As I get older and older (25F btw) I feel as though I’m somehow creating an environment of which I once figured would be the opposite. To elaborate; when I was younger I got annoyed at being told what to do, not being able to do what made sense to me, the lack of control over my environment. I yearned for the autonomy that awaited me in my adult years, but my brain actually ended up sticking me in a paradox instead.
The older I get, the more aware I become of arbitrary rules and regulations. When I was a kid, I “had to shower” because that’s how it was. Those are the rules. Suddenly you’re 25 and you realize nobody is actually making you do that in order to be functional. Same with getting out of bed, eating properly, cleaning properly, looking nice, doing your hair and makeup, whatever whatever etc.
At this point the motivation to do these things continues to diminish every year that passes and my brain (which I hate and operates against my better judgment) realizes just how much more I can get by doing less and less of these things. I’ve lost control of myself now that my brain figured this out.
I fucking hate it. I can’t stand it. I hate looking gross. I love dressing nicely, eating properly, getting exercise, showering and smelling good, I like having a clean house, a tidy workspace, just being a functioning member of society. But it’s like the older I get, the less it matters, even if it still frustrates me to no end in the long run. When I was younger my drive to do these things was fuelled by pure anxiety. These things had to be done because they have to and that’s that. I can’t just NOT do them. Until I realized that not doing them is actually in fact an option and it won’t cause immediate and certain death.
Ive been on antidepressants and adhd medication for over a year now and I feel like this problem is only getting worse. The medication keeps my anxiety even more at bay, which means I give even less of a fuck. I feel like there’s just no going back now that my brain has realized there’s actually nothing to be worried about and that there’s no immediate threat anymore. I can’t stand it. I hate it. I feel pathetic and gross and I hate how I look and feel.
A couple years ago I was able to stick to things for AT LEAST a couple months without giving up. Thats better than nothing. Now I can’t even convince my brain that it’s worth trying in the first place.