There is no point, you’re correct. The problem is, these kind of rants remind me of my friends who either say they want therapy, or needed therapy (though that was probably more severe? Saying they’d be friends with murderers and all that, which is technically fine in right circumstances, but, who the hell talks like that?), or me on lonely, depressing nights.
We don’t have free will. So what? Even if you’re aware of this, that could make you appreciate the complexities life even more, but the whole thing comes off as pessimistic.
Since you mention lonely, depressing nights, I’ll drop the act.
I actively worked to understand the things I wrote because that finally let me forgive myself for not being perfect. I’m the perfectly natural consequence of everything that ever happened, so I had no reason to beat myself up anymore. But of course, the requirement for that realization was to allow others the same grace.
You are exactly right that it made me appreciate the complexity much more. It was much easier to think there was some objective “good” (that I always failed to be), and it definitely was easier to think people I didn’t like were “evil”, instead of coming to the very sad understanding that I could be them if not for luck. But having that understanding doesn’t lead me to depression, it leads me to write bizarre pompous manifestos on Lemmy for fun. And working in health and wellness industry, because I realized also that I’ll never know what could happen, before it has happened (as there’s a difference between determinism and fatalism).
I haven’t had them in a while to be fair, and it was mostly a sideffect of stress elsewhere, like high school.
I did however remember middle school, where after a near-death experience I coped for a while by bothering classmates with similiarly overly dramatic sentences like “You don’t know death as I do”, even if they weren’t nearly as well thought out.
It may have ended up well, especially if all the philosophizing taught me to cope after that (we’ll see), but clearly meeting a psychiatrist would’ve been safer.
oreoreore@lemy.lol 4 days ago
You suggest I see a psychologist, yet psychology confirms my point: we are the products of our neurobiology and our environments.
If you believe there is a part of the human mind that exists outside of cause and effect, I’d love to see the clinical study that located it.
Datz@szmer.info 4 days ago
There is no point, you’re correct. The problem is, these kind of rants remind me of my friends who either say they want therapy, or needed therapy (though that was probably more severe? Saying they’d be friends with murderers and all that, which is technically fine in right circumstances, but, who the hell talks like that?), or me on lonely, depressing nights.
We don’t have free will. So what? Even if you’re aware of this, that could make you appreciate the complexities life even more, but the whole thing comes off as pessimistic.
oreoreore@lemy.lol 4 days ago
Since you mention lonely, depressing nights, I’ll drop the act.
I actively worked to understand the things I wrote because that finally let me forgive myself for not being perfect. I’m the perfectly natural consequence of everything that ever happened, so I had no reason to beat myself up anymore. But of course, the requirement for that realization was to allow others the same grace.
You are exactly right that it made me appreciate the complexity much more. It was much easier to think there was some objective “good” (that I always failed to be), and it definitely was easier to think people I didn’t like were “evil”, instead of coming to the very sad understanding that I could be them if not for luck. But having that understanding doesn’t lead me to depression, it leads me to write bizarre pompous manifestos on Lemmy for fun. And working in health and wellness industry, because I realized also that I’ll never know what could happen, before it has happened (as there’s a difference between determinism and fatalism).
Datz@szmer.info 4 days ago
I haven’t had them in a while to be fair, and it was mostly a sideffect of stress elsewhere, like high school. I did however remember middle school, where after a near-death experience I coped for a while by bothering classmates with similiarly overly dramatic sentences like “You don’t know death as I do”, even if they weren’t nearly as well thought out. It may have ended up well, especially if all the philosophizing taught me to cope after that (we’ll see), but clearly meeting a psychiatrist would’ve been safer.