I’ve been really into graphics lately. Here’s a mood chart. Feel free to print it out to make it a magnet or something!
JUNGIAN THEORY IN PERSONALITY ASSESSMENTS
On the Myers-Briggs Type Indicators (MBTI), I scored ENFJ. (Note: Since, I score an INFJ, because of medication changes.) ENFJ personality breaks down into traits that are extroverted, intuition, feeling, and judging. Mostly, I would agree with this assessment of my personality. However, I feel it is a limited, as many others have criticized. Jung asserts that extraverts project their energies outward to others and their environment and characterizes these people as sociable. I feel I embody this description to a point. I would be more inclined to believe that it is a better measure of sociability. I disagree that personality type is affected by heredity, seeing as how neither one of my parents is ENFJ, and only my father scored as an extravert. In addition, I don’t agree that personality is static throughout an entire lifetime. Jung’s personality theory neglects attention to childhood development and major events affecting adult development. I feel that I am very intuitive, however, I once again don’t feel as if I completely fit the description. While I am apt to “tune in” to others and have a certain innate understanding of situations as well as their outcomes, I don’t feel as if I’m focused on the “big picture”. Family, friends, and co-workers can attest to my attention to detail and highly cultivated level of organization. The assessment of feeling is given when people are thought to place value on things that create a positive emotional response. This is opposed to utilizing logic for decision making. I feel that is a very hedonistic evaluation. We all, as humans, are subject to hedonism according to Freud’s Hedonic Hypothesis. By this logic, that would place all humans into the feeling category. Instead, Planap and Fitness proposed that said traits function together. Therefore, I am able to embody both empathy and logic. Another problem with this assessment is the obvious gender bias. Jung personally though that women typically score “feeling” and men score “thinking”. This can even be seen in my marriage. My husband and I are fundamentally the same, hence the original attraction. However, on the MBTI, he scored ENTJ. The only difference between my husband and myself is the way that we process emotions. Perhaps this scale measures empathy and expression of emotions better than it’s original intention. (Judging)
The MBTI is the most recognized and frequently employed assessment when “measuring Jungian functions”. (pg 88 review citation) Essentially, the MBTI is based on Jungian personality theory and hardly differs. It incorporates the eight basic personality types in Jungian theory. These psychetypes combine extroversion and introversion with thinking or feeling and intuition or sensation in pairs of two. The MBTI expands upon Jungian personality theory by identifying a fourth trait which functions as a person’s conscious interaction with the external world. This trait works differently for extraverts and introverts. In extraverts, the fourth trait is the dominant function and contrastingly introverts utilize it as an auxiliary function. For example, one assessing a MBTI result can combine extroverted with either judging or thinking as how they interact with their environment. The other functions are introverted and therefore how they deal with themselves. For introverts, it is the reverse. By allowing a fourth trait, the MBTI provides a more comprehensive analysis with sixteen types instead of the eight in Jungian typology.
MBTI has a high degree of reliability and validity; it is objective and free of interpretation by the administrator. The Inkblot exam is purely subjective, and also, subject to the subjective interpretation of the administrator. MBTI measures the types of individuals, while the Inkblot exam measures individual traits of individuals. It seems that each time an individual takes the MBTI they score the same or close to the same as the time before; however, an individual may not picture the same things he once saw in an inkblot revealing that the inkblot has a low test-retest reliability. In the case of the Inkblot exam, it would mean that individual personalities are constantly subject to change. While personality is subject to revision, it is not subject to total change. The inherent, learned traits that an individual has will remain with them, despite certain revisions. Each exam, however, provides valuable information about the individual’s personality and therefore a tool in evaluating a client.
