Time for some context to that relatively vague title for this entry tonight: one of my friends on Facebook posted about their New Year’s goals. And I have to admit, I like that. They aren’t half-hearted resolutions that can easily fall to the side and be forgotten about in the matter of a few months, as resolutions are apt to do. And their goals are pretty good: they’re specific, ambitious and completely accomplishable. What really caught my eye was the second part of this individual’s message.
Now… I’ll get this out right now; I am, despite my desire to be a straight arrow when it comes to taking the opinions and perspectives of another, sometimes a person of two minds. When it’s something I want to hear or something that you confirm by talking about it, I’m enthusiastic about what you have to say and take steps to make the process actually come to fruition. The other times, when it’s an area of weakness, I don’t take it well. I get defensive, act like there’s not a problem, and politely agree with you until you stop talking–upon which I do the best I can to forget anything you said about the topic and soothe my bruised ego.
So, when I read this person’s statement, my initial response was to roll my eyes and say “Yeah, but you haven’t lived my life, so…” and then a myriad of excuses–usually incredibly flimsy ones–to dismiss their argument and go back to what I was doing.
But then I examined my life. And I really haven’t been that happy with it as of late. My life largely reflects around my work routine, at which I feel the most alive–even when gritting my teeth as I drive through intersections with the realization that I need to turn around and go 15 miles in the other direction to the next stop when I’m running up against the clock. I’ve been given the chance to help load and unload the cargo containers we load shipments in. It’s physically and mentally demanding work that gets me sweating and pumped up about doing what I do. If things work out (I really hope they do), that might become part of my job’s routine. #MoMoney XD
Anyway, the last of this person’s goals was “put myself out there more.” And… I have to admit, as an extroverted introvert, that statement is challenging for me to deal with. Let me explain why, and it’s something I recalled recently from when I was in grade school.
For those of you reading this who don’t know me, I was diagnosed with Asperberger’s Spectrum ADHD when I was 6. And back then, the drug of choice was Ritalin, of which I was on for most of my early life. I was placed in special education classes since kindergarten and really didn’t have the first idea as to how to make friends because I was one of the “special” kids. And, I guess I tried to fit in, but… it was a long time ago, and remembering what happened to you when you were in 1st grade when you’re my age is no easy task.
Years went by until this incident occurred. What happened was that I was out on my bicycle–a good old one-speed bike that was black with this weird orange colored paint on it–the name escapes me–and got around some other kids my age group and wanted to go bike riding with them and go to the one person’s house.
I was thrilled: someone wanted for me to be their friend! I was going to be accepted and really start growing as a person. So, we start riding. And they start going faster. It’s not very long before I lose sight of them. Nobody stopped and waited for me, and nobody came back to see if I was still on my way. I ended up on the fringe of Minnetonka–which when you’re 9 is a long way from home, exhausted and stopped at a stranger’s house for a glass of water before I headed back to my house.
I was crushed. I felt like I wasn’t important and that I was always going to be left behind, always the special kid who everybody gets a good laugh out of and excludes from events and parties and stuff. And… I think right then and there I gave up on trying to make friends. I was always gonna be weird, the round hole for the square peg. The friends I did have were ones that had learning, emotional or physical disabilities. Me? I just learned a little differently.
Fast forward to today. I’m skipping a lot of details, but I want to inform you, not bore you to death with every detail of my life for the last 15 odd years or so. I’ve had my fair share of friendships, and I still do… but, as of late, they’ve… been starting to wither a bit. Part my fault, part theirs. I’ve flat out cut two people out of my life; one, it was after I got tired of them having selective responding skills which seemed to me an excuse after so long; the other, simply because their inability to accept reality had reached a point–and I also realized that I wasn’t really a friend to this person–the friendship wasn’t reciprocal.
I’ve said on occasions prior to this post that I’m… relatively approachable. Granted, my schedule wreaks havoc on my social life during the week and that’s a small price to pay for my continued employment, and I do Tweet when I can.
Speaking of Twitter, I just looked at my follower count–and, granted it’s just a number and isn’t reflective of activity/interaction from my followers–and it’s a pretty healthy number. True, nothing to write home about and certainly nothing on which to rest my laurels or make a comparison to anybody else–let’s not even start that game, but it is something.
I have noted before I am… sort of socially awkward. I–unintentionally–come across as a potential know-it-all/know-too-much individual at times, don’t always know how to read people, or am burdened by a vocabulary that isn’t the most conversationally compatible of all. It’s why I made the comparison between myself and Moondancer last week in a post.
Okay, don’t run out of steam near the close 🙂
I can’t really say it’s true. I may share some of Moondancer’s traits, but I’m certainly not a mirror image of her by far. Not am I truly Starlight Glimmer or any stereotype of pony that I’ve been exposed to. The one thing that Moondancer and I have in common though is that we both suffered a substantial emotional wound when we were younger by those who probably intended no malice.
Unfortunately for me, I can’t find those kids that did that from over 30 years ago… hell, I don’t even remember their names… and the catharsis that we see Moondancer go through in Amending Fences is something I’ve never quite felt in full. At a time or two in the last year or so, maybe. I recall myself bawling like a baby when I was listening to BlackGryph0n’s song Tell Me on repeat once I heard a certain line in the chorus
Getting back to what my friend said, yes… I believe it’s important to not live in the shadows because you can’t really live life there. However, I guess what I’m trying to explain to people is my fear. It’s truly the one thing I am afraid of. What’s that?
That I’ll be rejected and individuals I meet won’t want me. Is the fear irrational? Not really. Do I let it grow out of proportion far more often than it should? Yeah.
Right now, I’m going to try and be… different. I still have emotional hurts–from my childhood, from my marriage, from time spent living in my in-laws (I really don’t recommend it unless you have a good relationship and there are boundary lines) that I have kept to myself out of respect for others as to not burden them. They’re supposed to be my friends, not an emotional dumping ground where I pour out all the ick and filth and bile and walk away clean and then leave them with a mess to deal with. That’s neither fair nor incredibly appropriate.
Still, I’ve got to try something. If it’s being honest with someone I trust and not being afraid and socially awkward, so be it! The only person I’m hurting in the process by doing that is myself.
It’s time I stopped doing that.
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