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я (10)

<p>О, гэта ну вельмі важна для мяне! Ну хто ж я такі? Чаго я жадаю? Якія мае сэнсы? Столькі пытанняў, што і не разгресці іх праз гэтае жыццё. Алеж я маю адзіную надзею. Са смерцю, мае Я не знікне. Я хачу жыць вечна!</p>

I'm Awesome, I'm a Superstar!

Every person is imperfect, it can be said this is a criterion of humanity, the norm of being human. This is what allows us to communicate, love, empathize, understand, accept, and be accepted. Through all this imperfection, the best phenomena in the world shine through. An imperfect person: makes mistakes, hurts others, misses, breaks, causes harm, doesn't tolerate, shouts, can't love, doesn't understand...

All this is very human; there's no catastrophe in it. Every misunderstanding is covered by understanding, and every mistake is countered with a good deed.

I long suffered from a simple thought: "I have the right to exist only if I'm perfect."

This thought pushed me out of reality. Because in reality, I'm not perfect. But in my own invented (safe) world, everything revolves around one point - I'm awesome, I'm a superstar. It's nauseating to live with such a self-righteous attitude. The entire world, people around, things I do, they serve only one function for me: situations where I must be the HERO and people who must affirm it. The cycle is complete.

"Yahoo!!! I came up with a brilliant idea, now we friends will all pull together, work for free, and my family will survive on basics for a while. But then we'll make millions! - I'm awesome, I'm a superstar! After 3 months. Friends, I see all the flaws in this idea, we need to wrap it up. I managed to see the essence of things and overcome my past self. Let's disband and move on. We worked for free, and that's enough! - I'm awesome, I'm a superstar."

"Dear and beloved, are you struggling? Feeling bad? Don't know what's happening with you? - Don't worry, I'll sort everything out. After all, I'm awesome, I'm a superstar. And you're the wife of the world's best husband! Here's what I'll tell you. We have the best family in the world, you're the most beloved wife. We're the happiest people on the planet. Why are you so down? Why are you struggling? Perhaps something inside you broke, because objectively, everything's really great. But I'll help you fix everything inside you and see how everything is actually good and wonderful."

"Beloved, are you scared? - Don't be scared, everything's fine. Because I'm awesome, I'm a superstar."

"My dear, do you think I earn too little? - What are you talking about? Look at the homeless. Look at the women who are alone, without a husband. And you, you're practically a queen. I provide for the family, and you don't have to work. I'm awesome, I'm a superstar! You probably forgot that with me, you'll be happy even in a tent in the middle of a field."

"Kids, if you've done something wrong, go stand in the corner. This is my signature parenting technique. I brilliantly came up with it. I'm awesome, I'm a superstar."

"Our company, it's a company of friends. We never intended to make money, like all the other idiots. Only I, only I can give you all this. I'm awesome, I'm a superstar."

"Oh, I really messed up here. But look, see how fearlessly I admit my mistakes. I'm awesome."

"I'm the most sinful on earth, I'm not awesome, I'm not a superstar. Sounds cool. Look how critically I look at myself. What a sharp perspective on life. I'm awesome, I'm a superstar!"

"Do you want to advise me on something? Of course, I'm ready to listen to you and tell you how I've already thought it all out and did it. I'm not some fool, I understand and see everything in the world. And I also see that I see nothing and everything else that needs to be seen and known. I'm awesome..."

Almost teared up while writing this. I hug you all, my dear Dasha, children, parents, brother, friends, and work and project colleagues. You were the victims of the fear of imperfection, for which I dragged you into all these theatrical events of my life. Thank you for being there. Thank you for believing and loving me. Thank you for still loving me now.

My fear of being imperfect suffocated me. And through my nauseating righteousness, I suffocated you from different angles. With my infallibility, justification, and not admitting that you could struggle with me.

Now my choice is to be Human, a human who is endearingly imperfect and doesn't need that perfection, but rather needs love and a genuine orientation towards other people.

Now, I'm not awesome, I'm a human. I love myself.

Alluring Anxiety

Storm, storm rages! It rolls from side to side within me.

