It is September 21st, 2017, my birthday, and I’m officially 48-years-old: an old fart…
Its 11:25 in the morning and I just had an appointment with my psychiatrist and took time to review where I’m at now. Honestly, I’ve been too busy. While I’m grateful to be on track, everything is happening at fast pace and at the rate I’m on going I won’t get a day off until I can move to a different schedule for my weekend job. I’m trying my best to carve out time out for myself whenever I have a spare minute. However, I realize this schedule can continue for very long.
I’m in the car right now trying to make the most of this drive time, and I’m dictating this post on a handy-dandy app I downloaded onto my phone….
I have this theory that life comes with its bitter pill we must swallow. I know this sounds a bit “Debbie Downer” of me, but bear with me. As I see it, this bitter pill represents an undeniable yet ugly truth of our lives. If we face it directly it causes us more pain then we’re prepared or willing to feel. So what we do is we engage in a willful denial of facts and create a reality that deletes these ugly truth out of the equation. The problem with this, is we end up perpetuating what we deny
We seek answers in the wrong places and end up chasing our tails like a hamster on a wheel. As a reformed-fuck-up, I’ve come to understand that the only way out is through. The truth will set you free.
(I realize I’ve said this elsewhere on this blog before. However, it bears repeating here.)
I feel like that kid in the emperor has no clothes fable who points out that the king is naked and gets in trouble for simply stating facts.
It’s truly a crazy making experience to be told that I’m supposed to treat truth as bullshit and bullshit is truth. Its as if those in my past expected me to help them deny what they hated to see. I was expected to collude with others in the maintenance of the pretty, self-deceptive realities we shared. Unseen facts were my crosses to bear and theirs to benefit from since I was too young to know better.
If you’re a first-time visitor I’m sure this makes absolutely no sense. In this case, I suggest you read through my blog. I’m frankly not in the mood now to provide a detailed accounting of this experience.
My point is, I have this life to look back upon that is very lonely in the truest sense of the word. This loneliness – (in part at least) – meant my daily life was lacking in meaningful companionship, interaction, and belonging. I’m at a point in my life now where I am not willing to pay a price for the ignorance of others – even if this does mean I must watch them hurting. I must speak my truth and can’t afford to save others at my expense. I do not expect others to change or if knowledge my truth.
In this blog post I want to tell my side of the story: (or at least the Cliff Notes version of it)
As I write these words my mind is filled with memories of a childhood where I felt like a defendant in the court of public opinion. I was deemed guilty before I had a chance to speak on my behalf. Nobody took time to understand what I was going through. It’s not that they didn’t give a fuck or pretending not to notice….
…they just had more “pressing matters” to deal with and I wasn’t exactly high on their list of priorities.
Today when I speak with people who knew me as a kid – (whether family, friends or acquaintances) – it’s like a bad acid trip. Through the eyes of all those who know me, I am able to see a version of myself that is always distorted and never flattering. Instead, it is stereotypical and glossed over. When viewing these preconceived versions of me side-by-side, I feel I’m walking through a hall of mirrors
No one took time to understand where I was coming from, when they drew their conclusions. Instead they acted as judge and jury. I was screwed from the outset. You see, acknowledging me has meant facing ugly truths previously swept under the rug. My only regret is I did not stand up for myself sooner in life.
As that man in a monkey suit, I struggle to break free, but the zipper is stuck. I ask someone to help me but they don’t notice my inner struggle. You see I’m just a stupid monkey. I urge them from within to look inside but they can’t see behind this frickin mask. All I say and do is contextualized within this preconceived notion. These preconceptions render the truth of who I am essentially invisible to all – including myself. All that can be seen is this thick layer of bullshit ideas thrown my way.
There’s a standard and legal profession that I’m sure you’ve heard before: beyond a reasonable doubt. So they’ll does this mean?
So in my defense, what facts can be brought forth the produce doubts about the conclusions mad about me in the court of public opinion? What follows is listing of unacknowledged facts – in no particular order that provide a solid argument against these judgments rendered upon me in the court of public opinion:
To continue click the links below
When examining the origins of my pathological naivety I must say it comes down to the fact that life developed a one-sidedness based on others’ opinions and my inability to see beyond them.
I have had to examine my own personal narrative to include information that had been previously overlooked. This idea of me being not good enough has haunted and perplexed me much of my life. And until I was willing to confront the traumas of my past, I had no idea why people reacted to me as they did. I just knew it was hurtful and made no sense. With no one guiding me there to help me, I naturally blamed myself. Within me was the thought I’m worthwhile person. Around me everyone had these terrible things to say coming out of left field
As far back as I can remember, I’ve always been an optimal target for bullies. In fact, as the “girl with the cooties”, bullying has always been a constant issue: from kindergarten at St. Agnes up through high school graduation. Admittedly, the bullies changed from year to year, but they all saw me the same way. I was the perfect target: I am highly sensitive and don’t fight back….For those who have never been bullied, you’d be surprised to learn that the actual bullying isn’t the worst of it. The collateral damage it sustains upon your social life is devastating. You see, when you get picked on often enough at school people start to notice and a reputation develops. Now a “loser”, you’re essentially walking around with a scarlet letter tattooed to your forehead. Hapless bystanders, silently observe the altercations but do nothing. Instead they pretend not to notice. Fearing for their own well-being and hoping to retain their status within the social hierarchy, you’re now a social leper. A “dork-by-association” rule starts to govern all social interactions with you. Should someone dare say “hi” or strike up a conversation, they’ll hear about it later: “what the hell are you doing hanging out with that wierdo?!?!”