I’ve never belonged anywhere.
Not even in my own goddamned family.
Even there, I was isolated. I was never welcomed in to the family. I never even for a heartbeat felt like they had my back. Nor did I ever feel like there would be someone there to catch me if I fell. I never had anyone watching over me. I never had anyone to turn to when I was upset. I never even had anybody to talk to.
Forget about fitting in at school. I was ostracized almost from day 1. My fellow students treated me like a leper. The teachers barely tolerated me. My school days were the classic killer stress cocktail of boredom and terror.
Even when I had friends, it was clear that I didn’t belong with them. And they made sure I knew that.
The closest I ever came to belonging was when I was with my friends in my UPEI days. When we were hanging out having fun and playing games, I relaxed some. There was still a strong undercurrent of anxiety present at all times, but at last I was among fellow nerds who understood me and I understood them.
And by the end of my second year at UPEI, I was finally starting to blossom.
So my parents had to come pull the plug on THAT by taking me out of university.
Since then, I have been a world unto myself. Even when I am hanging out and watching stuff with my friends, whom I love dearly, the majority of my being remains trapped in icy isolation behind a thick wall of anxiety, numbness, and fear.
It’s a wonder that I didn’t end up being a serial killer.
There’s still time, though.
More after the break.
The eternal outsider
Having been on the outside all my life, I really have no idea what it feels like to belong.
What is it like to actually relax around others? To trust them enough to be my genuine self and not the filtered version the world knows?
Remember, everything you see is real.
But you don’t see everything. Not by a long shot.
I worry that certain very important parts of my psyche related to relating to others have died from stimulation starvation and will never come back.
That my antenna is permanently broken and therefore my great and powerful loneliness cannot and will not ever be broken.
It certainly feels that way. There are people who love me and care about (and for) me, and I am very grateful for that… but I don’t feel it.
It’s hard to feel the sunlight when the sun is so very far away. I wish it wasn’t so. I feel terrible about not being able to feel that love.
It makes me feel… ungrateful. Like they keep sending me gifts and I leave them to rot on the porch.
Depression is a cold-hearted bitch. Being crazy sucks.
I am just so goddamned numb from the cold of my isolated life.
I hope my heart hasn’t died from it all.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.