What I learned from My Tolerance Break

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when I was younger contributed to that isolation. I did not go out and discover my own interests or peer groups. My focus ensured that my father would not be dead at home while my family was out at work and school, respectively.Compounding his medical issues were the psychological issues that came from the incident. Being Black and medically compromised added to the stigma of our being. It wasn’t just that he was a Black man. He was a sick Black man. And the system would rather have us dead or minimally functioning, so long as profits could be made.Years of our family only relying upon ourselves would take a psychological and economic toll. Even when all four of us supported each other, we barely scraped by. We had a roof over our heads and food in the house, but that was about it.If all we had was each other, why did I feel so alone? I developed my own interests, but I did not have a peer group to explore said interests until my mid to late twenties. And now I constantly compare myself to others my age or younger because I don’t like who I am currently.<h1 id="0ea8">I still don’t know who I want to be, and it scares me every day</h1>I’m thirty and doing a job that allows me to be paid from home. And I’m still unhappy. A job will never make me happy. Titles will never make me happy. BEING RENTED WILL NEVER MAKE ME HAPPY, but that is all that is promised with my position. I hate my job title. I hate answering the phone and droning the same help desk script for eight hours a day. I’m tired of the same questions being asked every day. I am living my hell.I kno

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w I shouldn’t be doing this with my life, but we’re socialized to make ourselves useful for the cheapest price. What even is useful, and who demands we be useful for what purpose? Why am I toiling my time for a false promise of success? If I’m always unhappy about being employed for others, what happens when I can’t even work for myself?The returns on my writings are for a pittance because I don’t know what people want. And it’s driving me insane. I’m going to be trapped being what others want me to be and not myself. I don’t want that life.Every time I get one step closer to who I want to be, several dozen things pull trying to make me into something else. WHY WON’T LIFE JUST LET ME CHOSE?<h1 id="36a5">I isolate and abuse drugs to escape obligation</h1>I hate myself for being obligated to others. I will never be happy, nor can I falsely tolerate the concept as ‘normal’. Normal doesn’t work for me. Taking things day by day has only resulted in mental burnout, and this torturous cycle starts all over again. I know I feel like a loser even though I shouldn’t. I don’t want to feel ‘grateful for being in precarious employment for another decade. I’m afraid to find happiness through ‘others’, because of the past. I’m still hung up on my past, and that’s why I use.I use so I can run away and not have to deal with my life feeling like a disappointment.I guess I’m still running.Originally published at <a href="https://afropolymath.com/what-i-learned-from-my-tolerance-break/">http://afropolymath.com</a> on March 22, 2021.</article></body>

AfroPolymath

Last week, my blog posts revolved around my cessation of substance abuse for seven days. The substances THC and caffeine had been part of my daily routine since the start of the pandemic. Relying on these substances, however, was masking deeper personality issues that I had been avoiding for some time. This post will attempt to identify what I’ve learned about myself without having drugs to assuage the negative feelings about my life.

I am a very lonely person; even among people, I think I like

Without the drugs to salve the anguish of existing, I will turn to isolation rather than seek comfort within others. This is the worst possible thing I can do in such a situation, but I have this mental block that prevents me from reaching out for help when I require it the most. I know that I have friends and family who care about me. I know they would like to know how I’m doing and that I can reach out to them, but that is how insidious this mental block is.

My mind will always rationalize being alone as the safest course of action because I haven’t addressed past trauma from social situations. I believe my father getting chronically ill when I was younger contributed to that isolation. I did not go out and discover my own interests or peer groups. My focus ensured that my father would not be dead at home while my family was out at work and school, respectively.

Compounding his medical issues were the psychological issues that came from the incident. Being Black and medically compromised added to the stigma of our being. It wasn’t just that he was a Black man. He was a sick Black man. And the system would rather have us dead or minimally functioning, so long as profits could be made.

Years of our family only relying upon ourselves would take a psychological and economic toll. Even when all four of us supported each other, we barely scraped by. We had a roof over our heads and food in the house, but that was about it.

If all we had was each other, why did I feel so alone? I developed my own interests, but I did not have a peer group to explore said interests until my mid to late twenties. And now I constantly compare myself to others my age or younger because I don’t like who I am currently.

I still don’t know who I want to be, and it scares me every day

I’m thirty and doing a job that allows me to be paid from home. And I’m still unhappy. A job will never make me happy. Titles will never make me happy. BEING RENTED WILL NEVER MAKE ME HAPPY, but that is all that is promised with my position. I hate my job title. I hate answering the phone and droning the same help desk script for eight hours a day. I’m tired of the same questions being asked every day. I am living my hell.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this with my life, but we’re socialized to make ourselves useful for the cheapest price. What even is useful, and who demands we be useful for what purpose? Why am I toiling my time for a false promise of success? If I’m always unhappy about being employed for others, what happens when I can’t even work for myself?

The returns on my writings are for a pittance because I don’t know what people want. And it’s driving me insane. I’m going to be trapped being what others want me to be and not myself. I don’t want that life.

Every time I get one step closer to who I want to be, several dozen things pull trying to make me into something else. WHY WON’T LIFE JUST LET ME CHOSE?

I isolate and abuse drugs to escape obligation

I hate myself for being obligated to others. I will never be happy, nor can I falsely tolerate the concept as ‘normal’. Normal doesn’t work for me. Taking things day by day has only resulted in mental burnout, and this torturous cycle starts all over again. I know I feel like a loser even though I shouldn’t. I don’t want to feel ‘grateful for being in precarious employment for another decade. I’m afraid to find happiness through ‘others’, because of the past. I’m still hung up on my past, and that’s why I use.

I use so I can run away and not have to deal with my life feeling like a disappointment.

I guess I’m still running.

Originally published at http://afropolymath.com on March 22, 2021.