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I Can't Even

I wonder what would cause one to lose a passion. The obvious answer might be depression. And while I technically have been depressed for most of the last decade, I still always found solace in writing. The past few months, however, have been punctuated by a newfound struggle to write anything longer than 3 sentences on a given topic at a time. I find myself coming to this site a few times each day with plenty to say only to not be bothered to write anything down at all.

Perhaps I’ve somehow just grown sick of writing. After all, I've been documenting my thoughts regularly for the last 10 years now. At first it started with a blogspot account where the sorrows of my angsty teenage years found a place to reside outside my head. Then I moved to paper as a college student and used the few passing opportunities I had between priorities to continue unraveling the tangled mess of thoughts that vexed me. I was 22 when I first joined EP, and for the first time discovered people to appreciate the things I had to write about. This caused the frequency of my writings to reach an unprecedented pace as I found myself motivated by the idea of making intimate connections and finally becoming relevant in the world.

I spent nearly 4 years on that site, writing my life away, from stories and answers to comments and messages; I became addicted to expressing myself in the only way I could.

But now I can't find the will to get any of the things I have to say off my mind. For months, a grating cascade of thoughts have swirled around in my head; turning into a turbulent cycle that can't slow down long enough for me to extract anything lucid from them. Whenever I manage to try, I can only pull out tiny fragments of what I intend to say before giving up hope of making a coherent story out of it. I don't know if I can call it writer's block since I can barely even get an opening thought prepared, and fail to turn it into any kind of introduction whenever I do.

I've been searching my head for an explanation as to why I've lost my ability to open up. I can’t think clearly enough to figure out what is really behind it, but I believe that cynicism is playing a large role. It's a topic I've given a lot of thought to given the recent political climate, and it's something that I've felt myself struggling to resist.

Cynicism and politics have always been intertwined with each other, but it feels like those helixes of rhetoric are binding themselves closer and closer together, suffocating any chance for hope to find a way in. I used to cherish political discussions. Getting to understand the spectrum of truths that people saw the world through and blurring the distinctions among them to arrive at a more comprehensive perspective of civilization. But now all I can feel is disgust at the level of discourse being had, from every side of the political landscape. As much as I would like to engage in a stimulating discussion of affairs, I keep finding myself in the putrid, vitriol-infested swamp of ideological parochialism. Coming here, I invariably land into a discussion with a stubbornly obtuse Trump-supporter trying to excuse his latest polarizing diatribe and immediately regret ever logging on.

Although it's not surprising to understand why they act and react the way they do. Cynicism makes it so that no one can trust each other. No one has any faith in the 'other side’ to be reasonable or understanding. We forego sincere dialogue and argue in generalizations because there's no hope for mutually beneficial outcomes. It's why we've just had the least effective congress in history. It's also why surveys have found the increasing trend in people believing the 'other side’ is dangerous to the country, or the record level of mistrust for congress. This despite the fact that incumbent congressmen and women win the overwhelming majority of their reelection bids. Cynicism is fueling the tribal chest-beating that's poisoning every sphere of the internet, and the ongoing polarization makes it difficult for an outcast like me to find a place to belong.

Not that politics are particularly important to me. I have other interests to choose from. But other intellectual pursuits are subject to the same soul-rotting cynicism we see in politics. We've seen social, scientific, and economic issues get politicized almost across the board, and the spaces for common ground are shrinking to the point of obsolescence. And even if they aren't designated red or blue, people are so desperate to be heard that they'll develop strong opinions on things that don't warrant them, such as we see in the realm of entertainment. Probably with just cause. Cynicism hasn't spared our leisure activities either. Our comedy shows and movies lack any type of mental or emotional growth in its plots; our action films lack any redemption for the villain; our dramas gloss over the moping and grieving processes of loss and rely on Deus Ex Machinas to salvage the stories.