This information is essential in a therapeutic setting. Each assessment has a purpose. MBTI is excellent for getting a feel for the patient and understanding their basic personality. It is also been proven as an excellent tool for career placement. It has advantages for the patient as well. As the patient gains a better understanding of themselves, they will also be able to understand their emotions, thoughts, and motives. This way, they can learn how to cope and self-regulate. Inkblot and other projective tests provide a look into the subconscious. This may reveal repressed emotions and impulses. Once these are brought to light, the patient can then begin mitigating them and expressing them in healthy ways. Personality disruption and abnormal behavior and development can then be resolved, resulting in a balancing affect and creating a more whole personality. Therefore, these assessments, combined with psychotherapy can resolve conflict, establish healthy coping mechanisms, and reunify a person to promote functionality.
Kaplan. (2008). Past and Present Views on Personality. Boston: Pearson Custom Publishing.
Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. (n.d.). Retrieved September 15, 2009, from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myers-Briggs_Type_Indicator
Phanalp, S., & Fitness, J. (n.d.). Thinking/Feeling about Social and Personal Relationships — Planalp and Fitness 16 (6): 731 — Journal of Social and Personal Relationships. Retrieved September 15, 2009, from http://spr.sagepub.com/cgi/content/abstract/16/6/731
- The Relationship Between Personality Type and Software Usability Using the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) and the Software Usability Measurement Inventory (SUMI) (udini.proquest.com)
- An Introvert’s Thoughts on Being A Professional Speaker and Consultant (insidehighered.com)
- OPPOSITES ATTRACT by Renee Baron Applies the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator to Improving Intimate Relationships (prweb.com)
- Truth in Humor: The MBTI Grid…Askew (lindaloolookingahead.wordpress.com)
- What Do Your Social Networking Habits Say About Your Personality? [Infographic] (socialtimes.com)
I am infamous for making pop culture references. For those of you that don’t get the reference, I’ll break it down for you. It comes from a scene in the move I’ll Do Anything (written by James L. Brooks, who does The Simpsons now), where the little girl, Jeannie and her estranged father are on an airplane. Jeannie tells her father that she wants to wear her yellow dress. He attempts to calmly explain to her that it’s in the luggage that’s under the plane. Then, Jeannie starts throwing this epic temper tantrum, screaming and crying repeatedly, “I want my yellow dress!”
Just to cause a bigger scene, Jeannie slaps herself to make it sound like her father did it.
There’s a point, I promise. Today, my horoscope said this:
Here is your Daily Horoscope for Thursday, October 4
Your inner child is dominant today, so make the most of it and have fun! You should be able to get others energized and find new ways to do almost anything. If you’ve actually got kids, so much the better!
My immediate response? What inner child?
I don’t feel childlike, in any respect. I take absolutely no pleasure in children’s games or activities. I often find it difficult to have a conversation with a child. Not to say that I am unable to enjoy their company. I am at a loss for what children like to do.
I have always done pretty adult activities, with the exception of playing with dolls, but even that was pretending to take care of a house, a husband, and a child. I am drawn to solitary activities. I write. I doodle. I read. I craft, and have been called grandma as a result. These have been the constants in my life.
That’s when I realized it. I am childlike in a different way. I throw temper tantrums. I have obsessive wants and abandonment issues. I have a desperate need for approval. I fear authority figures, and I often find that I feel helpless. This is helpless over my own behavior and helpless to fulfill my own wants and needs. I am rebellious and conflicted.
My inner child is not very healthy.
I have had a retrospect of my childhood recently and came to several conclusions.
- I grew up too fast.
It didn’t start out as something I wanted to do. I started out as something I needed to do. As a sibling of autism, you are taught that you have to be adult about a lot of situations. That means, when you have feelings of neglect and resentment, you have to repress them. It’s the adult thing to do.I had a serious misconception. At the time of adolescence, I made the decision to take on the freedom of an adult, since I had carried the burden of responsibility of an adult in childhood. Perhaps it was due to bodily changes, or just coming-of-age. Either way, I made some irresponsible choices to participate in grown-up activities in adult situations way too soon.
- I was an overachiever.
