Fulfillment. in Mental Health

I’ve spent my whole life looking for fulfillment outside of myself. This is a thing, that very sentence, that only just occurred to me in just the right way to be really significant.

Sometimes, when a thought comes to me in just the right way, at just the right moment, it’s almost as if I can actually feel my reality shifting around me. Kind of like… you know when you ride a roller coaster, that feeling at the drop, it’s sudden and startling and your stomach floats? It’s like that only… sideways. Like a physical thing I can feel, a jarring, startled, sideways… jerk. And everything just stops. I just stop. Just a bit ago, I was doing some light tidying of the kitchen counter and was about to make a cup of coffee, mindlessly going through domestic motions, and this thought hit me and I just stood there, motionless, for at least a solid minute.

I’ve always looked for happiness outside. I’ve always seen myself as happy-less. Incapable of generating happiness. I’ve looked for happiness in others, in jobs, in bars, in bed. I’ve found momentary bouts of happiness, but they were generally short-lived. Unsustainable.

I don’t know what my own idea of fun is. I have no clue. I almost never do something just for the fun of it. I always feel like my thoughts and actions need to have intention, purpose. Like I need to have intention and purpose. Maybe I have just always felt like I have to continually, constantly, prove myself to others, prove my worth and value. That… is not fun. Not at all. Why do I do that? Why have I always done that? Like my sole purpose in life was to prove my worth to someone else and earn happiness from them? Or something? What is that?

Most of the time I feel like I don’t even know who I am. I have no idea who to be, what to say, how to stand or sit or… human. My body feels foreign to me, like I don’t have complete control over it, like nothing is where it’s supposed to be or how it’s supposed to be or I just don’t fit in it. And I don’t know what to say or how to make conversation, I’m a terrible listener and eye contact is painful for me. I try to listen, I do. But sometimes my brain just refuses to process the signals my ears are sending and so voices just sound like noise to me. I’m easily distracted. Horribly forgetful. And anxious. All the time, anxious. Much less anxious than I used to be, but still, I am recognizing lately that the medication doesn’t seem to be stomping my anxiety down like it used to, and I’m pretty much at max dosage. (big sigh)

Kind of weird for a girl who has always sought fulfillment outside of herself, hm? All of this explains my general inability to form and maintain strong relationships with very many people, ever. Like, throughout my life, I’ve had a significant other and a very, very small circle of friends. Often, only one person I would consider a close friend, a strong relationship. I have always severely limited myself when it comes to… well… human contact. It makes me uncomfortable and awkward and so, when I find someone that doesn’t make me feel that way, I… I don’t know, attribute something to them that I shouldn’t and cling to them when I most definitely shouldn’t. It’s like I allow myself to be tricked into feeling some sort of fulfillment in another person when it really doesn’t exist there.

Because that’s the thing, right? Happiness and fulfillment don’t really reside outside of ourselves, do they? I mean, sure, there are people and things in life that boost those feelings, enhance them, supplement them. Or that’s how it’s supposed to work, I think, but doesn’t seem to work for me. I feel like I have no baseline of happiness and fulfillment, no foundation to build on. I don’t even know what those things would really feel like. I mean, currently and for the last 6 months or so, I’ve had the most incredible person in my life that I’ve ever known. He is most certainly a huge happy booster and he makes me feel valid and whole. He fulfills all of the things he is capable of fulfilling, which is, coincidentally, exactly as much as I would need were I fulfilled on my own behalf. If that makes sense.

I’m really struggling to overcome some things lately. Like the overwhelming idea that I’m annoying at any and all times. Just moments ago, I saw a thing on Facebook and thought, “Oh my gosh, he would think that’s cute.” But then I thought, immediately after, “No, no, that’s silly, don’t bother him with that.” This happens with all people. I see a thing and think of a person and want to share it but then I don’t because the anxiety kicks in and the thoughts that I’m just weird and annoying come and… Yeah.

And, like, the idea that I’m useless. That I serve no purpose. I don’t create anything, I have no real value, I’m not… I don’t know, I’m not doing enough or being enough or strong enough or smart enough or capable enough or talented enough. There are so many things I’ve always wanted to do that I’ve talked myself out of even trying because I think I’ll just fail or suck or whatever. I’m super critical of myself, far more critical of myself than probably anyone else ever has been or will be. And there have been some people in my life who were pretty damn critical of me. So now I’m wondering if any of my thoughts are actually my own or if they are just leftovers from shitty, critical people.

And, if they’re just leftovers, maybe I can throw them away now, because they’re moldy and they smell bad and they have no place here anymore.

And maybe, if I can allow myself to find an expressive outlet, an artistic outlet, for some of the ugly inside, if I can use art like I use words, as a way to purge myself of these things, just maybe I can find some happiness and fulfillment within. And then I can stop existing and start living.

Last updated September 20, 2019