seventh

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a conservative. Nor do I, like so many other left-leaning individuals, hate Obama. I actually think he's done a decent job thus far, considering the opposition he's met at every turn from the latently racist/openly stubborn GOP who seem hellbent on rejecting anything the President or Democrats propose simply because it was proposed by the President or Democrats. I do, however, find the President's usage of the term "folks" a little suspect--almost too deliberate. I imagine this choice of nomenclature was a calculated political move--a conscious decision--to appeal to the everyman. Still: every time I hear the President use it, it sounds so unnatural--so false.

Whatever.

I had another flare-up recently. This time involving my knack for writing. I'm noticing a trend, here. I mean: I've always noticed it--the cyclical nature, the glaring consistencies. Every three months or so I am no longer able to ignore these anxieties. They all involve some personal self-defining quality of mine being compromised or wiped out completely. The internal head-logic goes something like this:
"if this happens, then you will lose this valued trait," whether it's my ability to write or draw or talk or what-have-you--they are all things I use to define myself; things without which I would cease to be "me" as I believe myself to be. I live in constant fear of losing my essential defining characteristics.
I know it's completely ridiculous--some sort of magical thinking. But it's tied up so intimately with my religious convictions--my fear of God punishing me for what I know is wrong. The same twisted causal logic that drove God to flood the earth. I am unable to enjoy anything--any of my talents because I feel like they are not mine--not for long. Inevitably: I will do something, commit some great sin, and depending on the "deal" I make in my head, lose some very important quality. It's not that I lack self-esteem. I'm aware of all my greatest attributes: I just have trouble feeling proud of myself because I don't feel like they are mine for long.
It's all very heady and difficult to explain. Some days, these compulsive "deals" which stream through my brain endlessly--an ongoing conversation I have with myself and my conception of God and the Devil--are easier to shrug off. Other days, the fear is crippling until it all culminates in one unshakable incident which takes weeks to recover from--if I recover at all. I mope around, lamenting my perceived loss. I can feel that nothing has changed but I can also feel how maybe it has. I convince myself that it has--even if I know it hasn't. I think I'm just a natural pessimist. I have to consider every worst possibility--to the point that it's unhealthy. I not only consider every worst possibility--I make myself believe it. The pills help. They help tremendously. I just wish I didn't have to worry about this stuff. I want to live a normal life. I'm tired of headaches everyday--bed-confining migraines. I'm tired of feeling like a weirdo. I'm tired of it interfering with how I talk to people, how I perceive myself. But I know, ironically, that it's who I am--even if who I am is exactly what it seems determined to destroy.

How the fuck do I explain this to anyone? I get blank stares, even, when I try to tell my psychiatrist. They throw around accepted terms that sort of describe what I'm feeling but also ignore so much else--clinical generalizations. Neatly objective terms that alienate me from the professionals--terms defined through observation, subjects, case studies--and not personal experience.

Hopefully: this passes soon.