Sunday, September 11, 2016

psychoanalytic self-portraiture

I guess that in some ways, I do still believe that it all comes down to a better understanding of ourselves.  Whether we're trying to understand the meaning of life, or figure out how to overcome our neurosis, to accomplish whatever nonsense we think we need to accomplish.  I often come back to trying to understand myself.  What is it that I'm really looking for?  What's going on under the hood, behind the contrived facade, orchestrating my intent to go this way or that?

I desperately want to understand motivation.  I want to understand why it sometimes involves actually doing things, and other times it just fizzles out.  I want to understand this in scientific terms.  I might think it were obvious, if it weren't going so sideways in my case.

Sometimes I get this glimpse into an underlying process by which I seem to feel that if I'm not enjoying myself, I'm wasting time.   As in, whatever precious time I've got left in this sputtering life, I don't want to waste it doing dishes.  It's not a rational thought.  I know that.  It's childish and annoying.  It's not a thought that passes through my rational mind, though.  It's something I can see, beneath the surface, where I don't know how to get at it.

So I get maddeningly impatient, I have trouble focusing, etc. Is the thought a product of chemistry, or does the thought have some influence over the chemistry?  If the thought is just a product of causes, this negates the issue of its influence.  It doesn't matter what else a thought in turn causes, because that thought is going to happen, regardless.  It's being caused by something else.

Maybe not everyone believes in the concept of an unconscious mind, or that it's quite so major a part of the equation. It seems almost indisputable to me, so I assume most would agree.. and then wonder why we don't agree on much of anything, in which that fundamental distinction is predicated.

Sometimes I do the dishes anyhow.  Sometimes easily.  Sometimes with some degree inner crying and whining about it, that I get over.  Sometimes, not now, no fucking way.  Not due to any notable pattern in mood, other than the basic ability to get up and do something I don't feel like doing.  I want to know what that variable is, and how I might somehow apply CPR.

Some of my problems are trickier than dishes.

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