there is more truth in fantasy than reality
“I slept in today. And I really needed that. But then I spent all day daydreaming and being on my phone, and boy do I feel shitty right now. I am restless. And angry at [the ex]. And I feel like I’ve been neglecting myself all day.”
From My Journal, Day 64
When I failed to feel positive, I daydreamed. In fact, I daydreamed most of my time outside the office and classroom.
Daydreaming was my primary coping mechanism since early childhood. Having no influence over my external conditions, I habitually retreated into my internal, more accurately mental, experiences. My rich imagination was my refuge. I spent much of my life in this disassociated state. I believe it was my daydreaming habit that enabled me to preserve my child-like curiosity and openness, idealism and softheartedness. By escaping the present moment, I evaded its blows. By disconnecting from my sensitivity and receptivity, intuition and creativity, I saved myself from the harsh elements of life. By separating from my truth, I remained true to myself.
A friend asked me once how I resisted submitting to my circumstances and changing – hardening – as a result. The fact is I fragmented my psyche and hid various parts of my self in the shadow. One cannot manipulate that which is not accessible.
The only place I could see a glimpse of what was desirable and dear to my heart was in my daydreams.
During those early days post breakup, I felt much resistance to facing reality and instead spent countless hours daydreaming about a different version of me in different circumstances surrounded by different, that is loving and supportive, people. I daydreamed about the self I hoped to become someday and the life I hoped to live someday years down the line. I always measured the time gap between my current self (at any given moment) and fantasy self in years because, although I intended to become that person, I knew the transformation was so dramatic it would require heaps of time and effort to change the ingrained patterns of being and behaving. Yet, the person I saw in my daydreams felt more like self than the person perpetually riding an emotional roller coaster, relentlessly obsessing over relationships, bulldozing through (repeat) situations with tunnel vision, and inflating herself with empty cheer.
As a result of my compulsive and excessive daydreaming, I procrastinated on schoolwork, which piled up and increasingly added to my stress load, that I then attempted to escape by more daydreaming. I neglected my body and home. My sink was full of dishes, my sheets needed changing, and my legs were overdue for a shave. I felt disgusted and annoyed and angry. I was mostly angry at my ex. I felt restless. I was alone. I was lonely. I was experiencing a lot of fear and anxiety related to school, which I harbored for decades as a consequence of being in an abusive educational system, wherein unfulfilled educators dumped their frustrations onto and exercised their limited power over powerless children. These emotional wounds were once again peeled open by an ongoing unhealthy power dynamic I observed in a university.
In essence, my reality was too painful, and I was too weak to endure the pain.
More than anything, I wanted two things in life: to love what I did and to love the person I was with. And no matter where I was in life, what my influences were and how much personal work I did or avoided doing, this simple truth did not change. And if there was anything more excruciating than the circumstances I found myself in, it was the realization that I never had the experiences I so deeply longed for and they continued to be out of my reach. Thus, I daydreamed.
I argue that daydreaming is one of the healthiest coping mechanisms I developed. The danger of daydreaming is that it can become obsessive and take over one’s life. It can steal many, if not most, hours from anyone’s day, if not checked, similar to an addiction to Internet, TV, gaming, and in some cases reading. Unlike the latter, however, daydreaming is more challenging to unplug from because, plainly, it does not run on electricity (even reading requires a light source). And, of course, it makes paying attention in important situations, i.e., driving, conversations, classroom, etc., far more difficult.
The major advantage of daydreaming, however, is that it allows one to explore their deepest desires without inhibition, whilst remaining crystal clear about what is fantasy and what is reality. The fantasy I played out in my head while laying on a couch and staring at a ceiling posed much less threat to my psychological development and quality of life than the fantasy I lived out when I fanatically convinced myself that I was happy, and grateful, and blessed, and life was good. The imaginary relationships I created in my mind were far less of an obstacle to achieving true intimacy than the real-life relationships I entertained for decades, which were shallow, inauthentic and manipulative. My fictional love served both as an escape and encouragement to believe that safe and profound intimacy was attainable (if I faced my fears, limiting beliefs and unhealthy patterns of feeling, thinking and doing, and learned to take responsibility for myself rather than project an image of a parental figure onto a partner). The fantasy bonds I forged in reality, on the other hand, numbed my senses, diluted my passions, and misled me into thinking that now that I was chosen and I had a warm body by my side, I was validated and complete. They stunted my growth and made me more delusional than any couch fantasy ever could.
My daydreams were a gateway to my shadow self. They stored the fragmented parts of me – my unmet needs and dormant desires, my neglected talents and undeveloped passions, my large ambitions and even larger personality (which I worked so hard to squeeze into a size zero bodycon dress and adorn with a smile). They pointed in the direction of my fulfillment, which ran opposite of my codependent attachments, avoidant tendencies and compulsive obsessions. They laid out a path to my self-actualization and individuation.
My daydreams were a portal to my potential. They revealed the gap between where I was and where I wanted to be, and guided me towards filling said gap. They informed me which habits I needed to break and which habits I needed to form. They demonstrated the qualities I was lacking. They unmasked my resistance, be it doubts, fears, limiting beliefs, and my conditioning for comfort, complacency and codependence. By sheer imagination, I could sense which relationship dynamics and financial pursuits made me feel empowered, and which made me desire to be small. Interestingly, I always daydreamed about the former, but perpetually leaned towards the latter in real life. For, it is easier to be small, and quiet, and invisible, to be absolved of responsibility and told what to do and what to become, to be protected and secure within the confines of prison walls. In my fantasy, I could see beyond the razor barbed wire fence of my conditioning.
In my daydreams, I could see the truth.