And for what? What is my reason?
And here enters existentialism. I suddenly remembered how my interest perked when I read about Nietzsche in College. My brain was in a completely different space back then and it was more…”that’s cool but I have to learn how to use a weird statistical calculator so I can get a random grade so that I can have a degree and work in a job that I never use that calculator at. I can’t be bothered with Nietzsche just now.”
And then I traipsed off into the world of “normality” where I lost myself for a very long time.
And then I came back to existentialism, back to study of Nietzsche and the art of writing and the history of literature and philosophy. One day, when I felt safe, I could hear myself again. And talking to myself leads to learning about things that truly interest me.
My study of existentialism led, quite naturally for me, into study of positive psychology and the element of human psyche.I’m not sure how I’ll ever have enough time to learn it all, because the research done on the way our brains work and the way our mind processes is abundant. I want to read it all. And then process it all.
And one way I process is by writing and working through my personal internal gunk.
Side bar: I am, perhaps, a bit mid-life crisis-ish. (That’s a horrible sentence. I see it.)
I know I’m at this existential crisis point of my life…It’s hard to admit to the mid-life, but as my body likes to remind me, midlife has likely already passed. Ahem, this is an entirely different topic. But, basically I’m having a mid-life crisis. And I’m like…what does it even MATTER? Like, all the little things we force ourselves to do every day. I have this horrible, heavy feeling of “I can’t even be bothered.” It’s the strangest feeling. Some type of chemical concoction of my brain that responds to medication but also does not. Because what is the point of even that?
Back to the point, out of the void: I just like to write. I like to learn about stuff. I like to then think about that stuff I learned. And then I like to understand it. A passion, if you will for learning and understanding.
But then passion…that goes off on a whole other trail of emotion and thought. Because passion isn’t really acceptable in the time we’re in. People are like…wow, you make a great living for yourself by working 80 hours a week. Instead of…wow, you are a very good learner, that must make you very happy (but ew, probably poor).
I myself admire a passionate nature. But the life I’ve chosen for myself isn’t really true to that nature. Blah, blah duality is maddening.
I start blog after blog. I always abandon them. And I’m not doing that anymore. I suppose I’m going to turn this into more of what I think a blog for me should be…a journal.
I’ve come a long way from a passionate child who talked too much….to a passionate adult who plays “life” pretty well. And getting to this point–the point of self love and self truth…it’s amazing. How can I tell the others?!
For me it was journaling. The best free therapy a human could ask for. If I had been in therapy for the number of hours I have spent journaling? I would have a very appreciative therapist.
Self Therapy is the best therapy. Cultivating my own garden of happy!