Why My Perspective Is Completely Unreliable — And The Hijacking Of My Emotions

Sometimes, I feel averse to everything I’ve written, done, and worked on. But maybe I’ll hold off on pulling the trigger on any big decisions.

I’ve Had A Bad Day

Today, I was not feeling good at all. I didn’t get enough sleep, so I was tired. During my unconsciousness, I was recalling some negative memories. And my heart was pounding while doing so.

Also, I was going to resume work on one of my projects this month. So the pressures and worries about all that came up again. And through my fatigued state, I was also forcing myself to do some volunteer work as well.

I was feeling absolutely terrible. To the point where I was contemplating existence and whether I should even continue.

I got to a point where I eventually said — screw it. I’m not going to do myself any good stressing myself to death in this state. So I called it quits, brought out my VR headset, and watched some YouTube.

Usually, social media would skyrocket my stress even further. But unlike before when I’d just scroll endlessly, I searched for the exact videos I wanted to watch and ignored the algorithmic bombardment.

I was doing much better by the end of the hour. That pit in my stomach had gone, leaving me with only a feeling of lightness. And so next, I went for a walk outside.

However, during that walk, I began having flashbacks to moments of my childhood. I was again ruminating on the negative experiences I had. And quickly, my mind started grumbling.

“*expletive expletive* *grumble grumble*”

The cherry on top, I had what felt like an awkward moment. And of course, being me, anything that can even remotely be perceived as weird means that my life is over.

“That other person hates you and you’re a terrible person. They’re wondering what the heck is wrong with you and probably think you’re some wanted fugitive.

That’s what you get for breathing barely audibly as you were passing by them.”

— My Brain

Now I feel agonizingly crap again. Maybe after I take this second break, I’ll feel good again. But if someone were to ask me how I’m feeling today… it’s hard to say, really.

I’m certainly feeling… stuff. That’s all I can say for sure.

(One break later…)

Yeah, seems like the good stuff has diminishing effects. Plus, I might have to do a phone call soon, and I know how stress-free and relaxing those are. So I’m not feeling much better.

But these words won’t write themselves, so let’s continue anyway.

I’ve bounced between two polar opposite states of mind multiple times during this time. From agony and internal suffering, to relaxation and contentedness, and back again, all within a single evening.

I’d be stuck in the negative phase for much longer when I was younger. Getting over an unpleasant encounter, for example, would take a few days at least. More often than not, it would bother me in my sleep for weeks, even months after the fact.

Some minor run-ins still evoke this surge of frustration and anger to this day. It’s those memories that are fuelling my current emotional downtrend.

I’ve always wanted to learn how to “get over” all this so I can live my life in peace. To stop obsessing over these things that hardly matter in the big picture.

I’ve thought rather sensitively throughout my life. Perhaps it’s simply how my brain is wired, whatever that even means. But it does feel like my perception is changing. As aforementioned, I can usually bounce back from a low a lot quicker.

Maybe it’s due to how fast time flies by compared to my younger days. Or maybe I’ve finally hit that critical mass of negatives for each one to start diluting in impact. I can’t say for sure.

But I notice this phenomenon. Because the days have begun to meld together, the feeling of a “day” has also become blurred. As a result, that fresh start I had before can now be felt multiple times within the same temporal day.

I’ve been able to remember the whole cycle now because of this. Through this observation, I’ve started to notice how arbitrary the reasons behind these feelings are.

I’m starting to question the motivations behind the spontaneous reactions that result from them. Whether I should be so hasty to act on them.

And what the true source of these emotions is.

What I Feel

A few days ago, I did something that I’ve read you should never do. I looked at some of my old writings, felt this massive void develop within me, and made the decision to delete them.

At the time, the reason was simply because they made me feel bad. I didn’t know exactly what caused it, but I assumed that the topics were ridiculous and my writing was simply embarrassing.

