I hate/love days like this.
If you read yesterday’s blog entry, then you know of the guy I am talking about here. After I posted the blog entry yesterday, he apparently went on and read it and commented on my Facebook page that he believes that people who have panic attacks are like “children having a temper tantrum”, people who have these attacks “lack self control”, and to call it a disorder is “pushing it”.
For my entire life, I have thought of myself as weird. I was different. No one else that I knew had these night terrors, no one else spent whole nights in the emergency room, no one else was tortured. People like this guy remind me that I am different. 18 million others are “different” like me, but all you “normals” make it seem like I am the only one who has this, and it is because you have never experienced it. You normals place a stigma on it and make us non-normals feel shitty just for having (yes, it is) a disorder.
Well, to that I say… Go live your cookie cutter life. I mean, I have thought the most profound thoughts, gained the most wisdom and intelligence, I have learned the most about my body and my mind BECAUSE of this disorder. This disorder makes me strive for understanding, it gives me compassion for other’s sufferings. I could go home from work and crack open a beer and stare at a television, but I don’t. I explore the mind. I explore art. I explore communication and expression and emotions. If that makes me a “weirdo”, as this guy called me, then, BRING ON THE WEIRD!! Evolution may not have cured the amygdala of not having an off switch in my brain, but having no off switch is making me evolve in ways that I hope others get a chance to experience. It has it’s side effects, I’m not denying that, but having this panic disorder makes me the person I am. If you are only interested in some cute girly girl to giggle mindlessly at your jokes, then don’t look here. I WILL challenge your intelligence. I WILL expect adult conversation. I WILL be constantly trying new things and evolving. That is what being a human is all about. Do you think we were built with this profound ability for cognitive thinking, for critical analysis, to waste it?
I will return to concentrating on my art. I will take on new challenges, start new trends, and make myself a better person. For anyone who can’t keep up with that, we can be friends, but you had better be willing to try to keep up. Some people don’t want the challenge. So, yeah, I might be weird, but if you are willing to try to dig beneath the weird to get to my next layer, you will find a pretty intelligent girl who can be a nerd AND have a good time. You will find a girl who loves to explore art so much that every day when she puts on her makeup it is a tutorial in color harmonies, not just putting on a pretty face. If you dig a little deeper, you will find the most loyal, compassionate, and caring soul. You will find forgiveness, you will find suffering, love, empathy. You will find a vulnerable little girl who still doesn’t like to be called weird, but respects your opinion enough to let you call her that. A little deeper and you will find a little girl who wants to be accepted, she wants people to love her for who she is and not this goofy mask society asks her to wear. I am finding that all too often, men are asking me to just wear the skin layer, the cute girl who doesn’t have emotions or feelings, who shouldn’t try to be so smart because it cuts in to “fun time”. Well, hey, being smart IS fun. It is to me, anyway.
I get it. The skin layer IS fun! You see exactly what you get when you look at the skin layer. I understand that. I know people don’t like surprises, I know that people just want to have fun and emotions are baggage. I get it. Boy, do I ever get it. You are talking to a girl who has fallen for the “hey, let’s get together!” … “Don’t worry, I like nerdy girls” … “Well, that was a great fuck, let’s do it again” … “Oh, wait, you have emotions? Yeah … I’m not looking for a relationship or anything, but we can continue to fuck” bullshit guy scam too many times for me to count. I am ashamed of it, actually. I am ashamed of how many times I have fallen for it, but I am more ashamed at how many guys try to pull it.
A new prerequisite for being my boyfriend… You must read and understand my blog and be willing and able to discuss. LOL
Anyway, so that is my rant for the day. I really started this thing feeling like shit because I hate it when people call me weird because of a medical/psychological condition I didn’t ask for. However, fuck it all if I don’t feel 100% better. Seriously. I love my little bloggity blog community. You guys make me look at myself from a different angle. You let me say what I want and not what I think people want to hear. Fuck people. They will take advantage and turn on you the first chance they get! Ah, alas, I am still fascinated by them. 🙂
On another topic altogether, we are back to the former best friend again (sorry). I’ve said some shitty things to him. I said them mostly because he infuriates me with his constant passive silence. The problem is that when I get angry at his passive silence, he gets more passively silent.
Well, it has been 6 days and he is ignoring my existence. I told him that I was done fighting, and I hope that he has a good life. He didn’t say anything.
Now, a part of me is hoping that he is so hurt by my cutting the cord that he can’t answer me, but I know that probably isn’t the case.
I have decided to pretend he never existed.
It is difficult, pretending someone whom you loved dearly for 11+ years never existed. Whenever I think his name I say “who??” as though I have no idea what my brain is talking about. As you can tell, I am failing.
I am someone who believes that love never really dies. I mean, it hides, it gets sick and ALMOST dies, but it never really goes away.
My parents divorced when I was 11ish. It was brutal. There was constant fighting, sibling was pitted against sibling, feelings were shredded, and I still hold on to a lot of misgivings about the whole ordeal (it took thousands of dollars of therapy for me to see that).
Anyone who knows me or is a regular reader of my blog knows that both of my parents are very important to me. There was a period of time when one or both was on my shit list, but nowadays I know that my parents are saints.
Bear with me here, this memory is foggy:
One day, a long time ago, after my parents had been divorced for a while, I might have been 15 years old or something, I had a panic attack (as usual). The next day, it took me until evening time to muster the courage to ask my dad a simple question that I (as a child of a wicked divorce) needed answered:
“Daddy, if mom was in our front yard and she was attacked by a dog and she was getting hurt, would you save her?”
My dad took a deep breath and put his hand to his mouth as he always does when he is contemplating. He sat forward in his computer chair and put his elbows on his knees. What he said won’t be repeated verbatim, but it was something like this:
“Your mom was a very important part of my life for a very long time. We aren’t together now, but I still love her, it is just a different kind of love. If she was getting hurt, yes, I would stop it.”
At that moment, I knew that love didn’t die, it just changed.
I will never feel guilty for loving my former best friend enough to fall apart. I will never regret the things I said to make him understand just how much I was hurting. What I do regret? I showed him all of my art. Every photo shoot, every drawing, every painting, but he never showed me anything he wrote. I regret not pushing harder to read his words. I regret not pushing harder to make him sit down and play guitar. I regret never asking to see his soul … if that makes sense. Would I stop his pain if he were getting hurt? I would still, after all that has happened, take a bullet for him, and I would honestly always believe that the world was better off with him in it and not me. My love for him will change, I’m sure, but it won’t die.
And with that, I hope I can put all this pain to rest.
phuktneurotic 