Basic wishes of a megalomaniac

I´ve just re-read something I wrote about my career counseling in my diary, and I think that maybe, apart from that coach being a very dubious person, it came at a wrong time. I´d already lost all my naivety, and, if you like, innocence. I was lost in a labyrinth of thoughts and ideas and assumptions and job descriptions, and maybe the result was me being unable to see the forest for the trees. There must be some very basic things I connect with self-fulfillment, such basic things that I constantly overlook them because I presuppose them. So let´s look for them:

1) I want to be a public figure.

I rarely even think about it, but all of my daydreams involve me speaking to people, and often enough in front of people. When I think about what kind of public figure I want to be, I think that:

  • I don´t want to be a politician.
  • I don´t want to be someone who represents someone or something else.
  • I don´t want to talk about unpersonal things like chemistry or biology.
  • I don´t want to be confined to one ideology or agenda.
  • I don´t want to live in fear of kidnappers, or stalkers, or murderers.
  • I don´t want to be limited to a specific audience.
  • I don´t want to have to stick to one opinion.
  • I don´t want to just talk about some theory I have, or about specific topics.
  • I do want the freedom to change my mind and let my thoughts run free.
  • I do want to pick topics spontaneously.
  • I do want to make people feel, laugh, stunned, exhilarated, moved.
  • I do want to be envied without people really wanting to imitate my choices.
  • I do want to be a bit of a freak, while people can´t help wondering if maybe the life I chose was the better choice.
  • I want to talk about myself and my experiences a lot.
  • I want to be a person with an interesting life.

So that´s a whole lot already. What other general points are there?

2) I want to let my thoughts wander until insights or ideas form, and then I want to express those insights/ideas in the best possible way and make them public, and I want them to make people feel like they learned something.

  • I don´t want to teach school.
  • I want to adress adults, not children.
  • I don´t want to be confined to writing fictional stories in order to convey thoughts I´d like to express directly.
  • I want to be taken seriously as a thinker.
  • I don´t want to be reduced to being a writer/novelist.
  • I always want to have the possibility to write novels, and there are some I would really like to write and publish.
  • I want to comment on the zeitgeist and influence it.
  • I want to contradict and refute every theory that pisses me off.
  • I want to reduce the general self-hatred in the western world by finding out it is unnecessary.
  • I want to justify myself, my existence, my feelings and thoughts.
  • I don´t want to use novels as a means for propaganda.
  • I don´t want to lie or twist facts. I want to think things through until I find out the truth is what I want it to be, or until I find out that when something makes me angry there really is something wrong with it – and what it is.
  • I want to reach people emotionally and affect how they think about themselves, even when I am writing non-fiction.
  • I want people to recognize in themselves what I write about myself.

That´s all a bit fuzzy still. Let´s put it like this: I want to be a public figure who expresses everything that´s inside of her, every side of her, the comical, the tragic, the evil, the wise side, and thus educates the public. Let´s say that´s my idea of real success in life. Getting to do that, and being listened to.

There are various ways of doing this. I could write essays (and publish them in my blog, or, if possible, elsewhere), I could be a comedian (I love to perform in front of an audience, after all), and sometimes I can express myself by proxy when I write a novel about some fictional characters. But something seems to stop me from taking the necessary steps. It took several months before I finally opened this blog, even though I´d been yearning to have one. And while I might start novels and even write a whole lot in a short time, I don´t finish them, and I wonder if part of the reason might not be laziness but some kind of fear. A fear of the very thing I want. A fear of being seen.

Talking in front of someone, or even to someone if he is completely focused on you, is something magical. You talk and talk and you´re brilliant and witty and there is some mystical connection between you and your audience which makes you feel powerful and loved – but then you walk away and feel some kind of hangover. Did I say too much? What do they really think of me, now, after we´ve parted ways? I sure felt intimate with them, but we don´t actually know each other, so…am I connected to anybody at all? Do I have a real relationship with anybody? Does anybody know my true self? Who is that even, that true self? I´ve not been wearing a mask, have I? I felt so genuine and like myself, and yet it cannot be me, because I´m also myself right now, and I´m completely different!

The gap between these two realms of self-experience makes me feel like I have one more or less false self (the stage person, no matter how genuine she feels) and one underdeveloped real self who cannot cope in life and doesn´t seem to have anything to offer. I always viewed this as a pathological narcissism issue, but maybe that´s a very narrow or even judgmental perspective.

What this gap reminds me of is the gap between my normal behavior and self-perception, and my behavior/self-perception in sadomasochistic interactions (yes, to repeat it, the consensual kind). When I top I´m more witty, more perceptive, less scared of others´opinions, and also more talkative. Sometimes I even do act like a comedian (“Gaaaah, now look at this, I´m too dumb to tie a proper knot! Makes you wonder how I don´t fall over my own shoelaces, doesn´t it? You know what? I actually do! “), but I don´t expect an answer. I´m being on some kind of stage, in a way. After all, I´m expected to run the show. Normally, though, I´m rather shy, I don´t know how to start conversations, and I´m somewhere with my head in the clouds.

While that gap is visible, I don´t feel it. I don´t worry which of these two modes of being is my true self. For some reason in these situations switching back and forth is no problem.

Now…wait a second…sometimes I´m also putting on a bit of a comedian role in front of my friends. Does that make me feel like there´s something wrong with me? No, it doesn´t, although I can feel the gap to some extent. Actually, there´s just one situation in which I feel like I´ve said too much and like there´s something wrong with me, and this is when I talk like that to my family members.

Sometimes I play the clown in front of my family, or give passionate speeches about one thing or the other, and afterwards I always feel ashamed of myself. Like my behavior has been totally inappropriate. I don´t think it´s always been like that, for a while they found it funny, but that must have stopped at some point. There were times when my mother, my sister and I were laughing terribly at something I said while playing cards. Now, that wouldn´t happen anymore. My mother and sister (and my father, too) don´t seem to approve of me making jokes anymore. Almost as if they thought I was taking things too lightly. I don´t know why it happened, it might well have been like that for ten years now. Well. Ten years ago was the first time I said I wanted to kill myself.
I feel like they´ve never forgiven me my suicidal phase, nor do they trust me. They do believe I could kill myself or others. My father recently refused to leave me one of his big kitchen knives when he moves out because “they are so dangerous”. He wasn´t worried so much I could get injured (and not even intentionally), but that I could hurt someone else. I´ve no idea where this is coming from. If my temper tantrums scare him, how does he think I made it through his?

I think they hold quite a grudge against me for getting them so worried. Or for having been so depressed and difficult. Of course it´s completely pointless to try to talk about it. They´d deny it just because they wouldn´t trust I can take the truth without killing myself, if for no other reason. And maybe I really can´t, because the truth is probably one of unforgiveness. Neither can I forgive them, nor can they forgive me. I think I´ve been missing important emotional components of family closeness throughout the larger part of my life, so that loss would be nothing new. But I wish it would stop making me feel like crap. It´s like I´m on probation at best. I will never feel like an equal, simply because I´ll never be an equal. And I think I wasn´t an equal even before my depression. The depression was just another excuse.

Maybe there is a way out of the “gap dilemma”, though. If I´m showing all sides of me, not merely the comical ones, then maybe I don´t need to worry so much I´m just showing off a false self.



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