Automaton

I'm not quite sure how this metaphor will unfold, but I've been thinking about automatons and the way I choose to live my life.

The first act of Offenbach's Les Contes D'Hoffmann reveals the poet falling in love with an automaton. While wearing magic glasses, he mistakes the doll Olympia for a real woman. Olympia was created by two mad scientists. I always found her aria hilarious; she trails off as she loses her steam and needs to be wound up again "Ah! ah! aaaaahhhhhhhh....." I used to parody "Les Oiseaux dans la Charmille" to my father. Ultimately, the two mad scientists get into a fight and one of them destroys Olympia in a fit of pique. The vision is destroyed.

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I've found I can push and push myself really hard to do anything, until all of a sudden I can't anymore.

It was relatively easy to starve myself at first in high school. I have an iron will and impressive physical endurance. Sure, I was hungry, but I got used to it. I fought the anemic fatigue even though it drained me profoundly. And then my doctor interceded, and I was forced to eat. That was the beginning of the end. Even though it took ten more years to start my recovery, my body remembered what it felt like to eat, and I was never truly successful at anorexia again. I'd try to restrict my diet, and wham! another part of me would take over and overeat. It was only when I learned to listen to my own internal hunger and throw away outside directives that things settled down.

I've forced myself to do many impressive things in the name of self-discipline and outward achievement. The fields are varied: academics, careers, exercise, relationships. The result is always the same. I can accomplish extreme feats through sheer force of will, but it's exhausting and ultimately I collapse, spiritually or physically. The feats in question are not always objectively extreme or difficult; some people find them quite manageable (think law school or Calc II or dating a Republican). But for me, they were really hard and the only reason I was doing them was because they're what I felt like I should be doing at the time.

It's dangerous to take a break from something like that because then you have time to reflect. And when you arbitrarily decide it's time to return to the thing, whatever it is, your body flat out refuses. It's like, Haha, you think you're going to voluntarily do that again when you've shown us there's another option that does not involve torture?! Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. I know that sentiment is typically used in a different context, but for me it's true for law, diets, certain relationships, and going out late to parties.

I feel like my younger self was an automaton in a way. Ironically, I thought I was being strong and independent, but really I was conforming to what others wanted. Weight, a certain profession, physical appearance. To the outside world one can look polished and together, but if the performance is mechanical, ultimately it's unsustainable. I'd rather not continue to have society repeatedly twist the key on my back so I can be a doll in a show. I'd rather pick living and self-rejuvenation.

I struggle sometimes in wondering whether my inability to complete tasks during the day is laziness, depression, or simply my body's way of telling me that I'm done with an old way of life. Clearly I want to continue the essential tasks: caring for my children, occasionally cleaning the toilet and washing dishes, keeping appointments, paying bills. But I'm trying to examine my physiological response to other things, whether they are relationships that are causing me discomfort, or roles that I need to relinquish. Like Hoffmann, I want to find inspiration within.