<< :
2003-12-01 @ 5:22 p.m. : >>
Missing Ingredients?
I went through a phase for a while. A quite lengthy phase actually, beginning in about March of the year I turned 19 and finishing about March of this year. It was a phase of being convinced that something was wrong with me. That I really ought to be happier. That things ought to be different somehow.
I was convinced - or, at least, allowed myself to become convinced - that the root of this problem was some missing ingredient in my brain. And thus began a two year search for some magic pill.
I never found it. Not one thing I took ever did anything. They may as well have just been Smarties.
I am somewhat ashamed and embarrassed now that I ever could have been so naive. That I ever could have bought this stuff. That I went on for so long, as if I were on some kind of pharmaceutical quest to make myself happy.
In retrospect though, it was a fair enough thing to try. I shouldn't bash myself so. After all, I know people who say these things have truly helped them a great deal. They could have changed something.
I don't believe I was ever clinically depressed. But they could have changed my constant lethargy, given me more energy for things, stopped me developing obsessive crushes, increased my confidence.... But I would not say any of those are clinical symptoms.
Maybe there really is something missing. I should not be constantly craving the unobtainable.... be so fixated on things that are out-of-reach for the moment (like Brighton beach). I should be better able to get on and enjoy what I currently have.
But are those things pathological? Or are they just me? I don't know any more.
"You think too much," says my brother. "You over-analyze. Stoppit! There's nothing wrong with you at all."
He is probably right.
Missing Ingredients?
I went through a phase for a while. A quite lengthy phase actually, beginning in about March of the year I turned 19 and finishing about March of this year. It was a phase of being convinced that something was wrong with me. That I really ought to be happier. That things ought to be different somehow.
I was convinced - or, at least, allowed myself to become convinced - that the root of this problem was some missing ingredient in my brain. And thus began a two year search for some magic pill.
I never found it. Not one thing I took ever did anything. They may as well have just been Smarties.
I am somewhat ashamed and embarrassed now that I ever could have been so naive. That I ever could have bought this stuff. That I went on for so long, as if I were on some kind of pharmaceutical quest to make myself happy.
In retrospect though, it was a fair enough thing to try. I shouldn't bash myself so. After all, I know people who say these things have truly helped them a great deal. They could have changed something.
I don't believe I was ever clinically depressed. But they could have changed my constant lethargy, given me more energy for things, stopped me developing obsessive crushes, increased my confidence.... But I would not say any of those are clinical symptoms.
Maybe there really is something missing. I should not be constantly craving the unobtainable.... be so fixated on things that are out-of-reach for the moment (like Brighton beach). I should be better able to get on and enjoy what I currently have.
But are those things pathological? Or are they just me? I don't know any more.
"You think too much," says my brother. "You over-analyze. Stoppit! There's nothing wrong with you at all."
He is probably right.