Let’s tackle my delusion that there is no place in the world where I belong.
I started out life unwanted. As patient readers know, I was unplanned.
Very unplanned. I beat my mother’s tubal ligation to be here. She really thought she wasn’t fertile any more, and boy did I prove her wrong.
And so from the very first, I felt like I didn’t fit in even within my own family. For my entire life, there’s been my parents, my siblings, and then little old me on an island all alone.
No wonder I never really learned to connect with others. I didn’t even connect with my own family in many ways.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I connected with my mother when I was very young. I think that’s the only reason I did not turn out to be totally autistic or at least very Aspie.
When I was an itty bitty kid, my mother would read to me at night before bed, which I absolutely loved. The Narnia Chronicles, Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking glass, and Huckleberry Finn.
With my mother doing different voices for the characters and everything. It was magic.
Plus, we would sit at the kitchen table and she would play guitar and we would sing.
Then she went back to work.
Oh right, the point.
Apart from those early memories, I had no real place in the world, even in my own family. I had a babysitter, which was also good and probably the other half of the reason I did not end up with more than one tentative toe on the autism spectrum.
I didn’t fit in at school either. Never learned to connect with my other students or make friends. I had opportunities to make friends but it never worked out. Usually I was simply unable to relate to the other kid and defaulted to keeping my own autonomy.
Too bad. Might have learned something if I had stuck it out. I tried to get along with the people who tried to befriend me but they could tell that part of me wanted to get out of the situation as soon as possible because part of me was freaking out.
So I guess I was going into those situations already pretty damaged. If I had been a more stable and confident kid, I would have adapted. Rolled with the punches while I tried to figure shit out.
But there was all that anxiety getting in the way. As usual.
Makes me wonder whether a more active anti-anxiety medication, like Xanax and such, would do me a lot of good if I used it right before a potentially anxiety-inducing situation.
Something that would block my anxiety enough that I could connect with and relate to people and get myself some much needed positive human interaction.
I will ask my therapist about it when I see him this Thursday. In theory, it could open the door to some very therapeutic situations.
Or at the very least, help me have a good time now and then.
More after the break.
I’ve sort of stayed on topic. More than usual, at least.
What I have been trying and failing to get to is that I have never felt like there was a place for me in this world. I’ve felt that no matter where I go, I will not fit in, and that it’s better to just stay by myself because, as it turns out, being alone is a million times better than being with others and feeling alone.
VFS reinforced this feeling. I thought that maybe I would fit in with other creative type people who wanted to work in TV, but no, not only did I still have very little in common with my fellow sentient primates, but there was also a generation gap as well.
So nope. Didn’t fit in there, either. Just like everywhere else.
I’m basically a species of one, or at least that’s how it feels a lot of the time. I understand completely why some people in my position come to the conclusion that they are something other than human on the inside.
After all, it’s far better to be a fully functional alien, or angel, or wizard, or anthro fox, or whatever else on the inside than to be what you really are, which is a broken human.
I have no such beliefs to support my feelings of otherness (for example, I don’t feel like I am “really” Fruvous the Moxy Foxy on the inside) and so I am fully aware that all I really am is a fucked up human who did not get any of the right emotional nutrients in my formative years and hence grew up stunted and malformed on the inside.
Like one of those kids rescued from a horribly neglectful and abusive home environment who are 8 but look like they are 5 due to malnutrition.
Except for them, a lot of the damage can be reversed via proper nutrition and good caretaking, and I have no idea what it would take for me.
Probably a lot of things you can’t get as an adult male, I would imagine.
The question remains : is there a place for me in the world? I said it was a delusion when I started today’s entry, but now I am not so sure.
I’m not just weird, I’m a weird kind of weird. It could be that no matter where I went, I would feel out of place, because the fault is not in the world but within myself.
At the very least, it would take some very strong, solid, and reliable positive emotional input sustained over a long period of time. A kind of intensive therapy for the soul.
It would have to go on strong and long in order to melt through the layers of snow and ice of many winters in order finally melt my frozen fragile heart.
Then I might be able to finally get the socialization I needed so badly and never got when I was of kindergarten age.
Because I never went to kindergarten.
And it turns out that;s kind of a big deal.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.