It’s only in hindsight that I can say the decision wasn’t wrong. That isn’t to say it was right either. I don’t think there’s a correct or incorrect; it’s simply a choice I made. But I know that I had reasons for doing so.

I thought about what my motives were with writing. What I wanted to achieve through doing so. And I believe what it was, was to document my thoughts and experiences as an emotional outlet.

The facets of the life I live as I continue to navigate this world. With all the struggles and triumphs that come with it.

(Insert some other poetic jargon here.)

However, not every writing aligned with that motive. Some were about inconsequential events that held little significance on their own. Those accounts could be combined with other smaller thoughts in a longer, broader, and more meaningful article.

Some focused too much on external influences rather than my personal aspect. They didn’t keep the scope of the narrative to “I.” So I hit the red button on those.

A lot of articles I wrote in April were because I simply felt compelled to write. After all, at that time, I read all these claims that you had to post consistently. Quantity is important, yadda yadda.

I didn’t know what I truly wanted out of this activity. I fixated on that vision of having tons of people reading my stuff, with all the supposed accolades and glory that come with it, and possibly even making some bucks off of it.

So I wrote pieces like guides, opinions, and satire, despite not feeling super comfortable doing so. It was largely for the sake of writing something to publish. They’re gone now.

In another one of my earlier articles, I felt I was not being myself. While I don’t agree with there being a single notion of “being myself,” I certainly felt that I was trying a bit too hard.

So I 86'ed that one from the menu as well.

Finally, some writings made me think… why am I documenting this in the first place? Why do I want to remember this? And why do I want to use public writing to do so, as opposed to other forms of personal, private media I already have?

Were these writings truly motivated by documentation of my own experiences? Or was there still a desire for the ever-addictive, arbitrary stat-rising the internet entices?

I of course wouldn’t mind having my thoughts heard; otherwise, I’d just write in a diary. But for that to be the main reason… and for that motive to change how I’d naturally speak or act… well, then it’s not documentation anymore, is it?

I believe I had valid reasons for deleting those pieces. And so I don’t have any regrets.

But I can see how things could’ve gone quite wrong.

The Worst Part About My Work

As I was performing this deletion frenzy, I was reading some of my other articles as well. Since I was already in a negative state, I’d surmise that it was easier to dislike my other works as well.

And so despite not fitting into any of the aforementioned criteria for removal, I couldn’t help but feel bad about them. It was making me feel this sense of dread.

Once again, I was contemplating self-destructing everything. Everything I had written was terrible to me. Like I was talking way in over my head. And it invoked this feeling as though the entire world had seen me trip and fall into a puddle of mud.

Nevertheless, I didn’t pull the trigger. I thought to myself — let’s wait this out. I’ll gather evidence regarding the arbitrary irrationality of these thoughts, and prove that it’s just a phase of a cycle.

Because as I’ve said, I’ve noticed these drastic swings to the polar extremes. And so I was starting to challenge these very notions.

Lo and behold, by evening come, my emotional pendulum had swung back to the other side, and I was doing exuberantly… alright, I guess. I hopped back onto this site and read one of my old works.

Not so bad anymore. It’s aight.

One could say that it was all inside my head. However, I don’t think that’s the only factor in the equation. There were indeed changes that affected my perception of my writing.

But most of it had nothing to do with my writing.

At least, not in the way I’d thought.

I’ve come to see how little things can have a huge impact on my perception, even if I never consciously “notice” them. That’s also why it took so long to figure out.

When I switched around the ordering or removed an unnecessary word, a lot of those negative emotions went away. But all I’d done was change the phrasing to “I did this” instead of “I actually did this.”

By doing so, I’d made the writing more concise, and to me, better to read. But that tiny little difference was how I distinguished between “utterly terrible” and “pretty good to me.”

So one has to beg the question of whether the initial thought was an overreaction. At least in regard to the holistic aspect.

The old version was technically worse. But the ideas remained the same. And my voice generally remained the same. Because I couldn’t determine the cause, I was attributing the discomfort from syntax to the entire work as a concept itself.

