Essential me

1. Yesterday I heard a bit from Marie. I mentioned the university society that I am involved with that I got dethroned from (well, more like a not being president thing). She (in my former position) is organising an event; it pains me so much to see her occupying the seat which I once had. I am a little bit angry; at her? not her individually, but its hard not to find expression to this feeling in a way that manifests itself towards a way that associates resent to her actions there. I then feel resent at myself for feeling resent at her; then I want to purge. Also adde dto that is the feeling of inadequacy to the guy who took president; he's better than me in every way. I am nothing compared to him...
2. Before I feel a triggering occuring, I shall now ponder upon a thing that happened today. Went to the student GP. New guy this time, don't know why, it was the admin staff's decision, don't care. Okay things we talked about were: painkillers, being angry at a previous doctor cos she got my hopes up; the loser doctor saying how it makes him feel uncomfortable about hte way I am talking. I did not mean to express resentment to him in the way I did with the psychiatrists who hurt me. But, it's sort of a kneejerk thing; he's a doctor and I will treat him with scrutiny. I don't think I was able to express to thim this feeling; I tried to use polite and descriptive terms.
3. The feeling I felt was that in feburary I called the GP for a doctor's note for an extension for an essay; the doctor emphasised that she could help and that she would medicate me in a way that would be helpful, trying to assure me. Funny enough she was the first doctor who I contacted when this whole mentalhealth ordeal started. Do I feel anything about it? No, well, maybe just that I found her partially sexually attractive; now I don't care. I don't care if doctors are good. They are supposed to be! They are Doctor's not GNVQ holders or Magisters. I only get rattled if they are not doing their job
4. Went to counselling today; told the guy about my ordeal. I was talking and talking and talking. The thing I like aobut counselling is that I can swear and stuff. And I also elaborate, in a way that makes it presentable to a stranger, or a person not familiar with my biography, a story about me, and what is happening with me, from scratch. I used to fantasise, during times when I was in great pain, what it would be like to explain the whole workings of my life in a way wherewhich a stranger would come to know me. I would be, as the narrator, in a priviledged yet potentially biased situation; I tell the story of my life in the way that I want to; I keep control of the world I try to pain when I tell them the story; I emphasise some things and maybe even ignore others. I can make my life seem as unreasonable as possible, or overblow it.
5. I guess that is something I like about the role of the narrator. I like blogging in this blog because it is a diary for me; my other blog is more about my academic studies and topical issues. But the thing I found was that after I established a highbrow academic tone; I couldn't cry. Furthermore, I'm public about who I am in that blog. Here, I am anonymous. I am conatus. All my baggage about my academic life (which I must say, is important to me), is lost in this blog; this is perhaps a better way.
   
6. I think that in the world of expression sometimes deception is important. I don't tell you about my academic thoughts or what certain intellectual figures, movements and such mean for me; I just want to express myself. Yes, my work is a big part of me, and indistinguishable from my real life self. But to understand the persno is to go into many different layers, many of which are inter tangled and artificially seperated. Perhaps the reality is in the mix, the confusion. The life we live is that of being in angst; constant angst.
7. Moving back to the biography of my day; the doctor seemed to emphasises this component of the cnosultation where it was important for a two-way relationship where I would seem not to be so belittling; I said 'anyway...' and continued on about the treatment plan. I will not acknowledge his weakness; I will not acknowledge him as a man. This man felt so pathetic, he was old; an old man who was past his day. He was feeble, the kind of person I could crush with my mind. I represent youth and verility, the furore of intellect, he represents the last of the summer wine, the one foot in the grave, and other such quaint English shows (Dad's army, anyone? :p).
   
8. I feel like a small victory is made; this man was an elderly doctor; clearly a man of exerience, but lacking in intellect; but i'm sure that makes him a better GP to treat people; but not a good reasoner. I learned today that I feel an exhilaration from challenging people bigger than me. I'm like the opposite bully. I am going to help the small guy by fighting the big guy.
9. I sometimes can be the little guy...its important to help out the little guy...In my fit of anger to this doctor. I try to rmember where the real me is in all of this? Am I the academic? Am I the angry passionate youth? Am I the suffering bulimic? I am all, and yet, none of these things; where is the real me beyond all the archetypes: where is the pure, essential me?