I rarely write anymore. Perhaps it's just adulting (defined as my brain being too occupied with responsibilities like earning money and trying to maintain relative sanity in friendships) or perhaps I value reading more than the cathartic act here. I still make notes about my day when I am on the 1.5 hour long bus ride - it mostly reads like "buy snacks for latte. finish scrubbing user stories and identify gaps for H5. tell brian i need extension."
2023 was a year of slight unhappiness for me. Slight because it is not on the scale of a hellmouth, but still painful and fear-inducing enough to make me remember all the bits and pieces that I did not enjoy. The break-up (if we count the 'almost', it would be twice), the loss of a promotion twice, the onboarding onto a ? project, the loss of my interest and curiosity in life in general. I would have thought that I was sinking into a depressive funk if not for the acute knowing that a depressive funk is far worse, and far more recognizable than the malaise currently. (P.S. The switch into a funk feels like all the clouds in a 10km radius gathering over your life in one single second, and there is no warmth or light anymore.)
The title of the post is ten years on. It has been about 10 years since I went off medication for the 1st time, and about 1 year and 10 months since I went off medication for the 2nd time. A lot has changed since the first memory of being able to feel the sunshine on my skin. Apart from obvious signs of ageing (slight crow's feet?), I am also a lot less anxious, less morose, have about 20x more friends, and am also a lot more resilient than the past. I am also more than a 100k richer, and the desperation of not being able to pay for something has largely left me. I used to feel desperate and small and unable to get out from underneath the bell jar, now I mostly feel like an occasional visitor to the bell jar kingdom.
I used to really look forward to the future. I thought that when the future arrived, my brain would be different. Now that the future has arrived, I would like to give myself a rating of "B+". Not an A because there's still a long way to go to who I would admire, and not a C because I am still alive. The credit due to myself for holding on and doing chores and feeding latte while feeling like a vulnerable porcupine, is enough for a decent B.
The road to an A would look like this:
- Maintain minimally the current level of curiosity about the world, and learn to structure my thoughts more coherently.
- Break big problems into small ones and try to figure it out collaboratively.
- Even if there is a lack of collaboration - don't give up on individual execution.
But - even if A never arrives, I still think this life is enough. Perhaps it is fear that is holding me back, or perhaps it is just the passing of time. One can only find out 10 years from now if I am able to develop stronger quills. It's really interesting because I never thought I would be less picky than a 19 year old me.
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