This misattribution wasn’t limited to syntactics. The feelings from having a bad day could fuse with perceptions of my work. In a sense, everything in my life seems to be interconnected through my emotions.

And so if one area declines, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say the others would too.

But to the contrary, if one area appreciates, all the others should as well. And that is where I’ve observed the “hijacking” of my emotions through unrelated means in a positive manner.

When I read that old article again in the evening, there were environmental differences. Particularly, because it was nighttime, I had a dark mode extension turned on to avoid blasting my eyes out.

It was the same text I’d read moments prior. But with this change in aesthetics and context, my perception had completely transformed. While I can’t say for certain, this is what I’d assume.

Inverted text may cause halation, but that visual effect also makes the font look bolded. This makes it pop out and seem more assertive to me.

Reading comprehension may be lower with white text on a black background. But that seems to put me into a similar state of consciousness as when I first write an article. That contemplative, spaced-out sort of vibe where I don’t have to think about… anything.

I just do whatever almost automatically.

I often use dark mode because it feels comfortable. And so perhaps that feeling, in combination with all the others, was projected onto my work.

Therefore, I felt better about it.

Here’s another anecdote. I was going through my latest game’s script, line by line, as one would expect from a visual novel-type game. But once again, something was making me feel like the writing was terrible.

Perhaps again, it’s the syntax that I’m yet to correct. After all, I only recently figured out that piece of the puzzle. But after playing around, I found that context can also make a huge difference.

I read a line of monologue or narration, like…

Today is a bright and beautiful day.

But as I read, it felt bland. A monotonous droning of exposition.

However, I eventually tried adding a speaker label to these monologue portions. And it made a big difference to me.

Justin
(Today is a bright and beautiful day.)

I think attaching a speaker added character. And so that voice can utilize all the mannerisms, personality, and other traits related to that person.

Therefore, this line felt more engaging without changing anything about the writing itself. But I’d misattributed my feelings about that to what was most easily identifiable: the writing and the game as a whole.

The truth was, there was a way to overcome these uneasy feelings. Most of the time, they were not an indication of the entire work being intrinsically terrible.

At worst, there were some issues to resolve. Identifying those was the difficult part; making the improvements was relatively simple. But as demonstrated, my perception could transform without changing a single thing.

And that’s something I need to be wary of before making any decisions.

Rewriting The Past

My past is one completely immutable thing. Unlike work I can revise and edit years down the line, whatever happens in my life can’t be unexperienced or altered.

Sometimes these negative experiences come up in my thoughts, as aforementioned. But I’m beginning to realize that some of these recollections are straight-up fabrications.

Let’s say I’m thinking back to my high school days. As I’ve documented, these were not good times for me. But to say that in an absolute sense isn’t accurate. There were a few nice moments toward the end.

However, perhaps because of negativity bias, that entire memory group is hijacked by all the awful experiences I had at that time. And so it just becomes “high school sucked.”

This effect applies to all other areas of my life. I only remember the harrowing mistakes I’ve made. And they devolve into these ever-worsening assumptions to the point where I feel like I’ve committed a war crime.

The Spiral

“I accidentally said something that came out wrong during a conversation, out of 80 other times where I spoke fine.”

“I accidentally said something that came out wrong during a conversation.”

“I said something wrong during a conversation.”

“I insulted someone.”

“I actively insulted someone and made them to feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t deserve friends and should be alone for the rest of my life.”

To say that I haven’t made any major mistakes in my life would be inaccurate. Some of these feelings are warranted. But there’s no tough lesson or self-realization with many other thoughts I’ve had.

For those, it’s simply paralysis through vicious self-demonization. Sealing all hopes to traverse the path forward. All over an incomplete picture that borders on a lie by omission. If it’s not exactly that already.

It really goes to show how truly unreliable my perspective is. To the point where it’s become an active endeavor to reexpose those nuggets of truth and recover that balanced view.

