Fishing for Confidence

Who would have thought that recording a podcast about Super Smash Brothers would help my mental health

I'm not as emotionally stable as I thought I was. I like to think it's just an age thing, and that every 23 year old is in a constant flux of enthusiasm and despair. Not that I wish this sort of discomfort on anybody, but it'd be nice to know that other people are equally fucked up.

Truthfully, I'm not doing that bad. Things are still where they were, no tragedy has befallen me, my finances are fine, most things are normal. What set me off yesterday was of such little consequence, such silliness in perspective that I'm almost embarrassed to talk about it. Lo and behold, I mentioned it while the recording light was on, and soon enough it will be out there for the world to judge. I guess I'm okay with that.

The short of it was that a house tournament called "Brooklyn Kumite 2" went down this sunday and I was brought on as a commentator. I was excited for the opportunity to get on the mic, have fun with the other invitees, play some games, entertain, commentate, watch good melee. Unfortunately, we were ill equipped to handle 4 people on a couch talking into a mic, and it was replaced with a room mic. We also didn't have a webcam on us at any point. I'm not sure when it really happened, since I got pretty drunk all day,  but an anxiety started to bubble up in me and come Monday morning I was a nervous wreck of self doubt and insecurity. I reconsidered everything I had done to this point, compared myself to other people constantly, and had several bouts of panic about where any of this was headed. They weren't even fully fledged thoughts, no real questions of my motives or the possibility of my passions, zero clue of why I felt the way I did. I felt guilt about the anxiety, that my obligation was to bring about positivity, that my job was to have fun and participate, and that I was failing those around me.  It sucked, it really did.

So I brought this up to Will last night, I don't really remember everything from the conversation, but I felt like some healing was done already. I didn't come up with any, like, solutions, but for now I'm relieved. I came to realize that writing is what I'm drawn to, it's what I actually enjoy. There's precedent for being a writer, not so much some other things. Not to say it's easy.

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Next day.. Feeling, better?

I'm lucky to have these quick dips into the void, rather than long and drawn out soaks. I have my support system, stability in my relationship and job, and legitimately solid creative endeavors. I don't have a lot to ache for, unless I reach too hard in front of me. Then I metaphorical shoulder of ambition.

I'm not going to fault myself for feeling the way I did. There's no real lesson to be learned by self flagellation, no joy in it either. If there's one thing I've improved on over the years its the degree to which I criticize myself. That's to say I've eased up how often it happens, as well as how badly it hurts. I can't really be too mad at myself for how I handled my melancholic episode, since I allowed it to be where I was at and didn't try to force myself out of it. I wrote, I worked, I drove home and listened to Radiohead while laying in bed at 7 pm. That's the good-sad stuff, the single glass of wine while watching a favorite show. Instead of listing off all of my obligations, or the opposite, ignoring them completely, I allowed them to pop up in my head and let them drift off. Should they come back, fine. I need to handle it eventually, so I appreciate how they pop up from time to time to annoy me.

In other news, I was given an opportunity to submit articles to a well-established eSports brand for their website, so I'm going to do that. That's good. It's a good start.

No idea what the style will be, who I will become when representing something bigger than myself, but I'm sure it will be a good learning experience. Okay, that's it. Time to get to work.