The Void
Sometimes I fall into the Void and try to assess every single mannerism I exhibit in any aspect of my life, and then find that my brain is so twisted up I start to forget how I got into the Void in the first place. Does that ever happen to you? Just thinking about it is blasting me off into the Void. I start thinking Do I fall into the Void too often? Is this the product of having observant parents who psychoanalyze others, and I am turning that behavior on myself? Is this why I have such a hard time writing anything? Should I be more confident? Should I try to gradually weed this behavior out of me before I am damned to the eternal hellfire that is my own brain? Is a failure to do this a reflection of my confidence? What is consciousness? When I really should have just turned around as soon as I saw that cliff.
Falling into the Void happens so often that I'm pretty sure over my lifespan I've spent at least a week wading around in it. The Void is hard to characterize. It's not truly a void in that it isn't at all empty, but it is infinite. It usually consists of hyper-self-consciousness, endless questions whose importance is unknown, and lots of pain. It starts with a question about my own behavior. Why am I always late to P.E.? The correct and definitive answer to that question is that P.E. is far away, and I am talkative. But when the Void sees a chance as tempting as this, it pelts me with more existential questions and doesn't give me enough time to think about any one of them. Why am I always late to P.E.? turns into Why am I talkative? What internal deficiencies am I trying to compensate for by being so talkative? Will this trend become a recurring habit and ruin my high school experience, and then my future? What is consciousness? At this point, it's too late. I've already fallen down the rabbit hole, where I'll shave off another two minutes of my life thinking about something completely irrelevant.
At least the Void spits me out as quickly as I got sucked in. After trying to answer these questions in a haze while simultaneously juggling new ones (Is being talkative actually a bad thing? What is consciousness?) the loudest part of my brain kicks in and suddenly I am back in narrative mode, processing as usual. The only way to get out of the Void is to notice that you're in it -- that your thoughts about whatever slippery slope will ruin your life this time have no validity and are a product of an overactive imagination.
The Void isn't just overthinking or overanalyzing. Usually, when I overthink an issue, the issue has substance. I can overthink about how I want to plan my Subbie Buddy event, or what it means that my boyfriend is leaving for college. Those issues are complex enough to be overthought but concrete enough to be thought about. I hesitate to call what happens in the Void thought. It's more like counterfeit thought for a faux issue. Nothing is ever solved in the Void.
Though Void episodes are short-lived, sometimes I have recurring Voids. A popular and especially useless one begins with watching a comedian I love perform. I start wondering how they got to be so good at crafting their comedy. A lot of what I love about comedy is how it transforms negative observations about the world into something positive, funny. Therefore, a comedian must have had a horrible upbringing or incident happen to them in order to be a great comedian (Margaret Cho, for example). Therefore, I will never be a great comedian because I'm a happy person, and the same goes for being a good writer, because a writer's got to have something to say, right?
Uh. So let's break this down. Comedy is larger than just negative thoughts turned funny, and although I wasn't there for Jerry Seinfeld's childhood, I'm pretty sure he did alright. And though a writer has to have something to say, more power to them if they can find it where they aren't expecting it. I wish that was a definitive answer to the Void, but unfortunately I have trouble stopping myself from having those thoughts almost every time I watch comedy. There might be a way to quiet them, though.
I know the Void will never go away. It's in me, it's a necessary byproduct of self-reflection. But every Void I've encountered can be slain by trying to speak it out loud -- it's afraid of being put into words. So, take this. Good luck handling 794 of them.
Falling into the Void happens so often that I'm pretty sure over my lifespan I've spent at least a week wading around in it. The Void is hard to characterize. It's not truly a void in that it isn't at all empty, but it is infinite. It usually consists of hyper-self-consciousness, endless questions whose importance is unknown, and lots of pain. It starts with a question about my own behavior. Why am I always late to P.E.? The correct and definitive answer to that question is that P.E. is far away, and I am talkative. But when the Void sees a chance as tempting as this, it pelts me with more existential questions and doesn't give me enough time to think about any one of them. Why am I always late to P.E.? turns into Why am I talkative? What internal deficiencies am I trying to compensate for by being so talkative? Will this trend become a recurring habit and ruin my high school experience, and then my future? What is consciousness? At this point, it's too late. I've already fallen down the rabbit hole, where I'll shave off another two minutes of my life thinking about something completely irrelevant.
