Self-Indulgence (An Unnecessary Apology)

For the longest time, I thought about writing a blog. Again. I had one once, previous to this one. I decided it was stupid, self-indulgent, and eventually, I forgot the password. So it's gone forever.

Still, I put off writing another blog because I felt ashamed of how all I would be writing about would be about me, my thoughts, observations, and feelings. It just seemed so egotistical. Also, my thoughts about people caring about me or my new blog can be summed up in this handy meme:

But where did this aversion to indulge in myself come from? I think Catholic Guilt™, among, other things may have attributed to my shame/guilt complex.

However, I had to look at this rationally. Here's a list of rational reasons as to why it's okay for me to talk about myself on my own blog that you are ready on your own free will:

1. Everyone is at least a little self-indulgent and I'm no exception.
2. Writing is a healthier outlet to express my thoughts rather than force feeding people's ears with my words.
3. The Facebook is not really the outlet to use in this kind of blogging situation. 
4. I felt like it. 

That number four is a little disconcerting. Not only because having four things on a list seems off kilter (there's comfort in lists that are either 3 items long or in multiples of 5), but because I was allowing myself to do something that I wanted to do. 

The idea of denying thyself has been both overtly and covertly drilled into my head. Perhaps the earliest exposure I had of consciously acknowledging the idea of denying thyself was in Catholic grade school. During Lent season we would give something up, like candy, as a sign of humility. Or some bullshit like that.

But somehow, the idea of sacrifice stuck with me.

I've been denying myself many good things and eventually it became part of my identity. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't doing it to better myself or to practice humility. It was because I just felt like I didn't deserve anything good. When I did allow myself good things to happen to me or pursued happiness, it just was followed by guilt. Oh, then followed by self-loathing. Can't forget the self-loathing.

Eventually, my mantra became: if I don't feel like shit, then something is wrong with me.

When your default emotional state is nothing but depression, guilt, and self-loathing, anything outside of that seems weird. It's uncomfortable and alien. You see, there's a sense of familiarity and reliability when it comes to feeling depressed, guilty, and/or self-loathing. I can just sit in my apartment, all alone, listen to sad music and ruminate about how terrible my life is (it's not). I can be the martyr I've always wanted to be, bearing everybody's sadness on my shoulders. Ugh.

The consequence of all this is that I continue this cycle, I stay sad, and life goes on. But that's just it. Life just goes on with or without me being sad. That's just shitty. I don't want shitty anymore. I really don't.

So that's what this blog is about: me, documenting my shittiness, in order to minimize future shittiness by looking back on my shittiness, and learning not to repeat that shittiness. What could possibly go worng wrong?