Struggling in College.
Posted: Thu Oct 11, 2012 11:23 pm
So, I read on a blog the other day that when you find yourself lost and deep in frustration, repeatedly asking yourself “why?” answering each time could be a potentially helpful exercise. So I guess I’ll try it out tonight because my outlook on life has certainly become victim to my seemingly perpetual frustrations. I’ve tried introspection many, MANY time before. Matter of fact, lately I cant escape introspection. So far it hasn’t been ultimately useless though; ive gotten some insight into how intricately and thoroughly psychotic I really am deep down (and how everyone around me can’t be too far off). Life just has a way of invading any comfort you’ve worked to establish, and wrecking it. Over the past few years, I’ve lost a great deal of motivation, am running low on hope, and even lower on religion.
Why: Everything seems mundane, relentless, and ultimately empty.
Why: Life has pained me for seemingly no reason. My whole life I have strove to be a good person in every way possible. I’ve stayed out of trouble, respected women, achieved academically, behaved kindly with others, applied humility, helped others via volunteering and stuff, etc. Then all of a sudden, midway through college, spiritual pains appeared and wreaked havoc and confusion on my soul (mood swings, hypomania, depression and associated crap).
Why: Your guess is as good as mine. I hear that life is unfair; that’s just the way it is; deal with it. And initially, when my confidence was high and my spirits were strong, I tried dealing with it in false hopes of defeating the depressions and moving on to the next hurdle. I attempted burying the senseless sorrows that had begun to plague me with a plethora of things. When I felt like doing the exact opposite, I forced myself to be around others putting on the appearance of happiness while with them. I tried to expand who I was a person by exploring new creative activities like spoken word and stage performance. I started running distance like hell, mini-marathon after mini-marathon…I tried religion, Jesus Christ in particular.
I find it hard to say how that period of devotion left much to be desired because there’s always a chance that I’d be offending the Almighty. The issue I have with religion or any faith in particular is the guarantee of salvation or a better life that hinges on complete or total commitment for an undisclosed length of time (all of your remaining life to be exact). I know I know, what’s the point in partially believing in anything? Im just saying I really tried, and after a while, it really just felt like forcing an optimistic outlook on life in the name of an elusive divine character. I agree that practical truth and wisdom colors the majority of pages in religious texts, yet, much of the direction is idealistic to the point of self-denial. I can only criticize religion to a point because I do, in fact, believe in God and single truth. It is not his existence or nonexistence that puzzles me. It is his actual manifestation on earth that fuels my uncertainty. Im not saying I could do much better but this creation of his has a lot of problems that should spur anyone/everyone to think twice about the character of God. Frankly, I am mad at God right now, because somehow I have grown to hate the life he has given to me. I continue on not for myself, but pretty much out of a fear to die and from the awareness of others watching my life and expecting success out of it. I am tired I tell you, terribly tired.
Why: Because I lack what gives me joy, and am consumed by things that have worn down the tiny precious bits of humanity I had left. It utterly sickens me that my position in life prohibits me from complaint or dissatisfaction. I am a young, intelligent black male in school in an era where the statistics don’t really favor the (academic) success of my demographic. It is simply unbelievable that I’d be depressed in the position I am in. How could I be? I must be ungrateful, selfish, lazy, or dumb on a whole new level. No, the truth is I have always wanted what I lacked, a meaningful and rich social life. To be honest, I despise my intelligence because a large part of my social development was sacrificed for it. Now older, I’m a loner. And it is no secret that the essence of life lies in interaction, influence, inspiration, etc. Effective and meaningful communication or soul-deepening exchange is a MASSIVE part of what makes this life worth living. Through years of solitary study in combination with a natural inclination towards introversion, my intelligence has grown mute; I have developed into someone who has a lot on/in his mind, but very little to say. Give me an exam, and I’ll pass it sweatlessly. Afterward, look at my face, notice my monotone demeanor if you can peer past my contented facial front, and ask me how I did or how I feel? I’ll surely answer nonchalantly and unenthusiastically “eh, it’s just another test,” with the utter disdain of my scantron successes hidden well by a somewhat cool post-test carelessness. I don’t mind excelling academically. I don’t wish that was stupid. I do however wish that I knew how to be more naturally or casually expressive as a person. I wish that I knew how to turn off my perfectionist and analytical tendencies. I wish I didn’t have to try so hard to just relax and hang out. Among other people, it’s like this illusory visceral discomfort (i.e. anxiety) overwhelms me and fighting it renders me socially constipated and considerably awkward. It’s THE worst. Who cares about smarts when life can’t be enjoyed, only learned? It’s so frustrating.
And now, one of the only aspects of my being worth any practical value (my ability to manage information) is being jeopardized by the emotional turmoil I’ve found myself in. Its been a total shutdown lately. Getting up in the morning is the hardest part. It’s like waking up to another day of endless internal distress. Some days I don’t get up. I just sleep and sleep…and sleep to escape the forced exertion of the gigantic amount of energy it takes to maintain this life I hate. I don’t know who I can actually talk to because shrinks just don’t know and can’t truly understand, while family will surely worry and start to view me differently.