Achievement leaves little room for childlike activities. It requires self-discipline the likes of which no ordinary kid could offer to themselves. I practiced my music alone. I became second chair, next to a girl who had lessons. I became a second part section leader at the age of eleven. I joined library club, just to put books away and spend my free time reading classic literature far above my head.I didn’t play sports. I loathed gym and feared recess. Most of the time, I would sit on the bleachers alone, staring into the vastness of the parking lot. And there wasn’t a soul who was interested in having me join their game.
- I was a sensitive child who needed to grow thicker skin.
My preschool teacher was the first person to bring this to my mother’s attention. What little girl doesn’t cry at the age of four? What parent seems to think that crying is unhealthy? Well, it was the 80’s after all.By the time I was in second grade, I started to develop panic attacks. They landed me in the nurses office frequently, and I was deemed a hypochondriac at that time.
Fourth grade was when I had the toughest teacher of them all. I read her comment on the report card before my mother even had the chance. “Does not take constructive criticism.” After I work my little rear off, she has the gall to say that?! Yes, I was discouraged that I wasn’t perfect at everything. Maybe a little reassurance, you know?
My inner child seems to still be pretty angry about all of this stuff.
I get it, now. I have spent a great deal of time and energy into satisfying the immediate demands of my inner child. Or, on the opposite end, I have been denying my inner child completely. I have really done nothing to nurture and attend to this internal being.
How do I go about doing that?
Astrology suggests looking at my Moon sign to determine the kind of soul food that I need. However, it seems that, while astrology may have a clue as to where my interests lie, psychology appears to have a better grasp on the nature of the inner child.
Livestrong.com has a list of suggestions. Here are the ones I like the best:
What nurturing messages can you give your “inner child”?
You can tell your “inner child” that it is OK to:
* Have the freedom to make choices for itself.
* Be “selfish” and do the things you want to do.
* Take the time to do the things you want to do.
* Associate only with the people you want to associate with.
* Accept some people and to reject others.
* Give and accept love from others.
* Allow someone else to care for you.
* Enjoy the fruits of your labor with no guilt feelings.
* Take time to play and have fun each day.
* Not to be so serious, intense and inflexible about life.
* Set limits on how you are going to relate to others.
* Not always “serve” others.
* Accept others “serving” you.
* Be in charge of your life and not let others dictate to you.
* Be honest with others about your thoughts and feelings.
* Take risks and to suffer the positive or negative consequences of such risks.
* Make mistakes, laugh at them and carry on.
* Let your imagination and creativity be set free and to soar with the eagles.
* Cry, hurt and to be in pain as long as you share your feelings; do not repress or suppress them.
* Be angry, to express your anger and to bring your anger to some resolution.
* Make decisions for yourself.
* Be a problem solver and come up with solutions with which everyone may not agree.
* Feel happiness, joy, excitement, pleasure and excitement about living.
* Feel down, blue, sad, anxious, upset and worried, as long as you share your feelings.
* Love and be loved by someone whom you cherish.
* Be your “inner child” and to let it grow up, accept love, share feelings and enjoy pleasure and play.
Writing your Pleasure List
1. Take a clean sheet of paper and head somewhere you feel safe and relaxed.
2. Divide the paper into four sections:
– Section 01: People and Pets (who bring me pleasure when I think of them)
– Section 02: Places (that bring me pleasure when I think of them)
– Section 03: Things (that bring me pleasure when I think of them)
– Section 04: Things I like to do (that bring me pleasure)
3. Then write as many examples as you can under each section.
4. Remember to allow yourself to feel happy!
Section 01: People and Pets
- Xan, my husband.
- Beast, my son
- Dill, my friend
- Zen, my cat that passed on last year
- Rees, my friend.
- Ruby, my friend
- Carla, my friend
- Monday, my friend
- My MIL
- My FIL
Section 02: Places
- Myrtle Beach, South Carolina: It is absolutely, hands down, my favorite vacation spot. The beaches are huge and sandy. The local, southern food is amazing, and the local people are very friendly. I have some of my most fond memories there. When I was sixteen, it was my first taste of freedom. It was the only town I was ever allowed to wander around in unsupervised. I was free to go wherever I wanted within a certain 15 block radius in either direction. For Myrtle Beach, that’s a lot of territory. I spent my honeymoon there with Xan. It was the first time I had ever gone on vacation as an adult. We just had the most lovely time, I recall. Good food, peaceful setting, and a lovely beach. I got to wake up every single morning to go out on the patio and watch the sunrise. It was magical.