At least the Void spits me out as quickly as I got sucked in. After trying to answer these questions in a haze while simultaneously juggling new ones (Is being talkative actually a bad thing? What is consciousness?) the loudest part of my brain kicks in and suddenly I am back in narrative mode, processing as usual. The only way to get out of the Void is to notice that you're in it -- that your thoughts about whatever slippery slope will ruin your life this time have no validity and are a product of an overactive imagination.
The Void isn't just overthinking or overanalyzing. Usually, when I overthink an issue, the issue has substance. I can overthink about how I want to plan my Subbie Buddy event, or what it means that my boyfriend is leaving for college. Those issues are complex enough to be overthought but concrete enough to be thought about. I hesitate to call what happens in the Void thought. It's more like counterfeit thought for a faux issue. Nothing is ever solved in the Void.
Though Void episodes are short-lived, sometimes I have recurring Voids. A popular and especially useless one begins with watching a comedian I love perform. I start wondering how they got to be so good at crafting their comedy. A lot of what I love about comedy is how it transforms negative observations about the world into something positive, funny. Therefore, a comedian must have had a horrible upbringing or incident happen to them in order to be a great comedian (Margaret Cho, for example). Therefore, I will never be a great comedian because I'm a happy person, and the same goes for being a good writer, because a writer's got to have something to say, right?
Uh. So let's break this down. Comedy is larger than just negative thoughts turned funny, and although I wasn't there for Jerry Seinfeld's childhood, I'm pretty sure he did alright. And though a writer has to have something to say, more power to them if they can find it where they aren't expecting it. I wish that was a definitive answer to the Void, but unfortunately I have trouble stopping myself from having those thoughts almost every time I watch comedy. There might be a way to quiet them, though.
I know the Void will never go away. It's in me, it's a necessary byproduct of self-reflection. But every Void I've encountered can be slain by trying to speak it out loud -- it's afraid of being put into words. So, take this. Good luck handling 794 of them.
W0w. I can relate to this on a personal level. I get sucked into a similar thing sometimes as the Void, but its more of a vacuum that my mind goes to because there's thoughts floating around in there, but they're disconnected and have no basis in the situation I'm physically in. Also, once I float back to reality, I have no solid recollection of what happened in the mental vacuum. I guess, then, that it's different from the Void. I do like your description though and it makes a lot of sense.
ReplyDeleteI like your solution of combatting the Void by talking about it. As one of my favorite comedians, Sarah Silverman, often quotes Mr. Rogers as saying, "If it's mentionable, it's manageable." Speaking of comedians, Tina Fey is pretty funny, and she seems to have had a relatively non-scarring childhood. And she's a good writer. I think you'll well in both arenas, despite your relative lack of negative experience. (But also, everyone has some negative experience, everyone struggles in some way. To the extent that that's necessary for comedy and/or writing, I'm sure you have enough to give you perspective.)
ReplyDeleteI get what you're saying. I guess I also feel it too sometimes. I keep digging deeper until I end up at the center of the earth, and then even when I dig myself out I pop up at a whole different place than where I started, and I have to walk all the way back, only to fall into that same hole. But is it really a bad thing? I enjoy the fall, and where it leads me. I'll admit, I often jump down the hole on purpose.
ReplyDeleteThis post is very relatable and well put. I love the way the reader can hear your voice in every sentence, that connection makes the post more engaging. I like the comedy you bring to a topic that could potentially take a deeper turn. I also overthink a lot which somehow leads to me not thinking anymore, which leads to the void. It's like you take the backseat in the car of your life, and let it drive you somewhere for a while until you realize it's headed for a cliff so you need to take over. Great post!
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