Sunday, February 19, 2017

Sick of Always Sorting Me Out

I'm a bit on the neurotic side. If you know me in real life, you probably know that. Even if you only know me from here, there's a good chance you know that, too. I'm animated with a tendency to overdramatize situations. You know how Buffy is a metaphor for the way teenagers feel like everything is the end of the world? Well, make me an honorary Scooby because I'm still in that developmental phase. Several years ago I was called hyperemotional and much more recently told I was draining with an overwhelming personality.

Although the person who told me I was draining with an overwhelming personality was Griffin and it's probably pretty normal for a seventeen-year-old to feel that way about his mom, the accusation initially upset me. When I mentioned it to my ex-Glenn a few days later, he didn't say anything about the draining part, but the overwhelming part he got right behind. He's obviously not rolling in the credibility when it comes to clear judgment of me, though, so I text a friend of mine, told her what Griffin said, and asked her if she agreed. She responded that I sometimes have bad anxiety and that leads to a somewhat draining experience at times and if she had to say yes or no, she'd say yes. She then told me I could change if I really wanted to and that by my questioning her, I was actually draining her right then. A few days later she sent me a link titled "You (and Your Therapist) Can Change Your Personality--Science of Us," which she admitted she only skimmed when after reading it, I found that it said inherent personality can't actually be changed at all.

I felt bad about the exchange, bad enough to complain it about to a friend I had brunch with last weekend, and obviously bad enough to write about it right now although feeling bad isn't really the reason I'm writing but rather because of the marked difference in an exchange I had with someone else today. One of the things my friend who agreed I was draining mentioned was my body obsession. Now, admittedly, I'm a little on the crazy side when it comes to my weight, but that's a disorder. Obsession with my weight was ingrained in me starting when I was about two, and it's going nowhere anytime soon. About that, she wrote this: "Even if you want to ask me if you look fat for the 17th time in a 2 hour period [which is a gross exaggeration btw; in fact, I haven't asked her anything about looking fat since January 15 when she told me she would 'no longer be participating in body critiques'], work on looking in the mirror and telling yourself you look great so you don't feel the urge to do that. Cause that shit is draining."

So now for what happened today. I was messaging back and forth with someone who I've probably talked to about the same thing five thousand times and when, at the end, I thanked her for putting up with my craziness, she responded that she didn't mind at all and thanked me for putting up with hers, too, to which I responded pretty much the same. Although she's not at all crazy at all, I responded that way because even if she were, I wouldn't care. Even if she called or text me every single day at the same time with the same question/issue/fear, I wouldn't mind because that's what people who care about people are supposed to do. They're supposed to put up with the neurosis, the drama, the issues, the fears. They're not supposed to say they're all about being supportive or empathetic but only to a certain degree because after having told someone something once or twice if that person doesn't take their advice, that's the person's own fault.

That's just not how friendship works.
It's also not empathetic at all.

Now, I'm not saying this person isn't my friend. She's been my friend for a long time, and I'm not looking to put our relationship out. I'm just noticing a self-centered trend that I have absolutely no desire to be a part of. I will never tell a friend I won't participate in his or her ___________ anymore because I think s/he shouldn't be that way. I will never think somebody else's feelings aren't as valid as mine.

Incidentally, in the past couple of weeks since the being called overwhelming thing and the text telling me how I could change, I've thought about it a lot, and I mean, a lot, a lot--neurotic, remember?--and I've decided that if I'm overwhelming then I'm overwhelming. Just like I took the hyperemotional thing as a sort of compliment--because my God, who doesn't want to feel?--I'm taking that as one, too.

Namby-pamby is the last thing I want to be. 

Monday, January 23, 2017

Why Does Everything Fall Apart Even When It's Glued Together?

First, let me start this blog by apologizing to the reader who loves to tell me to die. It's been such a long time since I last posted, you may have thought I actually took your advice. But bubble? Let me introduce you to my pin.

Now that my sincere apology is out of the way, that long time since posting? Let's discuss.

