Introspection

I really am a quite incapable mess of a person. To think, I should have spent so many years formulating the "Broken Man" as my outwardly facing persona, and it became (or perhaps always was) an inevitable truth of self.

Earlier this afternoon, amid long and excruciating lulls in day-job work, I peered in on the work of others. Artistic work, and idle pursuits as curated and portrayed via the medium of social media. It is an interesting thing that I should realize my role models, those I most aspire to emulate and demonstrate anywhere near comparable skill to, are those many years younger. Partially, this ties into a freer sense of expression, less rigid and confined by developed rules and learned habits. In some cases it does not. Some exercise their art within the confinements of the same rule sets I've adopted with time, however I find myself envious of both their comfort with those paradigms and, especially, the enthusiasm with which they approach the creative process despite those defining technical factors.

Enthusiasm, tied into a general drive as aspiration. "The Muse". It's a core element I lack, the last piece of this great puzzle so soggy, bloated and misshapen, it may never really fit into place for me. My ultimate failure, ultimate undoing.

This especially came to light this weekend. Saturday, I had a litany of mundane tasks, domestic items of self-care, and the struggle to achieve them was enormous despite no clear or concrete rationale as to why. As if I simply lacked the strength of spirit to accomplish basic tasks like "Get a haircut" and "Make an appointment to get new glasses". This sort of thing is most often attributed to laziness, and as it pertains to my own situation I am inclined to label it as such, but realistically I find it difficult to accept as a facet of simple laziness. I struggle to function in the most basic of ways, reliant upon peer pressure and guilt to inspire enough strength to muddle through to completion. Despite being well aware of long-term consequences, the value of simply getting it done now and not worrying about it in the future. I would excuse that wall as being a symptom of feeling impeded in some other area of Maslow's Heirarchy, but how can that ever make sense if my sense of impediment is of an upper tier whereas these are very low-order needs I'm struggling to satisfy?

There is plenty of meme material coursing the internet regarding those with debilitating anxiety issues. One more recently resonated with me, something general espousing the idea that, in the case of one with high-functioning anxiety, the energy invested in maintaining the facade of being "Okay" consequently withdraws from reserves otherwise available to actually feel "Okay". For a variety of reasons, justified or not... My facade is nigh flawless to the casual observer. Only in the last year have I opened myself to letting others beyond the veil, but time restricted to choice individuals permitting my guard to drop is hardly ample to strike a balance in this nightmare equation of energies. And, be it a habitual behavior learned in early life or a genuine inherent affection, I surround myself with other broken people, those I can approach (inwardly) as true peers, yet I most struggle with sympathizing outright and instead invest energy into a White Knight complex that more frequently fails for sake of exhaustion. I am not all-together myself, how could I possibly hope to be a solid foundation upon which others could dream to build a sound self-image?

It is painful to consider the achievements of which I'd be capable if simply I could unlearn this practiced face, this tax on my ability to comfortably exist. These younger for whom I hold such strong admiration seem to have this figured out well enough already. I wish I could learn it at all.