It’s been a long time since I posted anything on this blog, it’s late at night, I’m feeling worse for wear. BOOM. Perfect timing.
Since the middle of this summer, I have hit a complete brickwall. I mean, probably some of the lowest lows I’ve ever felt. I kept trying to figure out why, WHY was I hitting this new emotional barrier, when things were seemingly going so well?
Truth is, I know what it is: It’s a battle of logic over emotion. I’m 26, not very old in the scheme of things, but I feel like I haven’t LIVED, or had the chance to really live the way I’d like to. Frankly, right now, I’m in a spot where I don’t know what that life should be anymore. Sure, career-wise, I am film obsessed, and I wrote a pretty good screenplay, but I’ve been lazy in getting people to read it, and to send it out. I’ve been depressed enough to where I stopped caring about the gold resting beside me. It’s become disinteresting, not in the sense I don’t love what I wrote, but in the sense that something has just not been able to fill the void I felt after writing it.
Writing something, doing something creative, is incredibly draining, and can be quite an emotional experience, especially if the work demands it. With A Social Animal, I took the deepest, darkest parts of me, and put them on paper, to the extent it’s made me feel like a bit of a psychopath because of some of the things I came up with. I’ve talked to a lot of people about this, and they say that it’s actually a good thing that I know I COULD potentially be capable of that, because it means I have a keen awareness of myself, and who I know myself to be deep down. I think everyone feels rage, passionate anger, towards things, but it is all dependent on the the person when the action is decidedly followed through.
Anyway, to be frank, the script isn’t even the main part of all this, it’s more that I’ve attempted to truly unlock my psyche in a way I have not done before. Through my therapy, I have discovered a lot about myself, and about my past that I didn’t realize, or I had forgotten, and that information has been somewhat detrimental to me. I have dropped out of school. I am alone most of the time. I have days where I do nothing, where I don’t even make an ATTEMPT to do anything, including get out of bed. I’m scared of life, and of living me life because I feel constantly judged, when it’s almost always my perception of myself doing the judging. I’ve had to admit to my shortcomings, my need for perfection, my egomania about my craft, my delusions of grandeur, my lust for women (without obtainment), my laziness…
What’s weirdest about all this is what people say. They think I’m doing spectacularly well, that by figuring a lot of this stuff out now, it will help me tremendously along the road. I watch my friends move past me at blinding speed, reaching positions of power at a young age. I have seen others slip into drug abuse, and depravity. Others still, have completely cut themselves off, or have moved on to other prospects that don’t involve me. It’s all very intimidating, and yet, I get praise for what is basically doing nothing. That being said, emotional wounds aren’t visible. I have a lot of them. I’ve talked about it many times in this blog (look them up, they’re good). It’s like trying to rebuild scar tissue on a deep wound; it takes a while, and it hurts, A LOT. I guess it’s weird to me because I feel like I’m failing at life right now, and people see hope for me, where I have trouble seeing any at all.
My passions, my dreams… That stuff doesn’t go away. I still want more than anything in this world to be a filmmaker of a high caliber, but I’m now realizing that may take a lot longer than I had wanted, or anticipated. Maybe my dreams are so big, and the universe needs to catch up. But right now, I’m doing nothing. I guess that IN ITSELF is emotional work because of one thing: thought. Thinking about the constants, the projections, the errors made, the good things versus the bad, the past, the present, the future… Oblivion. Drives a mind mad just trying to comprehend it all, and I’ve gone three times over, enough for a few lifetimes other than my own.
My deepest insecurity, however, is petty. I want people to like me. That’s it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, and all I ever want. That comes from years of emotional abuse by my father, who made me hate myself. It is hard to believe sometimes that people are even capable of liking someone like me, that I have redeeming qualities that people find endearing. A lot of them don’t tell me they like me, or that they care. I get that. Some don’t know me well enough. I get that too. Other times, it’s that I care too much about what they think. I want people to like me. It’s easy to admit because it’s true, sad, and petty as that is. I’m sure a lot of people have felt like this, or feel like this.
But for me, for the first time in my life, I am truly without a rudder, more so than ever. I was not properly prepared for adulthood, and I still have the propensity of a child, albeit, maybe a more mature child. I have trouble taking care of myself, and figuring out what to do. I lack structure, which is something I had, even in the darkness moments of youth, ironically enough, causing some comfort in the pain. Recently, I suffered a panic attack. It occurred around the same time as the one last year. It is difficult to put into words how great my fear of moving forward has gotten. I fear the unknown because I don’t want to fail, but if I don’t do SOMETHING, I will almost certainly fail. The fear feeds into itself like a viscous, rattling torrent in my brain, a wart upon my consciousness, unable to be burnt off with tradition means.
I’m starting to fade now… My bed is calling my name.
I feel like shit, no lie, but that hasn’t stopped me from doing the emotional work that needs to be done. If I cannot conquer this, I will never be able to conquer the world one day as I wish.
As always, life is complicated.