From that perspective, I believe there’s a mix of positive, negative, and everything in between. I don’t think anything in my life has been as cut and dry as I imagined. So what decisions I make should be grounded in that — what actually is.

But that’s not always something I can see.
So let’s not push the big red button just yet.

Confidence and Normalcy

This unreliability is largely demonstrated through my transformation over the past 22 — nearing 23 years of my life. Particularly, it’s done so regarding how I felt during those periods.

The deep void I feel when looking at my older works, and by extension the ideas I had then, is a quintessential example of this phenomenon.

Looking through the lens of today, I see a lot of glaring flaws at best. At worst, I had some ideas that were ultimately regressive for me. Stuff that makes me want to travel back in time and dropkick my younger self for thinking and doing.

But the kicker (pun intended) is this. If there’s one thing that remains consistent between that time and now, it’s that everything felt normal.

Okay, maybe not completely. I’m sure there were some reservations and unease I had. But because I couldn’t pinpoint the source, I again attributed them to irrational anxiety, perhaps mistakenly.

I feel the same sense of normalcy now that I did a few years ago. The same goes for 3 years before that. And even 5 years before that.

Despite having a starkly different palette, set of beliefs, and whatnot, it doesn’t feel like I’m a whole new person. At least not until I think about it, and it’s contextualized with the other versions of myself from the past.

My level of normalcy, or lack thereof, only becomes apparent with a reference point.

One that itself can be arbitrary.

When I was little, I never got the memo that Pluto wasn’t a planet anymore. And so it felt normal to call it that. It was only years later, when I learned of that fact, that my perception of that notion transformed from “normal” to “wrong.”

The essays I was writing at the time felt good to me. After all, I was getting good marks on it. The words fit together well, and the points were well made. At least that’s what I thought.

But after a couple of years, I’m in high school. I’ve gained more insight into topics I had before. Once again, my perception of my ideas changed from “well-formed” to “childish” and “naive.”

As for my then current notions, they were “normal” and “mature.”
Maybe I had doubts that they were right. But that unease was normal too.

Now I’m another couple of years older. And I’ve learned even more about myself and the world I live in. Those “normal” ideas I had before now seem asinine. And of course, what I currently think and do feels normal. Despite the vast difference, it all feels “right” in the same way it did before.

But who’s to say that this cycle won’t repeat? Perhaps these very words I’m writing make me sound like a troglodyte to my future self. If so, I’ll only find out in due time.

This aversion to my past selves and what I did then comes from the dissonance between then and today. Maybe it starts with small changes, but those continue to add up.

Eventually, I’m looking back at a stranger.

One I just can’t relate with at all. Maybe one I even detest.

I’ve lost my emotional attachment to all my ideas and thoughts at the time. And I’m left with an icky feeling about these things that may no longer represent me now — particularly if they’ve been detrimental.

And so all those relics of my former selves are shunned and exiled. They’re terrible, they’re idiotic, and I want nothing to do with them ever again. That’s the perception I have of my past.

I’ve felt that the past is always portrayed in a rather cynical light. History, from what I’ve seen, largely seems to be about the terrible things that happened then, and how everything is better now. And then time moves forward — now that time is considered awful. But things are better now.

And the cycle continues. So maybe that angle I’ve internalized throughout my academic years (and the internet, of course) has affected my perception.

I was feeling weird about my past work again. Writings from only months ago. Everything was awful. But the thing is, I hadn’t even opened them to read. Just by looking at the existence of my past, I was assuming it was nothing but outdated ideas and poor techniques.

Once I took time to look at them properly, they didn’t make my face scrunch up. Maybe it’s because the changes I’ve gone through in 5 months haven’t been drastic enough for me to feel alienated.

I was still self-conscious about some of my accounts. I wondered whether I was venting too much. But at least for now, there’s nothing that makes me feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.

