Response to: Cruel optimism (and lazy pessimism)
This is the post I’m inspired by: https://tegowerk.eu/posts/cruel-optimism
In the last few days, I’ve been very optimistic. Not because of any specific thing, but because I’ve felt heard, and people care about me. It’s weird how small things make a huge difference. After my breakup with my ex, I descended into a lonely abyss.
My parents were willing to help me out with things. But I already had things. My problem wasn’t that I lacked physical comforts. My problem was loneliness. And almost nobody wanted to talk to me. And when they did, they often regretted it because I was so bitter and in my own head.
Over time, I slowly made steps to reach out and make some friends. It was tricky because I thought I already had some friends. I thought I was just an introvert who didn’t need that much social interaction. But after my breakup, I realized that feeling connected was foundational. And I simultaneously felt completely unworthy of love, while simultaneously not believing in it, and also not knowing why people would reject me when I clearly had useful and valuable skills that could make the world a better place. What was it? Why was everyone in my life so quick to lose hope in me?
Over time my money dwindled, and my social connections increased. I stopped feeling as groundless and empty. I learned to trust my gut. I found people I could be honest with. I found mentors.
I’m not nearly as lonely anymore. But now I also have no money. And my parents who supported me for the last few years want to yank my support, but are happy to talk to me. I feel a little betrayed, but not surprised. They’re behaving in a very human way. When someone is nothing but bad vibes and isolated, we try to treat them with more isolation. When someone has money and doesn’t need more, we try to help them by giving them more. It’s honestly a little fucked. I know I’m guilty of this myself.
There’s plenty of advice on how to improve your mood by exercising, etc. Yes, but if the fire isn’t there, it’s hard to keep it up. So maybe look upstream, and don’t be afraid to keep going until it all starts making sense again. One of the worst failure modes I’ve seen is when people pick an idea, commit to it, and start to believe they can no longer be fooled because they’ve now found the Truth, whether it be the King James Bible translation, some denomination, etc.
But Truth often comes out in the fleshiest and most mundane ways. Truth is a car accident that makes you rethink things. Truth is the person who cuts themselves. On some level, they’re proving to themselves that it’s not the physical that they want. It’s something intangible, and they’re looking to see who will hear them. Existential pain is far more intolerable than anything physical.
When you feel you matter, when you’re wanted, appreciated, and you’ve found your niche. That’s Truth, or at least on the way there.
When I had more money, I was in a bind. It gripped me. I not only had cash I didn’t know what to do with, I also had motivation that was burned uselessly. Was there something wrong with me? My environment? If I have money, am I allowed to feel depressed? Shouldn’t I be grateful? And if I can’t find a girlfriend, or a wife, what then? And when I can, and something doesn’t feel right, should I “try” harder? And yet, my efforts usually went nowhere. Effort had an ironic effect.
The harder I worked, the harder I was worked. The more money I made, the more I could make. Great. Now what? Where can I cash out all this funny money (real dollar bills) and make some friends, find love, find community, etc? That’s what I really wanted, and I was ashamed of wanting such basic things. I thought I was broken. I thought maybe I should try picking up my gym routine again.
I was so afraid of making a wrong move, disappointing my parents, etc. But the ultimate wrong move was that I didn’t trust the part of me that I couldn’t put into words.
In hindsight, a lot of my bizarre behaviors make a lot more sense. I didn’t take care of myself not because I wanted someone to slavishly bow to my every whim, but to connect, and spend time with someone. But it’s embarrassing to admit this to myself. And so even when I did take myself to the doctor, etc, I wanted to show that I was independent and I wasn’t truly needing anything.
Ironically, some of the best and most helpful people to me were those who’ve had psychotic breaks, or had gone through heaps of seemingly inexplicable depression. These are the people I’ve connected with. The old me would have tossed these people aside. And this is exactly why I was also so deathly afraid of rejection. We judge each other by our company—to our own detriment. I thought I cared about how things looked, and how well dressed someone was. Nope. Turns out I don’t care. What matters is whether you can connect with them, and if you’re moving toward goodness and truth.
Another thing that really gnawed at me is that when I was alone, I would start to ruminate. I would wonder if something really was wrong with me. And sometimes I would wonder if the world was broken in some way and it was just an especially evident example of it. And I knew the world could go crazy. It happened before.
I would have bouts of solipsism and selfishness. I would greedily want things to be a certain way. But I also wanted to be helpful and useful. I wasn’t able to let things go. Was I too controlling? But what about all the times I thought X was better and it really ended up that way? Surely I can’t be totally useless. In fact, I think I can be very useful.
I’m writing this now because things only started to click into place for me in the last couple weeks. I don’t have a job. On paper, everything is worse than it’s ever been. Inside my heart, something feels good, right, and True.