Cynicism in general has made us so adept at figuring out and picking apart problems that we become satisfied in our understanding without bothering to find solutions. And it's evident all over this site. Most people use this site as a means for trivial entertainment. They treat the question section as a game show where they win imaginary points for answering. Where your problems are not something they care to help you with, but rather something to comment on for the sake of passing the time. They use the story section as their own musical showcase instead of a place to actually share their stories. The opportunities to form meaningful connections are ubiquitous, but people are too stuck in the web of cynicism to get close enough to make it happen.

And then of course there’s the constant cycle of complaining and name-calling and arguments without attempts at resolution. People jump to point out what’s wrong with something or someone while never bothering to find out why others think differently. Worst yet, they never propose a way of bridging the gap in understanding between competing schools of thought. I've come to realize that the only kind of people that post ideologically-motivated stories and questions are just here to publicly pat themselves on the back for simply believing what they do. It's frustrating trying to have any kind of engaging discussion these days without tribalists making a point to defend their hollow superiority.

Although I can say that I don't need this site for intellectual growth or stimulation. I'm more than capable of pursuing that on my own. That’s not even what I wanted to write about to begin with. I’m just trying to say that I really just want what everyone else wants: to not feel alone. It's the whole reason people join the tribes they do. Why they try to rally others to support their thoughts and relate to their experiences. But this attempt to balance the development of genuine connections with the false enlightenment of cynical despondency is tearing apart the fabric of human growth and development. Couples now make up less than half of the population. Single people are the majority for the first time ever recorded and we're increasingly reliant on a depersonalized hookup culture to satisfy our needs for intimacy. More than 75% of the population reports being either dissatisfied or disengaged at their job. Our trust in both politicians and news media is at historic lows. People just can't seem to listen and to trust and to empathize with each other, and this apparent inability to do so has me despairing for something more.

Although this rant is mischaracterizing my issue somewhat. The problem I'm dealing with isn't everyone else being cynical, but rather me being so. I can't say that it takes any effort for me to be that way. I've been buoyed by cynicism for a long time now.

I guess it’s to be expected when you’re the subject of a lifetime of solitude and isolation. I've never had a friend I could spend time with. I'm estranged from a family that betrayed my trust and belittled my problems at every opportunity. I’m well into my 20s and have yet to even be in a relationship. Depression and anxiety are the most reliable things I’ve ever had in my life. Hope has to fight against a massive body of contrarian evidence every day just to exist, let alone thrive. It's only the memories of being completely hopeless that prevent me from setting free the feeble remnants of hope I have left.

All I really want is someone to help with the loneliness. It's a lot to ask of this jaded hope of mine to come here and expose myself to people whose names I'll probably never know, faces I'll likely never see, and voices I doubt I'll ever hear with the aspiration of having a meaningful connection with them. I don’t think I’ll ever get over my anxiety. I’m expecting depression to be a lifelong condition I have to deal with. Happiness is a ship that sailed away long before I knew where the ocean was. The gnawing teeth of existentialism will always feed on any sense of peace I find. I know that one person won’t be enough to free me from my torments. I doubt that even 100 could. I just don’t want to keep feeling like I don’t have any chance at a worthwhile life. Like I will always be alone in my misery.

I don’t know how many people go this long in life without a friend or a partner without some severe medical or psychiatric issues. Or how many people can leave their phones undisturbed every single birthday and holiday because no one will ever call. Or how many people have no one they can use as an emergency contact. Or who would be left on the streets should they lose their home or job, not by their own choice, but from an utter lack of options. I keep being told everything will be alright, but years and years go by without ever feeling any closer.

It’s hard to have hope. I know almost everyone can say the same thing, but not one of them has had a life this bereft. Not to imply that difficulty is a competition, but there’s a big difference in someone trying to steer a boat in a storm and someone having to do it with no arms. It’s a terrible analogy, but it serves its purpose.

