What am I Worth? - No Seriously, Please Tell Me

Caution: This blog post will contain more feelings than usual, which is really saying something.

I recently watched Neon Genesis: Evangelion and The End of Evangelion with my partner, Astral. It is a devastating and beautiful story encompassing a array of heavy themes and has become my favourite scifi of all time. As I understood the show, at its core it's an allegory for living with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). Several main characters are shown with very obvious symptoms and even the core structure of the show representing the dissociative highs and violent lows of that experience.

Astral and I both live with BPD, and neither of us had seen a more powerful representation of what often happens inside our hearts. The final episodes of the show left me journaling into the early hours trying to piece my heart together and find my next steps. Its that kind of devastating.

The show will stick with me, from some of the most compelling characters I've ever seen, to some visual and story telling magic, delivering beautiful cinema across the widest spectrum of budget I've ever seen in film. But across 26 episodes and a film, one line has stood above all the rest.

While the fate of human existence is being fought for, Asuka is splitting hard on Shinji, her insecurity spilling violently outward. Rei calmly but bluntly interrupts her to ask:

Of all the questions I felt were posed directly to me, this one I could answer immediately. Yes, I pilot my Eva for paise.

From the way it makes my day when I get told 'good job' at my work, to how my chest grows warm when friends thank me for help I've given them, I love to receive praise.

Whenever I finish any work, I beg for praise. I recently built a cool automated spreadsheet at my job and kept telling colleagues about it until one finally said "thats cool as". I do the same thing with my making. The immediate first step upon project completion is to reach as many as I can to pander for people to tell me "Proud of you, son" ¹

My parents offered love and praise conditionally, you always had to earn their affection. This meant the standards for your worth were only ever on their terms. For my Dad it often centered performance in sport (something I gave my heart to but never thrived) and music knowledge (the arbitrary ability to identify all of his favourite music). For my Mum it was academic performance (not real learning, just the grades and accolades). When you failed to meet their standards, love was not given, you were not worthy.

Even when our parents showed pride in us, they didn't mean they were proud of us, they were proud of themselves for having raised us. My Mum spoke often of "I'm always telling everyone about how great you are". Similarly, when I joked with my Uncle about receiving limited paise from my Dad he told me how my Dad regularly told him how proud of me he was (something he seldom told me).

How can you create your own heart when the love of those that brought you into this world is tied solely to their approval. Every time I'd step towards creation, my very first thoughts would be:

Would they think it worthy?

Perfect Days presents the very opposite, its a beautiful film about contentment, shows its lead through his everyday life on the days when he finds himself most present and content. He takes pride in his labour, regardless of how menial others find it. He gives time for rest and pleasure, looking after his body and himself. He lives a life isolated.

He regularly takes pictures of the beauty in his urban life, he gets them developed, keeps those he is most proud of, then puts them away. He does not need others to validate his art, he finds value of it inherently. He finds value in his work in spite of what others think.

The real world makers who create for themselves inspire me.

What if I just practiced good work on my own, isolated, would my work be worthy? Would I be worthy?

I don't think fundamentally I could ever access that sort of contentment in my work but these artists sure make me want to try.

I want to convince myself that my work is of value without others loving it. That I'm of value without others loving me or my work.

I need to continue to build identity, to build myself as a person with my own feelings and values who cares so deeply about making and creation. That is how I can love myself unconditionally.

The blog you are reading this very text is a double edged sword toward that goal. Yes, it makes me take time for self reflection and to take pride in my work, yet I still post it online and share them were I can. I convince myself that I write these to contribute back to the online maker community where I have gathered so much inspiration, which is true, but my happiest moments are still when I receive comments from folks saying they are proud of my good work.

I don't talk to either of my parents anymore, yet part of me hopes they'll read this piece and suddenly understand. That they'll retroactively praise all my work I've ever completed. Only then would I be fulfilled, have inherent value, and be set free to create whatever my heart desires without requiring outside validation. Obviously this is a dream I need to let go.

I just want to be whole, I want to be loved. Why can't they love me?

I don't know what comes next to find value in myself. I feel happiest when I am piloting the Eva, but its the days when I can't that I feel lost and hopeless. I've talked recently about gaining new tools in medication for piloting the Eva more often, but it has only made it more obvious how quickly I feel empty without productivity.

For as long as I can remember, voices in my head that sound like me have told me what I wanted, to go to be an engineer, earn a lot of money, to have a wife, kids, house. They've told me I need to try harder, push further, that I wouldn't ever be enough if I failed. They told me I must be loved by all, an impossible feat when you'll never be enough anyway.

I've worked hard at it and now those voices sound like the people who originally spoke them, letting me evaluate them for what they are, just something another heart has shared with me. That doesn't mean they should be ignored, but they are not inherently valuable or infallible.

I can only achieve this by creating my own heart, creating an April inside of me, not just the one inside of others. She will always be shaped and guided by others but she should no longer be lead solely by praise and approval.

A heart takes a lifetime to build, it just takes the will to live.