I've been thinking much about free will
and the nature of choice. In all reality, my life isn't the least
stressful and my general cheery(ha) demeanor is my attempt at staving
off breaking down or snapping. I'd bet you know what it's like to
have a problem, then two, then ten so on so forth. I'm trying to just
write them down and devise a strategy for taking them on one by one.
It isn't even the problems in and of themselves that really gets to
me. What bothers me is the circumstances that led to them. Not just a
bad decision here or there, but the nature of our decisions and why
and how we make them. As often as I say I feel free, I'm not sure
that is the case. I don't mind being constrained by things like food
or the inability to flap my arms and fly. Aside from that, it feels
like everything that can be done or said is restrained. Do you have a
choice in the classes you take, or is there a set list that others
have deemed good enough for you? Can you pick up and drive wherever
you want or are there parking restrictions, rules of the road,
components of the car that are inadequate that slow you down or
distract you from the wind in your hair? The only thing that I've
seemed to settle on that could break through this is money. Even when
I want to throw a party and just hang out and enjoy time with
friends, I still have to think about potential cops coming, noise
violations, angry neighbors, Kool-aid spills, or someone puking over
the balcony, all of which bring added stress and steps to the process
of escaping.
When your angry you can't always hit
the person you want. When your sick or depressed you can't even find
time to yourself when you want. Right now I feel strangled by an
idiot roommate, stupid classes, money for bills, responsibility to my
dad, and lack of information I wish I had to make my plans come to
fruition. I don't have a choice but to dig in and wait shit out. I
don't have a choice but to follow every rule and regulation that
keeps me in line and subdued. And quite honestly, I want to lash out
like a mother fucker, but I can only see it leading to even more
constriction and more drama. I've been relying on what I'd like to
think is a strong enough will to quell stomach revulsions and
snapping. I'm trying to keep the perspective of just being one of
millions with more or less handleable problems. When it comes down to
it though, it's still my life and my reality. I'm a spec on a spec
getting ever smaller, and that fact should be humbling enough to make
me not worry. Despite this, I'm not longer finding solace in my
relationship with myself.
Sitting here in psyche as she tells us
about our biology and what it means for anxiety disorders and
maladaptive traits seems to add fuel to the fire. The thought that I
might not be in control is frankly unacceptable. I don't believe in
fate, even if there is no such thing as free will. I think there are
suffering wills, broken wills, empty wills, but what good is a free
will? The kind of freedom implies all the bad with the good. Free to
contradict, lie, and pretend. There needs to be a wall between that
potential for freedom. That wall, at least for me at this point, is
constrained by all the wrong things. I want to be restricted by the
potential for expression. All that's happening now is the slow
tacking on process of "things I have to do." If "that's
life" then life is pathetic. I would not want to live if I
didn't have a (meager) hope for a way out.
