It isn’t actually self-doubt or self-hatred, or laziness or lack of commitment or not knowing what one wants, or depression. It is longing. I long to:
– live somewhere I feel happy
– have an intellectually stimulating life
– be safe from torturers, not work with torture
– and therefore, be calm enough to really write.
Feeling starved and isolated, and being repeatedly hurt and not having strong enough protection against this, are my problems. How can I become the god with the resources to remedy them? I do not want to run.
Why have I not done better so far? Because of being constantly beaten up and abandoned in the old days. I should just say this and not argue with people who want to question or explore it, or help me decide whether or not it is actually fair to say this.
Why? Because if I say it I feel whole, and my mind clears, and I can get a realistic perspective on the things I want to do on a given day.
UPDATE: Really, it was just that I wanted to do my own scholarship and have my own money and resources. But everybody jumped on me: really I wanted to be this nice lady and lower division teacher. Really I wanted to live in the suburbs. Really I did not want a life, I wanted to suffer and then take vacations from suffering. But the truth is that I always wanted autonomy, independence, and intellectual life; I wanted to do my own scholarship and have my own resources.
One thought on “Longing”
Cf. struggles with my introjected mother ! ! !