Stress and the common man
So, after much wrangling (mostly internal, though if you've ever slept next to me in the same bed, you know I thrash about a lot during the night), I feel I've arrived at a place where I recognize the enemy within and call him by his name: stress. Stress, stress, stress, stress, stress. That's my biggest problem.
Except that the things that trigger stress inside me are more, shall we say, sensitive than most. Everything sets me off: things going well, things going badly, too little sex, too much sex, not enough food, not enough of the right food, too much bad food at the wrong times, spending too much time alone, spending too much time out, doing things, work, weekends, trying to fall asleep, actually sleeping...
Last night, I finally fell asleep at 3:30 am and woke up (after much interruption) at 7:50 am. I had nightmares as usual, in the midst of waking up every twenty minutes. Once I go back to sleep, the nightmares (not really horror shit..more like stress dreams) pick up where they left off. Like a mini-series on HBO, only not as interesting. It's bad because I feel really stressed and apprehensive going to bed and feel really tired and stressed and worried after I wake up. Not the best way to start your day, is it?
A lot of people think of me as calm and relatively composed, wry and settled. But it's all about being repressed, which I do very well. You could almost say it's my training. If I let myself go the way I do when I'm alone at night, work would call in the strait jacket crew. Recently, I realised that because I believe my work ethic isn't great if I'm comfortable, I'll subconsciously avoid eating or drinking or going to the bathroom if I have work to do. Without even realising it.
I'm sitting there in total discomfort, unable to recognize why I feel uncomfortable because I think I can't get anything done if I satisfy my physical needs: a glass of water, some soup for lunch or a trip to the bathroom. I mean, how fucking twisted and repressed is that? And when do I realise this? Six fucking weeks ago! I'm 34 years old and it takes me that long to realise this? What more don't I realise?
Things are going well for me, citizenship thing aside. Even that isn't a big deal, when you look at the big picture. And yet I can't sleep, get small panic attacks when I leave my apartment, hate my life, walk around with this simmering resentment toward the world and don't feel that I'm in control of anything. How am I going to feel when things start turning sour. How will I deal with shit then?
Hesse said: "Happiness is a how, not a what; a talent, not an object."
I am distinctly devoid of talent, it seems.