My Stream of Consciousness – And its Delusions

If you know me, you’re privy to my preference for stream-of-consciousness writing.

In the several autopsies of my own poetry and prose I’ve engaged in over time, it seems the best writing I have ever done is in a type of focused madness.

There are many mornings where I spill my thoughts on paper, and the thoughts often anger me. They are full of fear and negativity and sometimes I feel as if I should have never opened the box.

But it’s a beautiful way to write, and it uncovers the issues that I tend to stuff down.

I’m thinking this morning about a concept, a thought, an idea –whatever you want to call this obsession, that I really feel that I don’t know whether I’m an acceptable person or not.

I bet that sounds crazy. For one, I try to remind myself that is very subjective, whether someone is suitable to another.

And everything I read tells me to refrain from worrying about the opinions of others.

What makes this difficult is I question myself, too.

I know these practices and internal behaviors are detrimental to my life and its trajectory.

The old adages, “If you don’t believe in yourself, who will?” and “You can’t control what others think about you, you can only control yourself”, are burned in my mind, believe me. I know that’s how I’m supposed to think.

I don’t know if I’m just losing it and not medicated correctly, but I ask myself questions like this:

“Is the way you think really moral and conducive to society? Do you see the world in an acceptable way that fits in with society?”

“Are you really a good person, with all of the things you’ve done?”

“Do you deserve a good life, with the illness you have and the way you create problems for yourself and others?”

“Is it possible for you to be a functional member of society?”

“Are you embarrassing yourself constantly, without being aware of it, because you are just such an abnormal individual?”

“Do people see you in a positive light? Are you a respectable professional? Do people see you as an incapable child?”

I often guilt myself for the things I’ve done, the symptoms I can’t control, my behavior, my mistakes.

And I justify it because I tell myself, you have bipolar, you behave abnormally, that is a major deficit and who knows what people think of you. Of course you have reason to worry about your reputation and your future, because of your illness and the problems it causes.

I am in fear — what if I’m not “normal”? What if I am looked at like a weirdo? What if I think I’m fooling everyone but I’m really not?

Am I going to be OK?

I am realizing all of this is really bubbling up in my psyche like acid. I don’t know what to do with these thoughts. I’m trying to deal with them and come up with a solution. My therapist seems to think I only need to be seen once a month. I am not the kind of person to beg to be seen more, and I don’t even know if I can really express how I’m feeling anyway.

I’m best at writing, and definitely not at talking. This is the way I really make sense of it all. But I can’t make sense of how to come to grips with how I’m feeling and thinking.

Any advice? Words of wisdom?Β 

Have a good Thursday…. ——- KAT


6 thoughts on “My Stream of Consciousness – And its Delusions

  1. hey, thanks for the write up. i think i can relate to it. i used to write big long emails to people, that i like. very emotional, very questioning. it was a reflection of a state of my mind. and i always knew, that there is a me in the morning, which is very set and optimistic, and the later the evening, the more worry and reflection came up, which then made me write the mails. it had to get out. i never got satisfying answers back and sometimes i even got cut off, because it was too much for them, especially since they did not ask for it.

    now i try to calm me down, they way you describe it. so when i ask, am i doing enough, i just tell to myself something good. without being unrealistic or lying to myself. but still sometimes i get into this constant ruminating without me noticing it.

    in any way, thanks again, i like, what you write.


  2. I, too, can relate to most of that. Some types of people seem to be much more introspective than others; I don’t know why that is. Unfortunately, that introspective voice is not only our worst critic, but it’s often our most difficult to deal with because it takes subjectives and tries to force them into objective absolutes. It also tries to define our whole self by the light of our most incidental (and, perhaps, trivial) behaviors and failures.
    It takes those internal things and makes us view our entire social existence that way, which is obviously unfair.
    But look at those words: “good,” “abnormal,” ‘incapable child,” “weirdo,” et cetera. As you said, all subjective. How do you define a “good” person, exactly?
    One thing you said really struck me as the heart of the matter: “you have bipolar, you behave abnormally, that is a major deficit and who knows what people think of you.” My personal attitude (when it’s not getting the best of me) toward being bipolar is that it gives me _strengths_ that others don’t have. Yes, the tough parts are really tough; BUT, there are other aspects of it that make me think differently and aid in my creativity. I like to think of all the creative, successful people who embrace things like bipolar and use it in their favor. It’s who we are. These things make me abnormal, but that’s my edge. Like so many aspects of bipolar disorder, its traits are often pendulous extremes. That abnormality makes me feel incredibly, depressingly freaking lonely. It also flavors my creative endeavors in ways I’d never want to lose.
    But still, even knowing all that, those thoughts remain. Do people really care about me? If I died today, would anyone even cry? Am I just a burden upon those who are forced to (or pity me enough to) have active rolls in my life.
    Those questions always hang out in the dark, nefarious alleyways of my mind. But, when they’re not attacking, when I can see through them, I know better. I know that, while I’ve not accomplished as much as I’d like, I’ve accomplished a lot. I know that there are people who come running, who selflessly give without question. I know that they have that CHOICE; they aren’t a part of my life because of pity or some weird obligation. They’re here because they love me, flaws and all, just as I love them.
    So no, you’re not normal. But that’s how we want you!

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