What the hell, time to vent some negatives.
Warning, the following is going to have a lot of stuff I have said before.
In retrospect, I guess I could have foreseen that watching this vid would stir shit up :
The first way they fucked me over is by never wanting me in the first place. Patient readers know I was an accident. In fact, I defied the odds to be born because after my brother Dave was born, my mother had her tubes tied.
So that was one tricky sperm.
Having never wanted me, they resented me. I was an unwanted intruder who suddenly showed up and demanded a share of the resources – physical and emotional – when they already were only just scraping by.
So instead of making room for me, they ignored me. Pretended like I had never happened. Never gave me an equal share of anything.
And because they didn’t. neither did my siblings.
This became especially true when I grew out of my “cute” phase. Like an Xmas puppy, they lost interest in me when I made the mistake of becoming a dog. I went from being a happy kid who was often the center of attention because he was precocious and charming cute to being, like I have said many times before. an unwanted guest who has overstayed their welcome but cannot leave.
And maybe I would have rebelled, demanded my fair show, and elbowed my way to a seat at the metaphorical table if I hadn’t been raped by a stranger when I was four.
This forced me to seal away most of my id and turned me from a confident, sociable, slightly smug boy to a timid, cowering, doormat who was afraid to even have needs let alone voice them, because any time he even looked like he was asking for something, it was treated like a bandit raid. Like I had just shown up out of nowhere and demanded their treasure and blood.
This is what happens when you spend most of the time pretending one of your children never happened and doesn’t exist. When you actively edit them out of your consciousness and on all levels make them collaborate with them on this.
“Michael, don’t draw attention to yourself. ” said my father many times.
Why the hell not, Dad? Everyone else does.
Oh right, because you resent my very existence.
So I grew up extremely passive. Unable to ask for what I wanted or pursue my own needs in any way, I learned to just wait in the darkness and hope that my masters would see my need and bestow a boon upon me in a moment of absentminded benevolence.
This almost never happened. So I starved in silence and stayed in the shadows, filled with terrible guilt for the crime of being born and having needs of my own.
Well, it’s taken me more than 40 years, but I have finally figured out that I deserve to live. That I have the same right to be here as anyone else, and that I am not a burden, a liability, or a crime.
I will just have to build myself back up from there.
More after the break.
Because I’m sure there’s more I want to get out today.
I just don’t know what.
I don’t know what love is
I’m like a reverse Forrest Gump – I’m a smart man, but I don’t know what love is.
I can’t think of a time when I felt loved and included and accepted. Maybe before the rape, but at no time after.
It’s been one long trudge through an airless emotional wasteland since then. The rape is what made me seal so much of myself off, but there was not my encouragement from life to unseal anything either.
Rather the opposite. It was cold as hell in my little life. Outside my little bunker there was nothing but loneliness, boredom, and fear.
Social isolation made it lonely. My advanced intellect made it boring. And bullying kept me scared to open the door even a crack.
So I became a robot who went to school. It’s shocking to look back and see how terribly alone I was back then. It’s all so very wrong. No child should grow up that alone.
I went to school. I came home. I watched TV. I read. I played video games. Then I went to bed and got up the next day and did the same thing again.
The whole time, I was alone. Not physically, obviously. But emotionally. There were no other presences in my life. No friends, no parents, no siblings, nothing.
They were there, but they weren’t there for me.
Or maybe it’s me that wasn’t really there. I dunno.
Because I know I was very hard to reach. That’s what happens when you withdraw so deeply into yourself that you might as well be on a distant planet. Nobody can get to you, which is both the tragedy and the point.
People tried, now and then. But I didn’t know how to let them in. They would try to make contact with my tiny outpost and succeed in making contact with me but completely fail to actually connect with me emotionally.
Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe it was impossible. Maybe my antenna was broken forever when I got raped.
Or maybe I am just on a very different frequency. I have an FM mind in an AM world.
But I do not know what love is. I can’t even imagine it because I have not had it. The closest I get to it is a warm sense of camaraderie I feel when I am with my friends.
That warmth, lovely as it is, doesn’t penetrate very deep. I am still cold and frozen at the core, and more than a little dead inside.
Romantic love? Not likely. Kind of hard to find love when you have social anxiety.
And it’s not like I am going to start a family.
So I guess this is it. Life in the deep freeze, forever.
Oh well. The cold never bothered me anyway.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.