For a long time I felt like I could find my reprieve online. That of all the lonely and depressed people I came across, I could find one that understood the depth of my emptiness. That we could find comfort in knowing that our caustic alienation was finally over. That a lifetime of wondering when we’d stop feeling like a castaway in our own communities would come to its long overdue resolution. But it seems that every time I think I do, they find someone or something else to mitigate those feelings for them. For a few fleeting moments, I held out hope that everything I had been through would be worth the pain, only to stretch too far and have my hopes chipped away even further as they fell back to Earth.

That's really what this whole rambling mess is about: trying to find the will to hold out hope again. I know how much self-imposed isolation can atrophy the will to live, but when putting yourself out there yields the same results, it seems like a waste of effort to continue carrying hope around. That’s why I think I quit writing. It appears that the reasoning behind my contributions to this site was determined not by what I felt like saying or writing, but about who cared enough to listen.

It’s tempting to give into the hopelessness. To let the cynicism take over and use the people of this site as a means for my entertainment. To whittle away the last remaining hopes of making a connection and devote my time to finding out how many flippant questions and answers I can post in a day before I decide on another way to waste time. To just spare time altogether and expedite the inevitable. But for the time being, I’m not quite cynical enough to give up hope. I know I’m not the only one that wants to have a fulfilling relationship on here, so I can’t really justify the abstention from sharing myself through writing. As jaded as I’ve been, there are still a lot of broken people here. Hopefully by sharing enough of our pieces, we can know what it’s like to feel whole.
SW-User
I'd say you broke through the writer's block and the other things holding you back. This was an incredibly moving, vulnerable, relatable write! You are clearly gifted as a writer and have a lot to share that is helpful to others. This was a first step in finding your voice again....keep speaking, you have people listening.

I can't promise things will get better. However, if you need a listening ear or someone to talk to who understands much of what you're going through, feel free to message me any time.
This is why EP was so loved so many. I still talk to some members still. SW just seems like a cheap copy at times, but some people can surprise you give it time.
DanielChristensen · 46-50, M
This is well written, evocative. I understand where you are coming from in different ways here. I find that an artist's works mirror their life. To find new inspiration, delve into new things, get out of your comfort zone. We put ourselves in these states of isolation. You can alleviate some loneliness also by delving into new territory. Easy enough to do. There is something to explore right in front of you. I recently took Microsoft Excel training classes at the local Goodwill job center. I took a year of meditation classes before that. Good luck to you.
SW-User
Well, I don't really wish to write for the sake of art. I'm not aiming to inspire awe from anyone. I'm also not looking for new experiences to inspire me to write something new or profound. I have plenty of material swirling around in my head. It's just hard to focus or care. And this is despite this story being written a week after taking a three day vacation to a different city. I don't think taking classes or whatnot is the solution I need
DanielChristensen · 46-50, M
I would not define art as the desire to inspire awe. I would define it as the desire to express awe and resonate with others. Writing something profound comes from writing something honest, vulnerable and personal. Even fiction has to draw from a true well of feeling, honest passion, or it does not touch the heart.

We are designed as empathetic beings because we are social, cooperative beings, achieving our best and greatest together. Our greatest individuals are aided, uplifted, inspired, buoyed and recognized by those they aid, uplift, inspire, buoy and collaborate with. We truly reap what we sow, in this regard at least.

My problem artistically is not losing focus with material, once I have the feeling, the inspiration, it flies like an arrow to the mark, writing itself through me. Where to begin, what it is I wish to reveal, is what I wait for. Sometimes the waiting is a seemingly interminable agony.

Probably would not hurt to try it, you don't really know until you do. Whatever you do decide to do, logic follows that you should try something else, if what you are currently doing is not producing desired results and fulfillment. 🙏
SW-User
@DanielChristensen: I don't think you understand what this post was about. I appreciate the advice, it's just not something relevant to my problem.

Leaving my comfort zone isn't what's contributing to my issues. It's what's highlighting them. I keep coming back to my comfort zone with even less hope than I had when I left it.

I can see how your advice would be useful in helping with your struggles, but I doubt that you've lived through mine. It's more than just writer's block. It's about being understood. The more people I engage with, the less likely it seems that it will ever happen

 
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