Sunday, 5. July 2015
Night of Revelations
ell, 00:42h
Note: This is an addition to the one directly below, so you should read that first.
I guess part of the problem always was that I've never actually talked with anyone about anything of it. I've always been a sort of go-to person for some people, when they wanted to talk about their boyfriends, or their respective problems with teachers or anything, but I've never talked about any of my real problems. After all whom should I've been talking to?
My mum always had enough problems for herself, and she was one you wanted to keep in a good mood, so when being asked everything was always fine.
My brother was one I confided in at least partially, but he is a rather relaxed kind, something I've always envied and tried to achieve myself, in which I at least partially succeeded, temporarily. However, layed back as he was, he'd also never understood my problems.
And so I've gotten so used to just swallowing everything up, never showing anything, and making an all-well face to the public, that by the time someone came around I'd actually talk to, I'd so gotten used to not-talking, that I went on playing the sturdy, self confident person I always wanted to be, my actual vulnerable self only showing when it was fed by defeat of some kind.
So here, I'll try to finally talk about something:
For once I've always been kind of an odd kid. In Kindergarden I already always played with the other odd kids. Ok, to be honest, I've been playing with just about everyone, but also people where even my most liberal-minded friends, and even sometimes myself looking back, said: "What are you doing with them?"
And from the beginning I've never been in any group. I've gotten around with just about anyone, and thus I've never really belonged anywhere. In some ways that surely is good, but over time I've often enough even been a loner among loners.
The reason: I am somehow strange. I've got a hard time catching up to others, socially. I guess I managed to hide that to the 'grown-ups' at least, but looking back I can't help but notice that I've grown more and more socially awkward. I don't know when it started, but by fifth grade I had become was going to be the punching ball in class, the last one to be picked in sports, and increasingly iritable.
Most of the time I just took those classmates as idiots, their pranks as childplay, and it all as uniportant, because they did it to each other as well, but there were a few, only two or three, who saw that I was the weak one in the herd, who singled me out and under whom I suffered. Not physically, mind you, for I am quite capable of fighting back on that level, but mentally. I suffered, and never told, never showed, playing strong and selfconfident as always, as if nothing happened at all, or I just didn't care.
And while indeed the rational part of me didn't care, there was another, sub-concious part, that did. As I couldn't get any acknowledgement from the others my age, I sought acknowledgement in good marks, talents and interest, and comfort in books and music. This is going so far, that today I often have a hard time dealing with direct criticism. While the rational part of me knows that it's right, that I did a mistake and that I can do it better, there's the irrational part, slowly growing stronger, turning things around, saying I should have know, I could have done it, but I'll never make it, never be good, repeating that over and over again, until it's shut down by a proof to the opposite. And while most of the time, I manage to ignore it, when things pile up, I suddenly break up in tears, sometimes because of a very minor thing, and although I know what's trigger I actually never know why, and I don't even want to, I want to be strong, but I can't because, in that situation at least, I am not, which only feeds the irrational part which has taken control over me then.
Another part is that I have a horribly hard time letting go of things. Although I know I can't go back there, and it was better to give it up, because things were already falling appart, I always long for the time when it all was allright. For the few things where I was actually part of something, knew that I accomplished something. I guess that goes in accordance with what I already described.
For a long time I've managed to get around with that. I've lied to myself, and most of all lied to everyone else, pretending that I was completely fine and only seldomely, involuntarily showing that I was not. But now that I suddenly got a little more stress on me than usual, my little pretense of strength is rapidly breaking down and my resilience, mental, emotional and physical, quickly fading. I guess if I ever want to deal with that problem, I should start now, and maybe talking about it here, is a first step.
I guess part of the problem always was that I've never actually talked with anyone about anything of it. I've always been a sort of go-to person for some people, when they wanted to talk about their boyfriends, or their respective problems with teachers or anything, but I've never talked about any of my real problems. After all whom should I've been talking to?
My mum always had enough problems for herself, and she was one you wanted to keep in a good mood, so when being asked everything was always fine.
My brother was one I confided in at least partially, but he is a rather relaxed kind, something I've always envied and tried to achieve myself, in which I at least partially succeeded, temporarily. However, layed back as he was, he'd also never understood my problems.
And so I've gotten so used to just swallowing everything up, never showing anything, and making an all-well face to the public, that by the time someone came around I'd actually talk to, I'd so gotten used to not-talking, that I went on playing the sturdy, self confident person I always wanted to be, my actual vulnerable self only showing when it was fed by defeat of some kind.
So here, I'll try to finally talk about something:
For once I've always been kind of an odd kid. In Kindergarden I already always played with the other odd kids. Ok, to be honest, I've been playing with just about everyone, but also people where even my most liberal-minded friends, and even sometimes myself looking back, said: "What are you doing with them?"
And from the beginning I've never been in any group. I've gotten around with just about anyone, and thus I've never really belonged anywhere. In some ways that surely is good, but over time I've often enough even been a loner among loners.
The reason: I am somehow strange. I've got a hard time catching up to others, socially. I guess I managed to hide that to the 'grown-ups' at least, but looking back I can't help but notice that I've grown more and more socially awkward. I don't know when it started, but by fifth grade I had become was going to be the punching ball in class, the last one to be picked in sports, and increasingly iritable.
Most of the time I just took those classmates as idiots, their pranks as childplay, and it all as uniportant, because they did it to each other as well, but there were a few, only two or three, who saw that I was the weak one in the herd, who singled me out and under whom I suffered. Not physically, mind you, for I am quite capable of fighting back on that level, but mentally. I suffered, and never told, never showed, playing strong and selfconfident as always, as if nothing happened at all, or I just didn't care.
And while indeed the rational part of me didn't care, there was another, sub-concious part, that did. As I couldn't get any acknowledgement from the others my age, I sought acknowledgement in good marks, talents and interest, and comfort in books and music. This is going so far, that today I often have a hard time dealing with direct criticism. While the rational part of me knows that it's right, that I did a mistake and that I can do it better, there's the irrational part, slowly growing stronger, turning things around, saying I should have know, I could have done it, but I'll never make it, never be good, repeating that over and over again, until it's shut down by a proof to the opposite. And while most of the time, I manage to ignore it, when things pile up, I suddenly break up in tears, sometimes because of a very minor thing, and although I know what's trigger I actually never know why, and I don't even want to, I want to be strong, but I can't because, in that situation at least, I am not, which only feeds the irrational part which has taken control over me then.
Another part is that I have a horribly hard time letting go of things. Although I know I can't go back there, and it was better to give it up, because things were already falling appart, I always long for the time when it all was allright. For the few things where I was actually part of something, knew that I accomplished something. I guess that goes in accordance with what I already described.
For a long time I've managed to get around with that. I've lied to myself, and most of all lied to everyone else, pretending that I was completely fine and only seldomely, involuntarily showing that I was not. But now that I suddenly got a little more stress on me than usual, my little pretense of strength is rapidly breaking down and my resilience, mental, emotional and physical, quickly fading. I guess if I ever want to deal with that problem, I should start now, and maybe talking about it here, is a first step.
... comment
