Memories are a problem, not least because there are times when I genuinely can't remember if what I'm recalling is real or not. Dreams, nightmares, imaginings; they all help to confuse my idea of reality. There are times when I'm convinced that something that has happened just a day or two before didn't actually occur, or else I end up thinking that I've somehow misconstrued/misinterpreted events. Strange how it's usually the most positive events that fall victim to this.
It also doesn't help that the bad memories have a habit of abruptly barging to the forefront of my mind, elbowing aside the present and reminding me of things I'd rather forget. The good is endlessly dilated (unless I can somehow find a way to rapidly reenforce it) while the bad encroaches in on all sides. Nobody likes remembering being abused; nobody likes to remember hour after hour of crying on a toilet seat, muffling the sobs with toilet paper whenever somebody else enters the room; nobody likes remembering the sting of digging a knife into their own flesh.
And what's worse is that I'm never allowed to keep anything good, it must always be defiled and sullied. Even the best of moments must be dragged through the metaphorical mud. Everything is skewed out of proportion and there never seems to be anything that I can do about it. My black dog is a strong boy, he knows how to keep me firmly in line and chase off those pesky positives.
Monday, 5 December 2011
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Mind Reading
Nobody has the ability to read minds, not in the real world. Therefore one should never presume to know what someone else is thinking, to know what someone else thinks of them. It's a perfectly logical line of argument, yes, but still I can't seem to make myself fully accept it. Genuinely I find it hard to believe that anyone can look at me with anything other than contempt, revulsion, hatred, dislike, disgust... (That list could go on for quite a while).
As much as part of me desperately wants to think otherwise, there will always be a larger part of me insisting that I'm misreading the situation, or that this person is looking to use me in some way. There simply has to be some sort of ulterior motive to come near something like me... Especially given how I keep saying or doing the wrong thing on a very regular basis. So, come on then, what is it?
Right now I could probably delve into any number of different memories and experiences that have helped to reenforce this idea so firmly in my mind, but doing so would serve only to depress me even further right now. And as I have essay work to be doing later, I really can't afford to be setting myself off this late in the day. An awful lot of time can be lost that way. Besides, this is a subject I'm almost certain to return to.
As much as part of me desperately wants to think otherwise, there will always be a larger part of me insisting that I'm misreading the situation, or that this person is looking to use me in some way. There simply has to be some sort of ulterior motive to come near something like me... Especially given how I keep saying or doing the wrong thing on a very regular basis. So, come on then, what is it?
Right now I could probably delve into any number of different memories and experiences that have helped to reenforce this idea so firmly in my mind, but doing so would serve only to depress me even further right now. And as I have essay work to be doing later, I really can't afford to be setting myself off this late in the day. An awful lot of time can be lost that way. Besides, this is a subject I'm almost certain to return to.
Saturday, 3 December 2011
Hiding Under the Window
To go back to the start, so to speak, is proving something of a difficulty. Naturally I know that my problems must have started somewhere/sometime but for the life of me I cannot pinpoint the moment that the black dog first appeared on my tail. Although I can say with absolute certainty that the rapid escalation in his size and power began in earnest some years ago, when my family chose to relocate, I am hesitant to label this as the crucial moment of his birth. Even before then certain things were more than a little off in this head of mine.
Social anxiety in particular wasn't anything new to me, even as a child I remember that I consistently found it hard or almost impossible to interact with others (child or adult). Perhaps that is just part of my genetic makeup or attributable to some lack in my upbringing; who can say? Generally it's always been the case that someone else has had to put in the initial and greater effort to gain my acquaintance and friendship, part of what deters people I'm sure. It's not that I especially want to be standoffish, it's that I genuinely find it hard to be anything else; I don't know how to be anything else.
It is with mild shame now I look back on the fact that I used to frequently hide from my best friend. She lived next door and came over like clockwork every day after school finished. I would almost always see her coming, skipping across the front lawn. And then, on far more than one occasion, I'd hit the ground under the window and simply ignore the doorbell ringing. This only worked when my mother was out, naturally.
Why did I do this? Some days I would just find that facing another human being was simply too much for me, even though in this case it was a person who I knew incredibly well and had known for as long as I could remember... Perhaps the rest really is no wonder then.
Social anxiety in particular wasn't anything new to me, even as a child I remember that I consistently found it hard or almost impossible to interact with others (child or adult). Perhaps that is just part of my genetic makeup or attributable to some lack in my upbringing; who can say? Generally it's always been the case that someone else has had to put in the initial and greater effort to gain my acquaintance and friendship, part of what deters people I'm sure. It's not that I especially want to be standoffish, it's that I genuinely find it hard to be anything else; I don't know how to be anything else.
It is with mild shame now I look back on the fact that I used to frequently hide from my best friend. She lived next door and came over like clockwork every day after school finished. I would almost always see her coming, skipping across the front lawn. And then, on far more than one occasion, I'd hit the ground under the window and simply ignore the doorbell ringing. This only worked when my mother was out, naturally.
Why did I do this? Some days I would just find that facing another human being was simply too much for me, even though in this case it was a person who I knew incredibly well and had known for as long as I could remember... Perhaps the rest really is no wonder then.
Friday, 2 December 2011
Socialisation vs Isolation
I've found myself in a conundrum of sorts lately. Such as my problem is, being around people for prolonged periods of time runs the risk of triggering me, setting me off and forcing me to flee to the nearest toilet stall. The more I'm around people, the closer I get to individuals and the more chance there is of them causing this negative emotional reaction (usually unintentionally of course). But at the same time, isolation is not the nicest of things to live in. Human nature makes us all inherently social animals, we are not born to live alone. Which leaves me with the predicament; painful, self-enforced exile or consistently fraught, often upsetting socialisation?
Right now neither really looks all that inviting to me, especially judging on the sheer number of times that I've been triggered since I've started trying to interact more with others. Some of my worst breakdowns have been the result of friends, started by just some seemingly insignificant comment or when they take just a little too long to reply to me online... Part of me thinks that it is excessively selfish to expose others to this, to force people who I've come to care about to put up with my volatility. Often I think about cutting the cord, pushing others away in order to protect them (and myself). But then again, most likely none of them have ever noticed this terrible effect they can have on me.
Still, there is safety in isolation. If only some individuals weren't so damned persistent, if only I hadn't let them get so close to me... Sadly my will power when it comes to such unpleasant matters has always been lacking. There is not the consistency in this being to follow through any resolution so difficult to enforce. At this rate it looks like there are going to be plenty more sudden trips to the toilet stalls for me before this gets any better.
Right now neither really looks all that inviting to me, especially judging on the sheer number of times that I've been triggered since I've started trying to interact more with others. Some of my worst breakdowns have been the result of friends, started by just some seemingly insignificant comment or when they take just a little too long to reply to me online... Part of me thinks that it is excessively selfish to expose others to this, to force people who I've come to care about to put up with my volatility. Often I think about cutting the cord, pushing others away in order to protect them (and myself). But then again, most likely none of them have ever noticed this terrible effect they can have on me.
Still, there is safety in isolation. If only some individuals weren't so damned persistent, if only I hadn't let them get so close to me... Sadly my will power when it comes to such unpleasant matters has always been lacking. There is not the consistency in this being to follow through any resolution so difficult to enforce. At this rate it looks like there are going to be plenty more sudden trips to the toilet stalls for me before this gets any better.
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