Censorship

[Anchorite]

This looks like the more 'open-minded' (and whatever this expression means) section of the forum, so I thought I would post this experimental thread. #hashtag
I've been anxious/paranoid for several years now about censorship. Not just the reality of it (e.g. some anonymous entity will report this post and then "I" get told off for doing nothing 'wrong') but the cumulative effects of traumatic experiences, which are ultimately a result of an insecure anxiety-ridden life of always expecting the worst and to be treated appallingly (even though I, by and large, haven't). So, for example, if I so much as think something in my head, let alone go outside for a walk, there is always an opposing voice in my head, a presence beside me, informing me that I am being watched, being recorded, and am liable to be punished simply for existing.
I get that it comes under the canopy of 'paranoia' (that vague, nebulous term for being enmeshed in pitiable fear) but when the 'reality' of this bears out, I find it hard to just quietly reassure myself that it is all in my head.
(And one does not simply 'walk into therapy'...as much as the advertisers will show it, and the medics will sell it.)
So, yeah, 'mental health' tag and all that (I've been alternately diagnosed with 'borderline psychosis' and 'neurosis'), but I've opted for 'rants, musings and ideas' because I like to think that I'm not automatically being written off as a "nutcase" (my speech marks, to validate my own survivalist mode of self-deprecation) but as just another angry voice that is barely making any sense, let alone making any valid point.
Words only go so far in expressing the frustration of inner turmoil, that culminates in my current mid-life peak of suicidal ideation as reflected in a life of seemingly pointless and unsatisfied actions (which seem to have been first noticed at the onset of sexual development). Why has anything happened? Why haven't I taken my life yet? Why do I feel imprisoned in a mental loop of questioning everything and receiving no meaningful answer to anything?
I'm resisting the temptation to remark either sardonically, cynically or with an absurdist comment. The words just stand by themselves and mean very little, and there is no authentic way of discerning the author of these words from an artificial imposter that doesn't possess the soul that I cannot feel anyway.
And what is 'trauma' anyway? Why do the words rarely reflect the severity of their meaning? Why does a nonsensical series of unutterable expletives, represented by coded symbols, seem more apt to visualising the pain that I cannot express conventionally? Am I the censor, or the censored, when I fear to express what I feel hindered from ever being able to express?
My head hurts from peering at little letters behind a screen, and reflections of light that make my dark time sad. I don't know whether I'm asleep or awake as I type, whatever era I'm in, whoever I am...

A

 

[Here Then Gone]

And one does not simply 'walk into therapy'...as much as the advertisers will show it, and the medics will sell it.)

True.

I like to think that I'm not automatically being written off as a "nutcase"

Not to me.

and receiving no meaningful answer to anything?

This will probably depend on what exactly you're going through, but with time, patience, and if you continue to search, I believe you'll find what you're looking for eventually.

Why do the words rarely reflect the severity of their meaning?

I think it's because we, us humans give words their meaning based on how we individually value them.

I believe I feel your same frustration if I'm reading this right. Terms like 'censorship', 'freedom of speech', 'love', 'truth', 'morals', 'rights', etc are all flawed, human-made concepts that constantly change meaning depending on who's currently saying or moderating them. Even on SF, a place of help for those struggling is not immune to these things. And it's frustrating, very frustrating at times especially if it makes you feel rejected or ignored when you're looking for the opposite response.

Sometimes we're all not that different, but our beliefs and values can make us very different. I struggle with this a lot, the fact that if we're all members of the same species, how come we have so many different results? You can't blame demographics and culture for everything. What I mean is why do we have so many different definitions, sometime complete opposite definitions of what 'love' or 'truth' is? It causes horrible societal issues and separation. I believe I know why that is, but I will keep it to myself also for fear of being 'censored'. take care

 

[Anchorite]

It's something which has been fairly consistent in my lifelong battle with depression. The hypocrisy of teachers and students when you realise that you're just one of many numbers being processed into an echo chamber of delusional 'politically correct'/'new-speak' that stifles any dissent but justifies it on the basis of being consistent with the values of democracy. It's pure hypocritical bullshit!
I left school burnt-out as much from the mental gymnastics that goes into upholding the rigid conformity of the fragile neo-liberal order, teetering on the edge into the 21st century, as much as the usual wear and tear of surviving socially in the urban jungle of a run-down shitty comp. Where talk of university greatness is dangled under your nose ("Oxbridge", even) only to leave you feeling alienated from your own peer group and worse off in the futile unskilled menial job market, as though you might as well not have been taught how to read and write in the first place. Like feeling the empowering allure of renaissance-style enlightenment, only to be tossed back onto the dungheap of feudal serfdom because we have goose-stepped into an atomised, individualistic consumerist-corporate mentality that pisses on the communitarian values that enabled past generations to survive in their adversity. How life is now one big fucking shopping precinct, with the outwardly enlightened, but inwardly apathetic, shoppers the biggest hypocrites of all. Our spirits crushed into the oblivion of the 'i-takeover' (ego-driven as much as blind ideological conformity to the dawn of the AI revolution) we are left to go mad, and are coolly told that you're not allowed to be mad anymore - just 'different'. I fucking hate it, but it's not anger that animates me. It's the inability to do anything about it, once the soul is sucked out of existence and all that is left is a fragile mind encased in a dying environment. Constantly dying, but having no will to end it before the inevitable expiration. How does it end? What is the point?

A

 

[Gard]

I don't know whether I'm asleep or awake as I type, whatever era I'm in, whoever I am...

Pinch yourself.
Bump your head against the table.
Does it hurt? Congratulations, you're awake.