That place. Embarassed. Sometimes I hate being me.

Again, I traveled down a picturesque road in my head determined to show what I see . I made everyone uncomfortable. I was disrespectful of an opinion, a professional opinion, and was “stuck” in what I was getting at, or hearing, or saying. I could not move from it. I could not really hear all the words you said to help me understand something that was “not” why we were all there. I was rude, apparently…I was angry, and defensive and stubborn and “stuck” again.

I suddenly had this feeling like I had done something wrong, perhaps it was because I myself knew I could not stop, could not think of anything else, was tuned out of outside life then. I always “never say the right thing” and don’t understand what “I should have said.” I just don’t get it…I have this deja vu type feeling-an “inkling” that maybe I went there.

There. Is a place that I frequent (obviously) – determined by the amount of conflict (large and small) that I  run into when interacting with other people and when verbal language is exchanged.  I use any of the words that most relate to something (like a word association) to get some description out of my head. It’s like I use a thousand words going on and on and on trying to get to the centre- the “thing” I’m trying to say and I go in circles around the centre and people get the wrong message. I’m failing, most of the time. There is when I understand that I was either rude, opinionated, arrogant, something or other and I didn’t realize it till after when other things make me understand this. An expression and words from a close person (spouse), a nasty message about how I am, or someone “de-friends” me 😦  I would not know until I felt consequence by some action. Ostracized. Shamed. Shamed for not being how we are “supposed” to be.  It’s like this feeling I possibly did something wrong but can’t “see” me, or “it” ever so I am not quite sure. I wait for the fallout afterwards. I wish it was videotaped so I can learn. I can improve things when I can see how they are supposed to run, operate, go, act…I have to have a visual representation in my head to know where to go.

Again, I am there. I feel embarrassed of how I am or what I am like. Because I would never want to alienate, disrespect, be arrogant. My intentions aren’t to get you mad or frustrated with me but that is often the case. My intentions are because there is something deeper, that is important to me. Why not discuss.I guess it’s because I cannot express myself clearly or think ahead of anything I am about to say. I feel sorry, and shamed. I am there at that place where I am hiding in my room because the looks, comments, experience told to me by a present person helps me understand that whatever I was like, it wasn’t good.Combative, stuck, and as I heard later..”spectrumy” although I’m really unsure of what that means because I can’t see what they saw.

I don’t get it though, I don’t remember it or “get” a lot of it but know that there is that after effect thing of me being me. Sometimes, I just want to be different. To be normal. To not be like this. It’s embarrassing. I feel really bad about myself. I don’t feel sorry because I’m sorry for speaking my thoughts but because I’m sorry because I’m embarrassed if that makes sense…maybe there is something wrong with me. I just don’t want to be like that at all.

I can’t look at the world when I’m embarrassed. Not you, or anyone. Open space, ugh..I feel like the whole world is watching me and I have to hide. So embarrassed to be me. It’s like a mixture of deep sorrow, sadness and embarrassment at same time. Then I’m worn out. I have to retreat into own self and space. Goodbye world, hello mind. Words can’t even make it to my mouth to speak anymore aloud.

 

 

 

I promise I care.

I don’t want you to feel bad. I don’t like to make anyone feel bad. I can’t help but make you feel bad. 

I do care. I know out there it doesn’t seem like it. I do all the things that make you feel I don’t care but I do. I care intensely. Somuch that things get too fuzzy, and I don’t have words to put to things I feel and see. I care. I know I care about me more. I am not a narcissist. It’s something else.

When you talk to me about important things or difficult subjects-it feels like there is lightning flashing out there beside me. I have to look at it. It’s distracting me. It’s taking my attention away. It’s so fascinating that I can’t get down to you, in front, focused, and feel something about what you are trying to say to me. I hear mumbles of the words and nod my head and try to glance at you like I am paying attention. I am cut off from those feelings in this moment. I try not to go there. I hate that intensity. I don’t want to open that door right now. I can’t adjust after. I need to just do things. I can’t have all those “things” (emotions and complexities) clogging my brain up right now….I must survive today. I must accomplish something…please stop.

I’m busy, I say. Sorry, I care but I’m just so distracted today. Oh, ugh, can’t concentrate right now….remind me in a few, Ic an’t manage this right now. I’m trying to do xyz. I’ll do this first then be able to listen. Or talk. I can focus later….not right now please…can you go do xyz please first, do you mind? You see, I have an art of distraction….it has and serves a purpose.

For myself, and for others.

I distract you so I don’t have to deal with what was going to come. I panicked. I appear aloof. Busy, distracted. In my own little world. I try to come out sometimes. I hate when you try to pull me out. Exhausting. Hard. I want to stay where I am. It’s cozy. It’s comfortable. I hate that cold space out there. The unknown. The exhausting. I hate gauging.

Myself, and others. I just want to be myself. But, I hurt you. I hurt others. I appear I don’t care. I don’t do the things I am “supposed” to do. To make you feel better. To drop my things in my head and care. To feel that. I don’t understand. I can feel my things more. More intensely. I don’t want to be unkind. So, let’s just not talk about it. I hate to feel I am selfish. That I am not empathetic. Because I do care. I care. I care. I care. 

I just don’t seem like I do. No one knows me.