- Virginia Beach, Virginia: I recall Virginia Beach having one of the most impressive boardwalks I had ever been on. Anything you could ever want was on that board walk. I was thirteen years old, and I’d sneak out to my very own balcony in the middle of the night just to watch the moon rise on the ocean. It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. It was fairly close by car, so I wasn’t stuck in the car forever with my parents. And, since I had my own room in our suite, I had a huge amount of privacy. It was the best vacation I can remember from my childhood.
- The Fountains in Pittsburgh: There’s something about those fountains. Pittsburgh has plenty of them, because we are so close to the river. There was one in particular that I loved, and I took a photo of it right before my surgical consultation the August before last. Something about it was calming, and settled me down to think about the beautiful things in life. I even wrote a post called, “All the Pretty Things”.
- The Trestle: By my old house, in the same neighborhood I grew up in, there was this old, abandoned railroad trestle. My best friend showed it to me when we were in our early teens. We used to hang out there to drink and smoke pot. Then, we’d have these deep conversations about our thoughts and feelings. Those were very intimate moments.When Beck, my ex, and I became secret lovers behind her back, we used to frequent the trestle. It was the place that I had my first kiss with a boy. And he and I would sit there for hours, holding each other, talking about our dreams, and making plans for our future together. And after Beck and I broke up, I didn’t go back again.
Until there was Xan, three years later. At the time, we were living with my ex, Avi. I felt a bond with Xan that I couldn’t quite explain. So, I took him there, so that we could be alone. We hung out and we drank. It was a beautiful alone place, even if it was a rusted trestle. You could see the creek below, and it was surrounded by trees, a rarity in that neighborhood.
It was the place where Xan and I spent our first night together as a couple. We sat up all night and talked. I don’t recall what about. The past. The present. Maybe even the future. I know we went through the story of our developing relationship, and how we got to this point. And I remember we held each other in the rain until the morning light.
Section 03: Things:
- My computer
- My Samsung Captivate Glide
- My stuffed animal from when I was a kid
- New clothes
- Overhead Lighting
- Bejeweled Blitz
- My blue coffee cup
- My brown skirt
- The Internet
- My blue blanket
- My journals
- Inkjoy pens
- G2 Gel Pens
- All no bleed Sharpies
- Office supplies
- My medication
- My contacts
Section 04: Things I like to do:
- Go for long car rides
- Eat at this little mom and pop diner a few towns over
- Get dressed up (sometimes)
- Take hot showers
- Visit my in-laws
- Take on a new project
- Write on WordPress
- Read on WordPress
- Do selfless acts
- Practice Tang Soo Do
- Play computer games
- Watch my favorite TV shows
- Create things
- Play with my son
- Spend time with my husband
“Pleasure is the only thing one should live for, nothing ages like happiness.”
~ Oscar Wilde ~
Accentuate the positives
The first exercise toward building better self-esteem is to focus on the positives. Now, I’m not a convert into the positive thinking movement, in fact I find books that proclaim all we need to do is think positively and everything we want will magically appear out of thin air complete crap. I don’t believe someone can ‘pretend away depression’ nor do I believe thinking positively will cure you of cancer or the myriad of other illnesses that people suffer from.
However, thinking positive thoughts about ourselves can bring about an attitude change toward better self-perception.
Once upon a time I was in a counselling session. I had seen this counsellor for several sessions and in each one he noted how stressed and tense I was; how I sat in a…
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Day 13 : A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough days. (write a letter.)
Preface: In the liner notes of “Pretty Hate Machine“, the first studio album by Nine Inch Nails, there is a statement that says, “Nine Inch Nails is Trent Reznor.” Indeed, it is. This is why I address this letter as such, though I would like to include every person that ever had a hand in his projects. They were also important in making his music happen.
