I use guilt to subdue the rage inside. I internalize anger, choosing to be masochistic rather than sadistic. I fear losing control, yet I want it more than anything.
I suppose we all are afraid of the thing we want most. Or perhaps want the thing our fear denies us. Chicken/egg scenerio aside, allowing myself to be fully self-interested would (in my mind) make me a horrible human being. I feel I would take advantage and destroy what is good in me.
So a selfless life is the only one worth living apparently, despite the fact that needs and desires crop up constantly, and because of the holding back, the denying of self, it hardly ever comes to fruition. I'll never be satisfied with partial indulgence. Manipulation also becomes the way to get things without (seemingly) changing.
I'm still the same giving, selfless person, but if you wanted to do that for me, well, okay. But it's cowardly doing that. The self-interested person is at least being honest with themselves and you. This is what they want, give it to them. Whereas I whine and complain and hope things work out how I want.
So guilt comes back, this time for being what you thought was a good person. Dammit. Well, what prevents you from finding a balance between selfless and selfish? Fear? Of becoming your father? Not wanting to turn into the one person you genuinely hate?
Maybe. What is the fear anyways? That someone might not like me, that I won't be accepted, that a person out there is thinking negative things about me? Who cares? I'm thinking horrible things about everyone, hating on them for not being like me, which is insane considering how much trouble I have just existing in this world.
I identify with the pain and discomfort of my personality, but that's just a fear of change, of being someone new. Comfort in the fractured pieces, the muck of my being, the negative cocoon that keeps me from being too happy, therefore, prevents me from being hurt too bad.
So, a fear of being happy. Or rather, a fear of losing hapiness once gained. Blissful ignorance ended one day in my past and I suppose I never recovered from that long fall. Holding on to the pain of emotional bumps and bruises from a lifetime, claiming those as my persona. I survived these things, this is who I am.
Moving on past that pain, letting go of the memories, this might be the reason. All I have left is the painful memory, but maybe if I create a new memory to hang on to, I can release the painful one. I can stop torturing myself with the image of my sick grandma, wasting away from cancer and chemo, as we eat Christmas dinner and pretend everything is fine.
I see their pain. Everyone's. I want to end their suffering, but most people can't even acknowledge their own problems, let alone deal with them. And I, in my infinite ego, want them to allow me to help them through it, force them to face their issues, and be whole and happy, and do it right now. Mainly because of self-interest, in that I'm annoyed they're unhappy and I don't want to deal with their suffering.
I shouldn't have to deal with anyone else's suffering, but I do. I see the unspoken pain. I can't ignore my own awareness. So I become crazy trying to work out the bigger picture in hopes that if I can somehow guide the masses to a better place emotionally, or slay the dragon of negativity that weighs us all down, then I can truly help those around me.
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