- unsociability, quietness, reservedness, seriousness, and eccentricity
- timidity, shyness with feelings, sensitivity, nervousness, excitability, and fondness of nature and books
- pliability, kindliness, honesty, indifference, silence, and cold emotional attitudes.
- neither desires nor enjoys close relationships, including being part of a family
- almost always chooses solitary activities
- has little, if any, interest in having sexual experiences with another person
- takes pleasure in few, if any, activities
- lacks close friends or confidants other than first-degree relatives
- appears indifferent to the praise or criticism of others
- shows emotional coldness, detachment, or flattened affect
Does this sound like me? It doesn't just sound like me. When I read this article for the first time, I had a weird, vertigous feeling that they were writing ABOUT me. I fit this description to a T. How do I feel about it? I feel a strange mixture of sadness and relief. Relief because I realize now that I'm not a coldhearted bitch, I'm not the only person who feels like this, I'm not going crazy, there's actually a name for the way I am. Sadness because.....I'm not sure how to fix it.
My mom doesn't think it's something that needs to be fixed...she says it's the way I am, that it's my personality and I shouldn't have to change it. But I know I'm not happy this way. At the same time that I disdain the company of normal people, there's also an intense longing for close friendship, to share my thoughts and ideas with someone who cares.
It all makes sense now! Why is it taking me so long to heal from the pain of being abandoned, outgrown, left behind by G? Because she grew up with me, she felt like she was a part of me, an extension of my being...and then we were apart for a while...and when we joined again, I was horrifically disappointed to realize that G had died and in her place was a shallow, hypocritical, normal person with no cares for where her stupid decisions are going to land her. She left me to be a carbon copy of the juvenile delinquents she calls her friends, she willingly chose alcohol and drugs and who had sex with who over deep conversations and sharing a soul with someone who understands you, someone who loves you with every inch of her being....no wonder I'm so hurt and angry. She's still there physically, but the person you loved desperately was murdered and kicked about of her mortal shell by the very sort of people that you can't stand. She was a part of my inner world and she left without so much as a backward glance. Of course I feel betrayed.
Some people describe heartbreak as a wound that eventually heals with time. I still feel the pain of every single heart break I've ever had! My first serious boyfriend in highschool, my stepfather telling me that my dad is a piece of shit who didn't want me (lying bastard), my godfather dying, every single rejection when I try for something I love....It doesn't fade or heal with time. I don't get cuts and bruises, I lose fingers and toes. When G left, she took my right arm with her and, no matter how many phantom pains I get or how badly I want it back, it's still going to be gone. My heart is an amputee! There is an empty place inside of me with raw, infected edges that will never heal because the flesh is gone. The very best I can hope for is that skin will eventually grow over the abraded edges and someday it won't hurt to touch that hollow place.
No wonder I have such a hard time opening up to someone. I don't know if you've ever heard of aversion training; if a rabbit experiences pain through electric shock every time it tries to eat, eventually it will come to associate food with pain and will starve to death rather than willingly go through that pain. That is how I feel. Every time I opened my heart to someone outside of family, they left me with another gaping hole in my being. Why should I keep putting myself through this pain? Being numb is better than losing more of myself.
I cannot sustain shallow friendships. I don't see the point of dealing with people if you don't have a deep connection with them, but there is a wall preventing me from touching someone. I've wanted to, and I've tried. But I get to a certain point in the friendship, usually right before saying "Hey, you want to hang out sometime?" And then the window slams shut. I can pound on the glass all I want, but I cannot get through to people. I'm tired of trying. I would rather be by myself and do my own things and just never leave the apartment instead of wasting all that energy on people who will never understand me. My kindness feels like a facade, a polite shell to keep people from hating me outright. At least now I understand why compliments leave me feeling numb but criticism fills me with righteous anger. Positive things? That counts as intimacy, shunt that aside. You think I'm a bad influence? That's a personal attack from someone I let close enough to talk to me. Screw you. What makes you think you have the right to judge me? You, who introduced your own children to pot and alcohol? Fuck off, I never asked for your opinion. Leave me alone.
Today at work as I was getting ready to leave, someone tried to hand me something and I said, without thinking "I'm not here. Well, I am here physically, but mentally I'm somewhere else. Like always." Which is true. I didn't realize how true it was until I said it. I have a world inside me that is safe, where I have a ton of friends who love me for who I am and will never judge me. I have been creating these friends since I was ten and they are still there. They've always been there and I know they will never leave me until I'm ready. Can you blame me? Isn't that the sort of friendship everyone craves? I was worried for the longest time that I'm crazy, but I think I'm just creative. I don't understand why people would put up with shallow, insecure, backstabbing people when they can create their own friends to keep them company, to whisper secrets to when no one else is around, to understand why you're hurting and that you just need someone to love you unconditionally. Even your child will eventually say "I hate you!" or the equivalent, will grow up and outgrow you and move away and only occasionally call. I don't want that kind of pain. I feel no drive to bring another person into this selfish world. I've always been that way and, unless I seek therapy, I think I always will be.
At least now I understand why 9/11 didn't shake me, but I can bawl over a tragic romance novel. Why I really didn't feel moved when the Chilean miners finally got out, but I feel a desperate need to know what's going to happen to my favorite book characters. The real world....doesn't feel real to me. It's like watching something through binoculars and choosing how to react from a list of options. I literally feel like I live inside myself as though it were a house, looking out through my window-eyes. I don't want to walk out that door; I have everything I need in here and outside there is broken glass, rabid dogs, rapists, serial killers, radiation, poison smog. Why would anyone want to go out there and interact with the other crazies on the streets? Why do people feel the need to be in a flock? The last time I was in a group of people I started getting short of breath. It's almost like claustrophobia, if claustrophobia was created by the sound of too many people talking at once instead of being shut in a dark box. Actually, the dark box sounds rather nice in comparison.
Many times I've felt that if I had no one depending on me, no one who loves me, I could lock myself away in my fantasy world with my pets (Dear, sweet animals...they give you unconditional love and only ask for care in return), my games and books and I would be perfectly happy until the end of time. People disappoint and disgust me and I want nothing to do with them. I don't care what they do. I don't care who the president of the united states is or if we have to pay a liquor tax or if the Chinese take over. If I can be by myself and entertain myself, that is the definition of peace in my mind.
I love my guy very much. We've been together for seven years and I feel closer to him than I do any other non-relative in this world...but sometimes I wonder...if I've truly opened my heart to him. How can you tell? Criticism from him stings, if that's any indication, yet sometimes I find myself analyzing him the same way I do everyone else. Sometimes I'll look at him and I feel my heart swell a little, but I ask myself if, out of fear, I instinctively throw up my walls. Am I afraid of intimacy? That could be. That could explain why, after seven years, I still feel no urge to get married and have babies. It could explain why I have one friend left and I still find it hard to open up to her.
I don't know if I can fix this....I don't know if it's something I can fix. We all have our demons and perhaps this is mine...to both abhor and crave human interaction, to say "Let me tell you my secrets" and "Get the fuck away from me" in the same breath, to have a desire to both share my inspiration with people and keep it to myself, looking down on people and counting their drawbacks.
At least now I know I'm not depressed.....just lonely. Now what am I going to do about it?
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