Dear Trent Reznor,
Yes, I am indeed very young to be following your career. I ask you to dismiss any immediate notions of some kid fan looking to “find a voice” or “find an image to latch on to”. Fifteen years ago, that may have appeared to be the case. However, I advised any who made the accusation that it wasn’t a phase, and in my age group, it certainly wasn’t a fad. The music spoke to me, and I took a lot of shit to pride myself as a fan in my peer group. It wasn’t about a popular song, attraction, lifestyle, or any of that bullshit nonsense. It was the lyrics and the music, not the man or the movement.
I sincerely doubt that you will ever personally read this letter. It’s not a matter of dismissal, or anything of the like. I realize the intense focus, schedule, and deadlines that must accompany such incredible success. However, I’d like to assure you this isn’t one of those stalker letters, but only a fan tribute. And, of course, an exercise of prompt response to a blog project. If it wasn’t for this prompt, I may have never written this at all. That is, despite the fact that there is much in my personal life that I can attribute to the music.
Today, I am a part-time music teacher at a local inner city youth program here in Pittsburgh, PA. I am aware that you are local to the area, which is another reason the music is personal to me. You grew up in the area, therefore you were aware of the lifestyle and culture of the region and how it affects a person. But, that wasn’t the only personal connection. In the seventh grade, though music had been a lifelong passion, I became symptomatic with a mood disorder. A deep depression was ravaging through my life, taking each passion away from me. It took one man, my band instructor Warren Sullivan, to convince me otherwise.
One day, he took the class to the Piano Graveyard, a hallway behind the auditorium where old, detuned and broken pianos went to die. He wanted us to experiment with sound, though most of us had never touched a piano in our lives. I sat at a piano bench, disinterested in just about everything, including that exercise. Others plucked at sour keys, and some just pounded the pianos in the effort to make as much noise as possible. Mr. Sullivan sat down beside me, clearly as downtrodden as I was. I looked up at him and noticed this awful look of defeat and resignation.
We didn’t speak for a few moments, just poked at keys together. And this was the first time a teacher had addressed me personally, as an equal. He said, “Have you ever had anything really bad happen to you?” I nodded. He asked, “So bad that it changed your entire life?” Again, I nodded. He told me a story, a secret as to why he would be unlikely to return the following year. I liked the guy, and it was difficult to swallow.
And he said to me, “Did you know that I knew Trent?”
It took me aback. “Really?”
“Yeah, we were in a college band together,” he replied.
“So, what happened?” I eagerly inquired.
Mr. Sullivan look uncomfortable for a moment, but continued timidly, “We had creative differences.”
I noted, “I could see that.”
We were quiet again for a moment, and he admitted, “Do you know what the last thing I ever said to Trent was?”
“Trent Reznor, you will never amount to anything!” He paused, then continued, “I guess I was mistaken. And that’s something I live with every time I hit a bad spot in my career.”
“Wow,” I breathed. It was really powerful. But, it taught me a valuable lesson. Go with what feels right and where my heart takes me. Never try to take anyone else down to get a leg up. And, it kept me in band, even with the terror of a director that took over. I withstood her for five years and five more instruments, just so I could get as much music under my belt as possible. I was inspired to move to tenor sax, which opened up the door to all woodwinds. Today, I have an alto on my wall, only because I can’t find a reasonably priced tenor sax. Imagine me, all of 4’11″ with a tenor sax strapped to my neck. The thing went down to my knees! It was worth it.
Anyhow, returning to the music itself. I started off with the album “The Downward Spiral”, which could not have been more appropriate for the life changes I was going through. To this day, I have owned four physical copies, because I would wear them out so badly, and one digital copy, all legal. It was at that point in my life that I became symptomatic with Bipolar Disorder. “The Downward Spiral” was my mainstay. I knew in my bones that I was different somehow, and that the deep depressions were abnormal for a young adolescent. But, the album in it’s entirety showed that what I was going through, particularly the self-loathing, suicidal ideation, self-injury, questions of faith and religion, disdain and disillusionment with the world, and dysfunctional relationships were not uncommon events. I had figured that if these things were inspiration for an adult, why couldn’t they be my inspiration, with the music being my solace.
