I am grateful that I am allowed to be distracted by extraneous stimuli. I don’t sit inside myself and wallow in an endless cascade of self-pity.
I might overcompensate with that. I might do myself an injustice by removing my own needs or desires from an equation in order to “balance” things. On one hand, I want to go to sleep. On the other, sleeping all the time isn’t conducive to experiencing life. So I’ll sign up for something without regard to how much I’ll enjoy it solely to avoid inserting myself as a factor and just sleeping, or doomscrolling, or wasting time on vidya. It’s almost as though my self care is ignoring myself to an extent, and it has been a more than decent coping strategy that has actually made positive impact in my life. I have yet to balance it out in a healthy and meaningful way, but so far the negative has been minimal by comparison.
At one point in time I had a healthier grip on this balance. Instead of inserting myself in situations in order to “force” myself out of my shell, I would remain in my cocoon but fill it with learning new technologies. It allowed me to be the introvert that I am and not just wast away. However, I still did need to force myself out of that cocoon from time to time, but it very much didn’t happen.
I think part of the balance I need in life will be to reintroduce those little hobbies I used to have while still forcing myself out of my safety bubble from time to time.
I dunno. I know a guy who is very much stuck in his safety bubble and refuses to leave it for even a second. He’s very much clinging to the past and wallowing in self pity. No amount of coaxing seems to be pulling him out. But it does warrant attention, because I could fall into that trap if I’m not careful. I think anyone could. It’s poison, but it can be an addictive poison.
I hate over-analyzing everything. I hate over-thinking. I hate that everything is somehow predicated on everything else, interconnected, interwoven, as though existence is simultaneously everything and nothing all at once. Like picking up a stone in the driveway is somehow holding a piece of the entire universe in the palm of your hand, no more or less significant than a dying star a million light years away. The refrigerator light doesn’t exist, so what does it’s state matter if the door is open or closed? I don’t know. Yet, somehow, it’s impossible not to.