I’ve never realised how much my identity is tied up into how I perform in the working environment and today proved that I have a lot of self esteem invested in this identity. It really is quite appalling how I can so readily condemn myself for not being able to live up to the expectation that “I” set. I presume that this high standard is the norm, however in reality I suspect that the bar is set so high that it is impossible for anyone to live up to let alone myself. Sure I can make improvements but I’m struggling to make any improvement while my enthusiasm is slumping. Today I realised that I had made a mistake that I possibly shouldn’t have made but in my mind the course of action I set upon was based on sound logic, however as it turned out it was wrong. Automatically my already depressed state plummeted further into the abyss and try as I might I just couldn’t resist the urge to start with the negative self appraisal.

It’s a common thing, these automatic negative thoughts, I know where it stems from but it is so difficult for me to stop it once the process has started. I’ll remind myself of whether the self deprecatory dialogue is actually beneficial or is it really just a method to punish myself for not being perfect. Of course it is the latter and I remind myself to stop it but the ever persistent inner voice persuades me to continue with the diatribe of self hatred. The consequence is not at all pleasant but the little demon within seems to revel in such monstrous and monotonous conversation. I’ve managed to stop the “voice of the wretched” for the time being and it took some hours for me to finally put it to rest. It still is lurking in the back brain waiting for the morn to revive and begin a new assault.

This identity that is enslaved to a system that I don’t even like is the most disturbing part of the absurdness. Work is just a tiny part of who I am and for some reason I feel compelled to magnify its significance to the be all and end all of where I begin and end. In truth, the only reason I get up in the morning and travel the hour it takes for me to sit in front of a screen is to make a few dollars so I can buy food, pay rent, the other necessities of life and have some extra for toys and amusements. Do I like it? No. I’d much rather not have to go and do something that for the most part is numbingly repetitive and boring. But I’m too afraid to let go of it and travel a new path. Or I’m too “trained” into domesticated slavery to leave it behind. I’m dependant on it for the things that I don’t necessarily need but that which I feel compelled to have, to escape mundane reality and feel an illusory validation. That’s the madness of it all, I keep thinking that all the luxuries and possessions I acquire determines my value as a human being and these are the least of what defines my value. I could have the world but what would that leave me? I would still desire more to relieve the existential abyss. The value I possess is precisely because I exist, that I am alive and am able to give something, even if it is a small amount to other human beings who share the same existential awareness. That is what is truly important, however it somehow takes second place to an illusion.

Will I upset myself tomorrow – probably. I will more than likely fall again into the same dialogue that plagued my day today. Will I remember that what I’m doing is not the most important thing in my world – I hope so.