I’m Doing it ‘Wrong’
Something occurred to me in the past week – I present too cheerful a face at all times. It’s not necessarily faking — it’s applying mindfulness and trying to keep a neutral-to-positive spin on things, even at the worst of times. But with the aforementioned thought came a grimmer one — people probably think that I don’t have it as bad as I do. They might not know that the tears are hiding right under the surface. They might not know that I smile to try to keep myself from falling into a pit that I might not be able to get out of. I’m terrified of losing control; I cannot luxuriate in despair, because I go straight from holding on to wanting to die. I hurt so badly that I cannot share it with anyone, else I truly try to throw myself into moving traffic for daring to make anyone else hurt. That when I’m hurting so bad I actually manage to admit to myself that I need a hug and help, I can’t ask for it because then my head tells me that the affection given isn’t genuine; if it were, X person would have magically read my mind at the exact right instance and ‘made it better’. Yes, I know that sounds crazy, but that doesn’t stop my brain from running in that pattern when I’m so freaked out and scared and hurting — there is no logic in that pit, none. There is no light, there is no sense, there is only darkness and pain.
Even writing it out is hard; as I said, I know it all sounds especially batshit. And unlike MacGuyver, I can’t jimmy together a solution under that pressure, ha ha. I’m not sure that anyone can, but as many of us know — people magically expect us to snap out of it on their command and quit ‘acting like a baby’. Oh, the joys of normie privilege — while I am glad they will never know the horrible crap I have to fight in my brain, it will nerve stop making me sick to the pit of my stomach that they will not make a real effort to understand it. That I could take my non-existent spoons and try to explain it to them at the time, but (as past experience has taught me), that will lead to a bemusedly annoyed normie, and a sick and upset me having to pretend that I appreciate their ‘help’.
Still, maybe this make sense to others. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I will feel slightly better for having gotten it off my chest and into the open air, but I suspect my anxiety is going to spike soon once my needs-more-coffee brain processes what I’ve put out there. Or not — the fact I’ve been forcing myself to write more openly about things as they come to my mind has been a good thing. It’s been a letting go, and I don’t have to tell you all how amazing that unappreciated-by-most ability is for my soul and psyche. All I know is that maybe this will give me another tool in trying to dissect such a self-harming pattern. Or not. At least admitting it doesn’t give anyone a tool to beat me with?
Round and round I go, ha ha. It’s just easier to take a deep breath, try to think positive thoughts, and hope it’s enough to keep intrusive darkness at bay (if only for a little bit).
<3
I understand completely.
Thank you. I needed to hear that from someone. *hugs*
I’m sure that I will never truly understand, as the aforementioned ‘normie’ but at the same time, you’ve taught me a great deal about it – I still try, but I’m now more scared than once I was to engage, for fear of making it worse… For what it IS worth, I’d always hug you and I hope you know that.
You are a good friend, and I love you well. I think back to the period where you were especially trying to be helpful, and I only regret that I didn’t have a diagnosis sooner. That I had no actual explanation for my motives and impetuous and behavior… you’d know I wouldn’t have used it as an excuse, but to be able to have definitively said that I was working with a different set of cards, well… that would have been grand indeed. I am saddened that asking questions feels a more dangerous practice, and would if anything be more receptive to it these days now that I’m more stable in general. But I also understand and respect that you might not be so inclined do to past experiences. After all, touching the hot stove and finding out that it is hot indeed is not an experience that invites a repeat performance!
And I always have room for hugs. ;D *squish!*
Putting on “the face” is exhausting…there’s nothing left at the end of the day so processing is out of the question. and “normies” (i like this) can’t seem to touch the tip of the iceberg. pretending to appreciate ‘help’ is something i totally agree with. i’ve just resolved to keep to myself, which may not be the healthiest option.
Yeah, I won’t intentionally go full-face if I’m feeling proper miserable. I actually used to, when I was still in the Air Force, slap on thick eyeliner to try to stop me from crying, and as a visual warning sign to my troops that I wasn’t in a good way. They thought me beyond weird anyways, so that little affectation wasn’t extra-odd to their eyes. But if I’m not actively having a sad or being decimated by intrusive thoughts? Doesn’t hurt to try pleasant… but yeah, no, never forced. And if I’m feeling too miserable, I’ll isolate like hell too — I don’t want to deal with anyone, and even thinking about other people makes those spots so much worse. Really though, as long as we mainly manage to not harm ourselves or resort to super-wasting (I won’t pick on anyone if they do, but I understand now it’s not a good idea)… whatever it takes to get by.