Have this idea of mine on heavy rotation in my head lately, and so I thought I would write it down here so I can work on it some.
Picture this idea as being up on blocks with my legs sticking out from underneath and faint little ratchet sounds emanating from underneath.
The friendly alien is a way of trying to imagine a version of myself that would get along okay with others without a lot of awkwardness I experience right now.
The idea is that if I somehow presented to the world as someone who is clearly quite friendly but also clearly not of this Earth, it would give people the two most important pieces of information about me :
- I’m a very nice fellow
- I’m extremely weird.
I think if people knew those things before dealing with me, things would go a lot more smoothly. They would know I was approachable and sociable and likable, but at the same time they would know not to expect normal behaviour from me,
I mean well. But I’m weird.
Pursuant to that, I find the idea quite comforting. It warms me to imagine that I might be able to interact with people on a warm and casual level without all my tension and fear and issues getting in the way.
It’s how I have always wanted to relate to people. Stuff just keeps getting in the way.
Of course, in the real world, the idea would need to be brought down to Earth a little (so to speak) and translated into something more doable.
I mean, I could walk around with my face painted green and wearing neon yellow deely bobbers, but I think that would raise more questions than it answers.
Still, not a bad idea for a Halloween costume.
But there must be a way to convey that kind of information via my general attitude and demeanor. Some way of telling people I am both nice and weird without having to just blurt it out when I meet people.
That would probably be very awkward.
I suppose I could invest in T-shirts that get the idea across. Something super nerdy but also friendly and funny.
That describes me pretty well.
Of course, odds are that a lot of the problems I think I would be solving with such an approach are figments of my neurosis and the real solution would be to get the hell over myself, pretend I am at least passably normal, and go out and relate to people.
There is nothing that says poor childhood socialization is a permanent trauma. It’s entirely possible that if I was to hang out with more healthy people while keeping my ravening neurosis in check, I would actually pick up the social cues I didn’t get as a child and become a lot more socially healthy.
Or at the very least, I would get better at faking it.
And I would also get important feedback on what sort of thoughts I should share and which will just alienate people.
I am pretty sure I could learn to be less of an alien.
I just need to get over myself and put in an honest effort.
This message has been from Your Dad.
More after the break.
The deep dark truth
This is going to hurt like hell.
I know why I had no friends as a child and it wasn’t simply because the world is a cruel inhuman place where I was the constant victim of barbaric cruelty,.
I’m too old for that kind of fair tale.
No, I had no friends when I was a child, when someone tried to befriend me, I would end up freaking out and heading for the hills.
Makes me wonder if befriending me was even possible.
It would start out fine. That’s because at the beginning, my friendliness and need for connection with otherwise would be much stronger than my fears, and that would lead to my accepting the overture of friendship and do my best to get along.
But before long, the glow of friendliness would fade away and the dark chill of my anxiety would take over and before you know it, I am looking for the exit.
And yet, I am still acting friendly. That’s what really get me about all this. I am still;smiling and nodding along as I am edging towards the door, and when I make my big escape, the poor person must have been mystified as to what the hell happened and – big breath, leaning in – must have felt like I rejected them in a particularly deep and permanent way.
So they never tried again. Who could blame them?
Meanwhile, I am just relieved to be out of the tension producing scene. I am not giving any thought to the person I left behind. From my innocently callous point of view, I was very good at getting along without friends and I went into it without friends and came out of it without friends, so no loss, right?
If only I had visibly freaked out or even overtly rejected the person. Then they would have closure, at least. They would have been able to firmly conclude that I was a weirdo or an asshole (or both) and gone on with their lives.
But no. I behaved one way while acting another and never gave people any clear signal as to what the heck was going on.
I remember Shirley Cormier. Very nice girl. Lived around the corner. Invited me to her room. We hung out. I got freaked out. I fled.
I feel bad for that now. That poor girl. She tried to befriend the sad lonely weird kid in the neighborhood but I was too messed up to accept.
I can’t help but blame my lack of kindergarten.
So that’s the deep down dirt on me. I know that I was just a kid and it’s not my fault that I was far too crazy to accept people’s friendship.
But for now, I feel terrible about the whole thing, and I am going to sit with that feeling until it goes away on its own.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.