Tuesday,
December 2, 2008 at 4:35pm
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-aide 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 revulsion 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.
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 revulsion 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.