I’ve never been one to complain, but was always one to give whatever I had to help. I still give what I can, but I find that my capacity for charity or goodwill is being diminished by the struggle it takes to even get up and survive the day, which gets me even more down. I’m gradually becoming alone, listless, and useless. I hate it, but im exhausted with trying to find ways to escape or overcome it.
Why: Everything seems mundane, relentless, and ultimately empty.
Why: Life has pained me for seemingly no reason. My whole life I have strove to be a good person in every way possible. I’ve stayed out of trouble, respected women, achieved academically, behaved kindly with others, applied humility, helped others via volunteering and stuff, etc. Then all of a sudden, midway through college, spiritual pains appeared and wreaked havoc and confusion on my soul (mood swings, hypomania, depression and associated crap).
Why: Your guess is as good as mine. I hear that life is unfair; that’s just the way it is; deal with it. And initially, when my confidence was high and my spirits were strong, I tried dealing with it in false hopes of defeating the depressions and moving on to the next hurdle. I attempted burying the senseless sorrows that had begun to plague me with a plethora of things. When I felt like doing the exact opposite, I forced myself to be around others putting on the appearance of happiness while with them. I tried to expand who I was a person by exploring new creative activities like spoken word and stage performance. I started running distance like hell, mini-marathon after mini-marathon…I tried religion, Jesus Christ in particular.
I find it hard to say how that period of devotion left much to be desired because there’s always a chance that I’d be offending the Almighty. The issue I have with religion or any faith in particular is the guarantee of salvation or a better life that hinges on complete or total commitment for an undisclosed length of time (all of your remaining life to be exact). I know I know, what’s the point in partially believing in anything? Im just saying I really tried, and after a while, it really just felt like forcing an optimistic outlook on life in the name of an elusive divine character. I agree that practical truth and wisdom colors the majority of pages in religious texts, yet, much of the direction is idealistic to the point of self-denial. I can only criticize religion to a point because I do, in fact, believe in God and single truth. It is not his existence or nonexistence that puzzles me. It is his actual manifestation on earth that fuels my uncertainty. Im not saying I could do much better but this creation of his has a lot of problems that should spur anyone/everyone to think twice about the character of God. Frankly, I am mad at God right now, because somehow I have grown to hate the life he has given to me. I continue on not for myself, but pretty much out of a fear to die and from the awareness of others watching my life and expecting success out of it. I am tired I tell you, terribly tired.
Why: Because I lack what gives me joy, and am consumed by things that have worn down the tiny precious bits of humanity I had left. It utterly sickens me that my position in life prohibits me from complaint or dissatisfaction. I am a young, intelligent black male in school in an era where the statistics don’t really favor the (academic) success of my demographic. It is simply unbelievable that I’d be depressed in the position I am in. How could I be? I must be ungrateful, selfish, lazy, or dumb on a whole new level. No, the truth is I have always wanted what I lacked, a meaningful and rich social life. To be honest, I despise my intelligence because a large part of my social development was sacrificed for it. Now older, I’m a loner. And it is no secret that the essence of life lies in interaction, influence, inspiration, etc. Effective and meaningful communication or soul-deepening exchange is a MASSIVE part of what makes this life worth living. Through years of solitary study in combination with a natural inclination towards introversion, my intelligence has grown mute; I have developed into someone who has a lot on/in his mind, but very little to say. Give me an exam, and I’ll pass it sweatlessly. Afterward, look at my face, notice my monotone demeanor if you can peer past my contented facial front, and ask me how I did or how I feel? I’ll surely answer nonchalantly and unenthusiastically “eh, it’s just another test,” with the utter disdain of my scantron successes hidden well by a somewhat cool post-test carelessness. I don’t mind excelling academically. I don’t wish that was stupid. I do however wish that I knew how to be more naturally or casually expressive as a person. I wish that I knew how to turn off my perfectionist and analytical tendencies. I wish I didn’t have to try so hard to just relax and hang out. Among other people, it’s like this illusory visceral discomfort (i.e. anxiety) overwhelms me and fighting it renders me socially constipated and considerably awkward. It’s THE worst. Who cares about smarts when life can’t be enjoyed, only learned? It’s so frustrating.
And now, one of the only aspects of my being worth any practical value (my ability to manage information) is being jeopardized by the emotional turmoil I’ve found myself in. Its been a total shutdown lately. Getting up in the morning is the hardest part. It’s like waking up to another day of endless internal distress. Some days I don’t get up. I just sleep and sleep…and sleep to escape the forced exertion of the gigantic amount of energy it takes to maintain this life I hate. I don’t know who I can actually talk to because shrinks just don’t know and can’t truly understand, while family will surely worry and start to view me differently.
I’ve never been one to complain, but was always one to give whatever I had to help. I still give what I can, but I find that my capacity for charity or goodwill is being diminished by the struggle it takes to even get up and survive the day, which gets me even more down. I’m gradually becoming alone, listless, and useless. I hate it, but im exhausted with trying to find ways to escape or overcome it.