I haven't posted since September 25, by far the longest amount of time I've gone without writing a blog since I started blogging, both here and on the long-since-deleted Hudsy's Girl (and any other blog I may have had that I can't remember now). After the whole getting-spanked thing, I wasn't in the mood to do much other than reflect on my life and the situations I always seem to be getting myself into plus it was right about that time that I picked up a hobby that takes up a ton of my time (which will not be mentioned for reasons you'll soon read), and if I add my wallowing to that hobby and throw in my propensity to waste time doing absolutely nothing, you get just that...absolutely nothing. By Thanksgiving I felt like writing again and totally had plans to sit down and write my annual "Happy Holiday, You Bastard!" post, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. A few weeks later, on Christmas or maybe New Year's, I intended to do it again, but more of the same. I just couldn't make myself write that post, and well, that's what I'm here to discuss: "Happy Holiday, You Bastard!" and why I just can't write it.

For those of you who don't regularly read me, I like to do an annual holiday blog in which I make a list of things for which I'm thankful and then discuss. My last one was full of things for which I'm thankful as was the one before that, similar to a birthday post from last year where I also discuss specific things that make me happy. It's a blog I've always enjoyed writing and like I said, totally wanted to write this year. So why didn't I write it?

You know how people are always telling other people to count their blessings? To be grateful for whatever they have because they don't know when it will be taken away? To appreciate the things they've been given? Well, I've done all of those things, and I have to tell you, as soon as I acknowledge anything good in my life, it pretty much immediately goes bad. You think I'm crazy, I'm sure, and maybe I am (just ask my older son. He'll affirm this for you, I have no doubt) but not because of this. For evidence, though, let's do a little not-so-long-in-the-past investigation.

That birthday post I talked about? From 2016? A copied and pasted excerpt:

In mid December, I started running regularly again, and this year I'm on track to run 600 miles, which is 97 miles more than I ran this one. Here I am writing right this second. I read a book over Christmas break. I lost five pounds.

And from my last "Happy Holiday, You Bastard!"? Let me copy and paste a little more: [I'm thankful for] My car. Mermaid is her name, getting me wherever I want to go is her game. 

Okay. That second copy and paste? Where I talk about being thankful for Mermaid? November (and let the record show that not only did I post about my love for her in that blog, but I talked about her often. I'm keeping her forever, I would say. I never want a car payment again). The first one when I talk about running again and losing five pounds? January 17.

January 19, two days later?

I'm sure you know what I'm about to say because how could you not, but I'll say it anyway. There I was crossing the street in front of my house when a woman made an illegal u-turn right in front of my car which caused me to crash into her, which caused my airbags to inflate, which caused my car to be declared a total loss and my calf to somehow get injured, which caused me to not be able to run, which caused me to get depressed and also to gain that five pounds right back, and I swear to God if I'd never said anything about being thankful for my car, my running, and my five pound weight loss, none of it ever would have happened at all.

Need more convincing? Well, don't worry. More convincing I've got.

To summarize (I'd say for the sake of brevity, but we're long past that), I also, in my last Happy Holiday post, talked about being thankful for my family unit and for Alex because she makes Griffin so happy and blah blah blah, I'd vomit all over if it weren't my table I'd be vomiting on. Not long after that post, Alex and Griffin became Sid and Nancy, and sometimes things are so bad, I'm not kidding when I say that I hope that analogy proves itself wrong, but the other one that comes to mind is Kurt and Courtney, and well, that one is just as bad and in some ways, worse.

And the Happy Holiday post before that when I say "Griffin. Soulmate. Capital S" and express thanks for five years of Friday afternoon coffee dates and joke about following him to college so they can continue? One, those coffee dates didn't need college to come to an end; two, the capital S in soulmate wasn't as big as I thought; and three, please don't even get me started on college if you don't want me to cry.

There's more, of course, but I'm thinking that's enough evidence to prove my point.

From here on out, if something good happens, do not expect to hear it from me.