I made progress on my second game this week. It’s been at least 4 months since I’ve gotten anything significant done. As aforementioned, I’ve pinpointed some issues in my writing on Medium. That has been helpful with writing fiction as well.

So technically, the work was outdated. But I quickly fixed the syntax by applying what I learned.

And you know, despite a lot of the words being months old, they still feel pretty decent to me. The storyboarding and visuals feel right. I think much which was subconsciously affecting me has been resolved.

This is one of the first times this has happened to me. Well, I’ve “liked” my work before. But that was when my emotions were as stable as a radioactive isotope.

Then, it was either a “literal god-like creation descended from the heavens” or “complete garbage and I should give up on even living anymore.”

I feel I’ve mellowed out. Well, relatively speaking. I’m a teensy bit more confident in my ability to work toward an objective view. I feel decent about my work, not in a forceful, egomaniacal way, but more with this relieved contentedness.

I just kinda think to myself…

“Hm. Nice. Not bad, I guess.”

Maybe this time I really have done it. Perhaps after 7+ years, I’ve finally ironed out all the major problems with my work, and I’m simply in refinement mode at this point. Or maybe this is yet another delusion of mine, and there are still more ledges left to jump from this abyss.

Perhaps in another 2 years' time, I’ll want to punch my guts in for what I’ve written and created today. I feel like I’ve gotten to a good point. I feel this time is different. But that’s what I thought 3 years ago.

And 4 years before that. And 5 years before that.

A perceived need to prove oneself was the cause of many of my mistakes. To “stand up for oneself” and be “confident.” The pressure of always needing to do or think something. And to be “real.” All of that jargon I decided to blindly subscribe to. Mix that with the volatile angst I once had and it was not a good result.

There was a reason why “confidence” at the time had to be forced. I wasn’t confident at all. And I shouldn’t have been. They were works that had major flaws or topics I had no expertise in.

But I hadn’t been aware of them at the time. Well, I was aware in a few cases but refused the notion. Because if I wasn’t confident, I was weak. I was useless. And everything I once believed in would be proven as a sham.

While my feelings and perspective are unreliable,
that doesn’t mean they’re reliably wrong.

I’ve figured a lot out in that time. And so there’s a lot less that bothers me about my work. I feel somewhat confident — not from forcing myself because I read I had to be confident, but because I can actually be somewhat content with what I’ve done. Or if not, I’m somewhat confident that I can work to resolve my issues and get to that point eventually.

I try not to be something I’m not anymore. Nor do I force myself to do something or have thoughts on something just because I’m “supposed to.” I’ve made progress in resisting pressuring fears by doing what feels right for me.

My writings here, as aforementioned, have had their scope largely restricted to “I.” My experiences and my feelings — little if anything else. That is the area I have the most expertise in — “I.”

That isn’t to say I’m not still learning more. There’s much I’m yet to figure out about this cryptic subject. But there shouldn’t be a single person in the universe that knows more about being me than I do.

And so that is something I can be confident in talking about.
Naturally so, without even needing to try.

I’m sure new information will come to light in time. In this subject and many others as well. I’ll feel that same pain of dissonance I’ve felt countless times before when it does.

I might have the urge to demolish everything about my past. I might view it in that starkly cynical light I’ve become conditioned to. But I don’t think I’m going to let myself do it from this point on.

Because I do believe one thing is different. And perhaps it’ll be the one to break this cycle.

As long as I’m being true to myself, focusing only on myself, and doing the best I can for myself — focusing on nothing else and no one else — I don’t think there’s any reason to be embarrassed by where I’ve come from.

And this isn’t something I need to try, nor should I. Just as confidence came naturally when conditions were right, actively trying to “be myself” will only ensure the opposite. To be me simply means to be.

That’s something I haven’t done for most of my life. I’ve only recently figured this out. But I’ve started now. I’ll keep working on getting better at everything that makes “me,” leaving behind a trail of fragments from that endeavor.

Hopefully, that should be something I can rely on. Something I can be content with.