Why don’t I do things I enjoy?
By: past me.
I am a person who looks at my motivations so hard, they often disappear out of fright.
I am a person who eventually, sometimes out of raw exhaustion with the rest of my life, gives up almost every new pursuit. This has led me to just stop trying things, so at least giving up is rare.
More frequently, I give up a new pursuit because I forget that I enjoyed it. When I’m done with the new pursuit, it becomes cheapened in my memory. I am not used to competing, and everyone hates to lose. Usually when starting, things are hard, and it’s easy to lose. My results are bad, so this diminishes the activity in my memory, even if I liked it.
I attach the bad feelings I have about myself to the activity. This looks like this: If you ask me how the activity was, I’ll tell you that it might have been a fun activity if I wasn’t doing it – but if I was there, it would by definition be bad. It was bad because it had to happen with me in it.
Even worse is when I am great at an activity. I recollect all of the past times I’ve been “meh” or “okay” or “complete failure” at something, and I figure, I’ve done a whole lot of not celebrating in my life. I’ve lost a lot. So I’m gonna get most of my celebration out right now.
The problem is, when it comes from this place of revenge, something inside me has also been angry about it for a long time, so it can come out kind of mean-spirited. Not a fan.
This quitting of everything I could possibly do for fun leaves a lingering sadness inside when I am not dancing, or practicing archery, or strategizing about a game, or creating music, or laughing, or anything but obsessing or ruminating or re-thinking over trivial situations while we let our minds or souls starve.
The malfunction is with my memory.
A computer is mostly useless without its memory.
Yet my skills are often independent of memory.
My muscle memory is not malfunctioning.
It is only
me my executive function that seems to lack access to the memories and knowledge I possess. The knowledge in the moment, when it matters, that lets me be my best me. The knowledge that says to curb my impulses. To save my resources.
There is no reason that a thinking being should have to live with this schism inside, this knowing what I should be doing, and watching myself do the opposite.
But the only way to deal with it seems to be to pause. To notice when I do it. To say why it is wrong. To eventually say it in so many ways that it loses its potency. Then it becomes automatic. Then me being good – it becomes automatic.
Major problem: other people’s habits affect me. They cling to me.
Major benefit: other people’s habits affect me. They boost me up.
PS: Future me would like to hear your comments, have you share and like this, and generally interact.