I always craved calmness before. Thoughts that instilled fear or simply anxiety were unwanted companions. And I did whatever I could to calm down. Mostly, it helped to go and easily sleep at any time of the day or night.

But now it's different. I feel the anxiety and I want to utilize it. I want to see what it brings with it. What it's about. There's no pleasure in this, but there's energy, and I need to use that energy. In all this anxiety, a certain existential meaning has emerged. Value. A moment I don't want to just miss or lose. Since I started savoring such states, the usual quiet life inside me seems bland. Like a dull routine. Though everything is good in moderation.

And right now, I'm reading to Ksyusha about the adventures of Tom Sawyer. Today was the chapter about the murder of the doctor in the graveyard at night. I wonder if I was hasty to read this to a seven-year-old girl. I'll go and pray with her for the night.

And to you, goodnight friends.

Who Will Help Them?

What inspires me to study to become a psychotherapist? A desire to assist my close ones and friends in their pain and senselessness. In their searches and queries. However, becoming a psychotherapist, I won't be able to help them, because one can only be a psychotherapist to those with whom they don't have relationships outside of that professional context.

So, I'm left to help other people, dreaming that there will be someone in this world who will assist my close ones.

P.S.: Although there are topics that I'd like to explore and present from my perspective in the form of articles or videos:

  • Building a family
  • Relationships with a wife
  • Relationships with children

Attempting to understand and accept oneself and another in these relationships seems to me the most important aspects of life.

Loss of Small Meanings

A serious question, meanings lost, they flew away. The tiny ones, which were held onto. Professional meaninglessness, should it be avoided? Or, on the contrary, should one somehow grasp onto it so as not to invent other concerns for oneself?

Living in meaninglessness? How is this? What does it provide? Does it bring one closer to something grand? Something bright or true? Viktor Frankl would have said that a person quickly disappears if he lacks meaning. And Nietzsche would have remarked that if you know the 'why', then the 'how' hardly matters.

This seems true. But should one cling to everything that comes to hand? Or should one try to be a good housewife, nurturing children and blessing everyone with her love? This is compatible and close to my main life's meaning. But there are some perhaps natural barriers that prevent full commitment. The need or vision of some social-organizing function. To do something, to create, to decide, to issue something. And, undoubtedly, undoubtedly it's meaningful, and that which aligns with personal purpose.

Meaning - love. Actions - ???? Why are all actions meaningless? What's happening to them, what's that about? I once considered myself healthy.

A good test, I truly don’t know what to do, how is a different question. So after this crisis, there will be a sequence of tasks:

  1. Clean up – done, feeling joy.
  2. Then, for example, sort out the inbox and wait for it to fill - done and life is under control.
  3. Plan socially useful things! - Done. The world is ahead! You can run!

Here the cycle is closed. Because all this planning/cleaning is just an imitation, suggesting life is under control.

But it really doesn't want to be under control. And it won't be. Because fundamentally - we are all mortal, and there's nothing to do about that, everything else is just intermediate stages.

So, what to do? Clean up, or not? I paused for a few minutes. Ksyusha came in, wanted to play. I said I was very busy. "I don’t know what to do." And she says: well if you don’t know what to do, you could play with me.

And a thought slipped by: "Unfavorable," but can something else be achieved in this game? Some additional benefit. This "benefit", for its sake, wastes life, wastes meaning, wastes the "here and now."

Is there such a type of sinners: "profit-lovers"?
It seems to me, a prevalent disease now.

 
 

Little Flowers

I hid among the flowers
Tra ta ta ta ta
Such a good game
For a little boy

I'll walk along the path
Tra ta ta ta ta
With my net, touching
The topics of existence

I pick up a little snake
Tra ta ta ta ta
So it doesn't die from a ditch
I let it crawl to the grass

I want to think of the eternal
Tra ta ta ta ta
But for now, I'm carefree
So nonsense happens.


IT-Nausea

For some reason, I started to feel nauseated by IT. Somehow, it's become repulsive. I had previously perceived it as some sort of computer game, just with real-life quests and real money. But now, after feeling nauseous in VR, after using ChatGPT for meaningless projects, after a week of trying to set up prompt communication with Midjourney, I'm losing faith in IT. It's very engrossing and takes me away from life, from people, from myself.