As I grew into adulthood, the music came with me. “Pretty Hate Machine” and “Broken” lent me music that resonated with me. In a way, these albums aided me in support of developing my identity apart from parental and societal expectations. I realized that I wasn’t like the others, and I could never be. Instead of fretting about it, and making futile attempts to conform, I fought for the freedom of expression.
The music and lyrics tapped at something deep inside myself. It found the part of me that conflicted and the dissonance touched. It found the fundamental contradictions that created so much confusion and made it flow. I identify with the complex and unique chord structures. They are beautiful, yet eerie, and have so much tension in them. My ear can identify them in music I wasn’t aware that you had a hand in, not because of the musical familiarity, but because of the way it touches me.
I could go on identifying each album, with various songs that have colored my life. But, I find it unnecessary. The message is this. Each album contained a number of songs that had personal meaning. Most were very fitting for the time period of my life, whether it was touching upon symptoms of my progressing disorder, dysfunctional and abusive relationships, general discord with life, or absolute disgust with society and the people that run it. And in those songs, I found the music and lyrics to tell me the most important thing I needed to know in my life. I am not alone.
So, today, I share my passion for music with kids, and help them find their sound. I do that as part of my passion, and as my day job. As a person who suffers from mood disorder, you could probably appreciate the following. I spend most of my time putting the same message out there through creative mediums. If you are suffering, you are not doing it alone. I know how you feel. I was granted the gift of music and writing to share my story and give a certain gift of companionship to those in need. And, I feel as if you had a hand in aiding that.
I am still a fan and a listener. I am greatly enjoying the long rumored, “How to Destroy Angels” project. I appreciate how the music was able to evolve with me. Or, it’s possible that I was just able to put it into a different context. Either way, I am grateful to have had such an inspiration and support in my life. Many thanks for following your passion, and not letting Warren take you down.
All the Best,
I don’t know about some of you guys, but I’ve been coming up short in the writing arena lately. Not because I don’t have anything to complain about (I don’t), but the Abilify is making my head unusually empty. So, I’d like to toss around a game of tag! Enjoy!
Write ten facts about yourself, all true, and then pass it on to ten people.
- I don’t like red meat. I really don’t. I am not a big fan of meat in general. Except cheeseburgers. I love cheeseburgers. They are my downfall every time I attempt vegetarianism.
- I sleep in my contacts. I’m so vain. No, just kidding. I just really love waking up and not fishing for a pair of glasses. There’s something beautiful about waking up and being able to see the world without some plastic foreign object on your face.
- I live in Pittsburgh. For those of you that might not know, I live in the City of Champions. Most livable city in the US. Six Superbowl Rings. Four Stanley Cups (that I know of). Jaywalking is a birthright. The most disgusting rivers you will ever see, all three of them. So bad that Bruce Willis said he will never, ever go in them again. Most cloudy days of any major US city. And more sets of stairs than San Francisco, believe that or not. This city is the best.
- I was not born in Pittsburgh. Unlike the rest of the natives, I was not born at Magee Women’s Hospital. I wasn’t even born in this city. I was actually born in a little town outside of Atlanta, GA. I was raised there for several years and then hauled to Pittsburgh.
- I occasionally have a southern accent. If I am drunk enough, surrounded by southerners, or actually in the south, I will slip into a southern accent. The more time I spend in the south, the harder it is for me to get rid of. I went down for a week for my honeymoon, and couldn’t get rid of it for three weeks, much to my husband’s disgust. He’s one to talk; he has a mix of a Pittsburgh accent and a Brooklyn accent.
- I speak three languages. Good English. Bad English. And Pittsburghese. Look it up, it’s a real thing.
- I play more than one instruments. I play most instruments in the woodwind family, and some in the percussion family. I do not play any strings or brass. It’s just not in me.
