Posted in Thoughts

Defence Mechanism

I have quite a weird, if not downright questionable, coping technique to reduces my anxiety and stress because of potentially harmful triggers. Or, for short, I have a weird-as-fuck defence mechanism.

Basically, to prevent myself from breaking down because of too many negative thoughts and feelings, I read fanfiction. Which would have been okay and possibly therapeutic if I read lovely fluff ones that make my heart go pitter patter and bring smiles to my face. Yet, given the nature of the my two go-to OTPs – the first one is fairly new because I’ve only fell head over heels for them recently, but the other one is a pairing that I have shipped since before I even know what the fuck OTP is – I usually wound up reading very angsty and heartbreaking fanfictions.

Yet somehow I can’t get enough, and I keep reading more of them, even if they left wounded and broken and in distress over two characters that aren’t even real. Even dearest Ranichop couldn’t help but to laugh when she heard that my coping mechanism was reading Post-Winter Soldier Stucky fanfictions. Because it is ridiculous to drown myself in sorrow when I should be doing just the opposite.

That, I suppose, is precisely why I set it up as my defence mechanism. Not because it’s ridiculous, but because it is a perfect excuse to delve in all the negative feelings without actually dealing with my triggers. I’d be sad and near-depressed, I’d choke on my tears until I couldn’t hold it back any longer, and I’d break down at last. But they, those characters and those beautifully written tragic love stories, were my reasons. I broke down because I was too invested in their fictional life, and not because I can’t cope with my own problems – be it the loneliness or the suffocating pressure and expectations.

And I know it’s unhealthy, know that it’s just a temporary escape that allows me to repressed all my feelings even more instead of actually sorting them out, know that it would only leads to an even bigger emotional toll and an eventual full blown meltdown. But it really is the easy way out and once I start, it’s hard to stop.

Last time, it went on for about a month where I churned at least 100.000 words worth of fanfiction every day. Sure it impaired me, but in the grand scheme I was still able to work, to actively participated in conversation and prompting acquaintances, and I was far more productive in watching series and movies and writing reviews of them then compared to I am now. Emotions, after all, are crippling. Even more so when it’s a messy whirlwind that exhaust you until you’re worse for wear.

However, it has been roughly three weeks since I last read a fanfiction because “real-life” was taking its toll on me. Seriously, after I went on an unplanned sweet escape, my personal life turned into an increasingly dramatical soap opera in regards to a specific circle. And few others as cherry on top. But that one was both the trigger and, in a way, the salvation. And after recent turns of event, I’m pretty much resigned to the fact that no matter how this clusterfuck plays out, there will not be any positive outcome – only more mess.

And I’ve been doing my damnedest to cope in a healthy way. I’ve been writing – which is where the constant streams of stolen confession and unsubtle anger masked as fictions and entries for National Blog Post Month came from. I’ve gone out, talk to my friends, even developed another unhealthy coping mechanism as failsafe because my unholy thoughts are running rampant. But now I’m just numb and while it allows me to take a step back and reevaluate everything from the distance, I wound up not being able to make myself care all that much anymore and is exasperated most of the time.

So last night, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I would most probably end up walking away from this increasingly unhealthy circle, even if some of them are more than alright on my personal level. Or how some of the tags in this blog were dedicated to few individuals involved in this fucked up theatric.

 

And I’ve started reading again.

 

 

 

À la mort,

After all, it’s better to leave than to be replaced.

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Author:

An emotionally invested enthusiast of pop culture. Apathetic by design. Aesthetically offensive and eloquently candid. A sentimental heathen.

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