Illustration "Dull computer crap." The image was generated in Midjourney. The prompt text was generated in ChatGPT.

Life in the Forest

A whole life unfolds in the forest,
Takes just a few hours,
I feel with all my soul,
I'm not alone here, not just by myself.

With myself,
Meeting with God,
The forest gives me strength,
Every single time.

Yet life pulls me back again,
Into the whirlwind of half-dead,
Endless phases...

Flexible Heels on Steel Necks

How suffocating it feels, how heavy when you've tried to suffocate but couldn't. Why is that? Perhaps it's because initially, you come and press your heel onto someone's neck. And there's a desire to stretch and stand taller. And you suffocate. Why? - To be above. To bring them to the light. To dazzle with your wisdom. And you crumble, realizing that your heel breaks against steel necks. They are strong, and at some point, they understand that not everything is right in your head. And they realize that your flexible heels slide on their unyielding steel. It's unbearably hard for me to admit that I suffocate, yet time and again I place my feet on others' necks. I can't stand myself.

Another matter is when the necks aren't made of steel. Then it feels like you've performed a high-tech operation with your heel. Helped someone see life from a different perspective...
Disgusting.

Manipulation Through Sincerity

"Hello everyone, I've finally mustered the courage to write!
Actually, no, life pressed me so much that I had to come out of my shell. Besides, it's not even me writing this text, but some guy, a friend of my husband's. All because I don't write texts, I make awesome... "

I felt a great emotion when I revealed myself in this way (as the invisible author of the advertisement) and those who would post such an ad. To write in the name of a girl, and then in the text itself admit that the writer is a man, and then continue writing in the name of the girl. The lie in the text is disclosed by sincerity (hyper-sincerity), and then continues with falsehood. All this arises in my head, a kind of turmoil with mixed feelings.

That's often how it was with me. It used to be even more frequent.

Hyper-Sincerity is just that, formally sincerity. It pursues something bigger, something else. Because hyper-sincerity isn't self-sufficient. I feel it's an emotional-manipulative moment when, saying sincerely and very sincerely, we pursue some unspoken (or better yet, explicitly stated) objectives. This creates a sort of brew that transports us to the emotional realm.

The reader or listener pays attention to this; they are not defended against such moves because they begin to feel the state possibly felt by the person who wrote that text or says those things. They understand how they would feel if they wrote or said something similar. And it moves them; they witness something quite uncomfortable, something worth noticing.

And here I wanted to write that the author of all this doesn't feel anything. But I paused and felt. Feels, indeed. This combination of feelings inspires and energizes.

In general, hyper-sincerity made me strong when I was afraid of being exposed for lying. Or when there was something that could be revealed in me, something very painful. I strive to vocalize it through hyper-sincerity and stop being afraid.

A person who neither defends nor flees from fear might not need to use hyper-sincerity. And it would be good to live without the strain of hyper-sincerity. I think I'm on the way to that.

The Dictator Inside Me

4 in the morning, my inflamed brain woke up and won't let me fall asleep. Why do I have such a strong desire for recognition of my ideas? Why is there so much unbearable belief in what I do? No, not a big one, but a small one. I see how neural connections have converged and aligned so that, to resolve a situation, I see only one solution. The one I suggest. I am ready to stubbornly stand with arguments in defense of my decision, like a tiny dictator of the lowest level.

Projecting my state onto real dictators, I might understand them better. The insatiable desire to implement their truth and vision in the entire world. The manic desire for their truth and their genius to be accepted by every person on Earth. And anyone who cannot fathom this genius becomes either an enemy or an uneducated fool. Having written this, I feel lighter. I can head out for a nighttime walk.

P.S. I decided to search for an illustration for the post and googled "Dictator" in pictures. But I found a book called "Dictator" by my very favorite Ulf Stark. Now I'll read it.

  • I read it, a cool illustrated book for children. Logvinov did the translation into Belarusian. But I found it in Russian. If anyone's interested, comment or DM, and I'll send the link. Now, definitely off for a walk.