- My hair is naturally blonde. Just not as blonde as I dye it!
- My son has Autism Spectrum Disorder. I know I don’t talk about it often, but my son was diagnosed with Pervasive Development Disorder – Not Otherwise Specified in May 2011. My brother has classical autism, so it was a hard diagnosis to take in. I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Not again, God, I can’t handle this my whole life.” The good news is that he’s coming along just fine, though he’s still delayed.
- I am on five psychiatric medications. Lamictal, Abilify, Xanax, Wellbutrin, and Temazepam. I hear that’s actually pretty tame in comparison.
Now, here’s the tagging. If you come upon this, then TAG, YOU’RE IT! I mean, if you really want. I’m just not going out of my way to tag others today.
I find that I’m sifting through every corner and combing every shelf. Typically, this is how the search for my marbles goes. I have a bulging pouch, a testament to my . . . (I cannot find the word. This is aphasia at it’s finest.) To my bounty of sanity that I contain. No, instead, I am frantically . . . hunting for my inspiration.
Is this dry spell the direct result of my lack of “a certain something”? Certainly. Am I what I would consider sane and stable? Certainly not. I am muted and docile. No gusto. No fire.
No original thoughts of my own, apparently.
There is a certain amount of pressure mounting the a point of bursting. Unfortunately, I cannot seem to even see my own hand in front of my face. That is how lacking in vision and perspective I am. I am unaware if this . . . tension is a dam walling the roaring waters of content. Silently, I pray it is.
Instead, I feel this tightness in my psyche so strongly it becomes somatic. What lies beneath, within? What could possibly be of such importance that it has created a friction that produces no heat? In all honesty, what could I possibly say about anything? There is a complete absence of thought. It has all become a runny stew, too brothy to hold the meat and potatoes intact.
Brain Goop Soup.
. . .
And more nothingness. Annoyingly silent, echos of almost, faintly mocking me in nondescript whispers.
. . .
I suppose that sometimes, a disconnect develops. This disconnect . . . well, it is just as indescribable and inexplicable as the nonsense prior. I find the disjointed nature of these thoughts to be the severing of one underdeveloped conscious thought to the next. Reality has become too real, and I have become evicted from my own headspace. Expelled into the real world, where time is near frozen. Days are detached entities, and moments have no . . . a lack of continuity.
I have found that this is the polar opposite of psychosis. This is the state of antipsychosis, where reality is overly dominant, and abstract thought . . . is a concept in which I have to make a concerted effort. Never before in my life have I been so uninspired, so dried up. My home was in my head, a comfy nest in which I resided. Where do I make a home in reality?
My bullshit radar is going off.
I find the discovery that instead of tapping into something original, I am going through the motions.
I am needy.
Extroversion has become a monster that requires feeding. I cannot find the willpower to stop myself from desperately searching outside myself for intellectual stimulation, self-affirmation, and creativity. I do so with the intent to stir my own soup, but I instead crumple that little page of notebook in my mind and immediately discard. Irrelevant, my brain determines. It does not sustain my basic needs. It is superfluous.
Just pet me and tell me that I’m wonderful.
Not because I need the validation. I have enough evidence to convince myself of that truth. (Mania, maybe?) It just feels nice to be acknowledged in the real world. Because in the real world, I feel as if I am a wandering, translucent ghost. Are you listening? Can you see me? Do my words count for anything?
Is there something wrong?
Is the theory of antipsychosis actually a manifestation of psychosis? Are my ideas of eviction from my brain, but an absence of presence in reality a problem? It is not distressing. Okay, I find a tiny drop of distress, only at the idea that I may never have another unique idea again. That this blankness, this . . . blockage will be my doomed fate.
Is my intense desire to be thought of actually neediness? It is a tad distressing. It is watered down. I can live with it. I find extreme boredom in everything. Worse, I find myself to be the most boring of all. I have not once before experience such severe boredom.
How do I reach out and make a connection when I have nothing funny, witty, inspiring, or provocative to say?