Another cold case

Once more, blogging without a plan (or a clue). Wish me luck.

I’ve been going through a lot of “stuff” inside my capacious noggin lately. I think my whole “the depressed me isn’t the real me” revelation has causes a lot of the bad stuff in my head to break free of the main mass of my inner glacier and now I am watching tit float out to sea to melt in southern climes.

But until that iceberg melts,. I will feel especially cold inside and have a feeling like I have eaten something very hard to digest that does NOT agree with me.

Like I swallowed an ice cube the size of a watermelon.

I struggle with myself daily. Fighting the depression, trying to uproot all the tentacles it has buried deep into my brain, arguing with that negative voice inside me that I call the Inner Prosecutor and feeling like I am not worth anything because I produce nothing of any consequence, despite my talents.

I think a lot of us grown-up child geniuses are still carrying the phantom of our “potential” around in our heads.

“You’re doing well, but you’re still not usinjg your full potential!” teachers would say.

Well here’s a thought – try challenging me. Everything in the normal curriculum is absurdly easy for me and so I see no need to strive. Accept that I am not a self-starter or an auto-didact and give me something that is as hard for me as regular school is for normal type students.

But no. They left me to be bored out of my gourd. I wish I had made more of a fuss about that. Made a nuisance of myself unless I had something to do.

“You could do so much if you just worked to your full potential!” said another teacher.

I’m sure you’re right. But what amazes me is how you can say that without irony when you’re the one completely failing to challenge me. Again : there is no chance I will suddenly transfoirm into the sort of kid who goes to the library and educates himself on every academic subject because he’s just that big of a keener.

I ain’t that kind of guy. Never will be. I read for pleasure. That means science fiction. I might right up on topics that interest me but never to the point of mastering a subject.

It was your job to keep me challenged and you failed. You chose to just label me “not a problem and needs no help” in your mind and forget me.

Just like everybody else.

“Sure, you’re a straight A student. but if you applied yourself a little more, you could turn those A’s into A+’s! ”

Seems like a lot of effort for so little a reward.

Honestly, though, that teacher had a point, I just couldn’t see it at the time. The point of getting those A+’s was scholarships. But nobody ever told me I was supposed to be trying to get those.

Nobody ever gave me any responsibility or imparted even the slightest impression to me that I was part of a family and therefore was expected to contribute to the group effort to get myself educated.

As far as I knew, all that was expected of me was that I get good grades, and that came naturally to me, so what’s the big deal?

If only someone had told me. I would haved loved to strive for scholarships because they would have been a way to win my parents’ approval and I wanted that more than anything in the world.

Or at least give me a little validation, for fuck’s sake.

Anyhow, my point is that I have felt this burden of my “potential” all my life, and with it comes the subtle oppression of higher standards.

With the whole education system knowing I am brilliant to the point of being utterly annoying. merely average grades would have been like failing grades to another. student. I felt this pressure to do more, more. more and yet I didn’t have the type of personality for whom that spurs them to become high-strung high-achievers.

That would be my sister Catherine. Love you, sis! I miss you so much. I even miss you nitpicking my table manners at dinner.

Hey, at least it showed you cared.

Instead of living up to my potential (whatever that means), I hid from it. It seemed like a huge restrictive responsibility to me that was far more than I could bear without it completely overwhelming me, and so I dodged it by not thinking about it.

And I still don’t like thinking about it. I am oinly getting to the point now where I can accept that I am exceptional and slowly take responsibility for my mental amazingness instead of simply negating it then shoving it into the back of my mind.

I guess what I am really afraid of is that if I take responsibility for my powers – if I “own” them – then I would have to DO stuff. Stuff that would take me out of ciozy little rat-hole without any way to escape, and thus be trapped naked in the spotlight.

So to speak.

And that’s one of my worst fears. To be unable to retreat from the harsh light of day into my dark little hole where nobody sees me or hears me or knows me.

Even though that could turn out to be the best thing for me because I would be forced to cope with the situation and evolve the skills to do so.

If you don’t endure, you don’t adjust, after all. Sure, that water seemed pretty cold when you dipped your toe into it, but look at all the people having a good time swimming. Surely that means it can’t be THAT bad.

In fact. it’s just barely possible that they know something you don’t. which is that the coldness fades away if you stay in for long enough and after that, it’s fine.

But you will never learn that if you stay on shore.

So go out there and get wet!

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.