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June 11, 2001: while you were looking the other way
I knew things would change, post-integration. I knew there would be feelings and capabilities that would shift once I was unable to sustain two (or three, or seven, or thirteen) opposed viewpoints on things. I knew things would shift as I searched for ground zero.
I didn't expect some of the fundamentals of my life to be called into question as I gathered myself up and sifted through my thoughts and feelings. I didn't expect to start questioning what I'm doing and feeling as I try to figure out what I feel about various issues. I thought I would recieve these things half-resolved, the integration having taken care of most of it.
Instead, I am left with building blocks with raw and bleeding edges.
Take my feelings about other people in general, for instance.
I know these things about myself:
By nature, I am an extreme introvert.
I do like the company of other people.
I need daily intensive alone time--and time at work doesn't count.
I'm very compliant, and try to please people as best I can.
I have difficulty saying no to a direct request, especially if I think the other person is going to argue with my no.
I can be comfortable inside of a crowd and at the same time be desperately longing for escape.
Trying to balance my desire to be social (and the desire of other people to be social with me) and my overwhelming desire to be alone is turning out to be difficult. I always have a good time when I'm out, I really do, but it takes so much *energy* to keep an eye on everyone and stay engaged and present when there are people around. And I love the time I spend alone like i love nothing else in the world. It's only when I'm alone that I can be simply myself; with people around there's always a part of me that's processing and reflecting them, being a "good" social interactor. Most people do this without thinking about it, but i have to think about it and actively do it. It comes from the fact that I'm also always actively shielding when I'm around people, and so instead of being able to rely on my empathy to give me cues, i have to rely on plain old body language and tone of voice.
And it's a difficult thing for me to resolve, to have to reach far back into myself and dredge up the occassional "no", even while i'm dreading that whoever I'm saying no to will hate me forever afterwards. I'm getting better at it, but I honestly doubt I will ever be good at the word no.
But this is all specifics, and where I am right now is very much in the general. It's overwhelmingly large. The question posed is, "Are you happy with your life and what you're doing with it?"
And my answer, right now, is, "I don't know." The recurring depression is a sign that *something* is awry. I have ideas what might be wrong, but I'd hate to speculate and then be wrong later. I know the direction the wrongness is in, though, and that direction terrifies me.
I'm not looking. I'm not looking. I'm not.
Not now, at least.
I'm concentrating, right now, on being a good, unselfish person. I am concentrating on being good for the people around me. And doing a little emotional work in my own garden, waiting for that vine over in the corner to bloom before I decide if I'm going to encourage it or if I'm going to rip it out, roots and all.
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