happydude619
Member
Although the actual day seemed to have far less meaning than in a typical year, and when I say "meaning" I refer to the day's almost entirely consumerism-led nature, but today was Valentine's Day. Even if I was with somebody I think this day would be a complete none-day for me as its motive seems totally misplaced. Not that this is the topic of this post, I hasten to add, no, instead it's more that when I reflect on things I realise that my life contains so many unwanted 'records'. Even though I dislike the day, I have never been in a relation with someone on Valentine's Day. I have never been in a relation with someone at Christmas or New Year, either. And for only two of my birthday's have I been in a relationship with someone, once was with my first girlfriend and the other time was with my second girlfriend. However, these birthday's clearly meant very little to either girlfriend because within one week of each of these birthday's, both girls ended the relationship with me. Taking account of this, I have not spent any one of the year's significant days with someone I loved and who genuinely loved me back. Thinking about it, in my entire life I have only ever had one day trip with a girlfriend...
All the above, and lots of the relationship stuff I discuss in numerous previous posts really does get me down. Even without Covid-19 I couldn't see a way out of my predicament. I also can't talk to anyone about it either; "can't" as in don't want to talk to anyone about it and I probably never will. I don't know why I find it almost literally impossible to talk to people about what's on my mind. Am I afraid of being judged, thought less of, ridiculed or made to feel truly embarrassed by what I have to share? It's quite easy to share on a forum like RN because everyone is anonymous and my thoughts, worries and emotional baggage will never reach friends or family, meaning my pride and ego remain intact. However, the benefit I get from writing in this journal only goes so far, beyond which I just enter into a Catch-22 situation whereby I'm sure talking with someone about my issues would help but I don't want to talk about my issues so I don't get the help I so desperately require.
The pandemic (and the work from home / no social life / no life at all) has drained me of all but a few residual emotions so I don't even feel angry or psyched-up to think "F*ck it" and just drink to feel better. It's probably a good thing that I'm not seeking solace by pouring alcohol down my throat but the regularity with which I'm drinking has been increasing over the last couple months, mostly since Christmas I'd say. It's not a good sign but I'm at a point where I kinda don't care all that much about anything. I could boil my life down to one word, one syllable in fact: Meh... I think this lack of experiencing any sort of emotion or feeling is also affecting my libido because I can't remember the last time I felt naturally aroused by something; stimulating imagery or not. This is helping me to continue my period of no PMO, which is good, but I just wish I would (or could) just feel something else right now, some raw, spontaneous emotion. I think the best way to describe my life right now would be to say it's just like when you drive to work but when you get to work you can't remember any of the journey. You're awake and your brain is processing information, almost subconsciously but you aren't actively paying attention, you're on an autopilot of sorts and nothing is worth remembering. And because nothing is worth remember you mind turns off and you remember nothing at all. And for me it's been months since anything at all worth remembering actually happened.
All the above, and lots of the relationship stuff I discuss in numerous previous posts really does get me down. Even without Covid-19 I couldn't see a way out of my predicament. I also can't talk to anyone about it either; "can't" as in don't want to talk to anyone about it and I probably never will. I don't know why I find it almost literally impossible to talk to people about what's on my mind. Am I afraid of being judged, thought less of, ridiculed or made to feel truly embarrassed by what I have to share? It's quite easy to share on a forum like RN because everyone is anonymous and my thoughts, worries and emotional baggage will never reach friends or family, meaning my pride and ego remain intact. However, the benefit I get from writing in this journal only goes so far, beyond which I just enter into a Catch-22 situation whereby I'm sure talking with someone about my issues would help but I don't want to talk about my issues so I don't get the help I so desperately require.
The pandemic (and the work from home / no social life / no life at all) has drained me of all but a few residual emotions so I don't even feel angry or psyched-up to think "F*ck it" and just drink to feel better. It's probably a good thing that I'm not seeking solace by pouring alcohol down my throat but the regularity with which I'm drinking has been increasing over the last couple months, mostly since Christmas I'd say. It's not a good sign but I'm at a point where I kinda don't care all that much about anything. I could boil my life down to one word, one syllable in fact: Meh... I think this lack of experiencing any sort of emotion or feeling is also affecting my libido because I can't remember the last time I felt naturally aroused by something; stimulating imagery or not. This is helping me to continue my period of no PMO, which is good, but I just wish I would (or could) just feel something else right now, some raw, spontaneous emotion. I think the best way to describe my life right now would be to say it's just like when you drive to work but when you get to work you can't remember any of the journey. You're awake and your brain is processing information, almost subconsciously but you aren't actively paying attention, you're on an autopilot of sorts and nothing is worth remembering. And because nothing is worth remember you mind turns off and you remember nothing at all. And for me it's been months since anything at all worth remembering actually happened.