I know so many people who see me, talk to me, they think I express myself well, and I’m incredibly insightful….. and I’m…. THAT is the coping mechinism. I don’t belong, I’ve been an outsider for the longest time. Sometimes it’s a badge I wear with pride, but it’s also a source of shame. I tried to fit, I put immense work into trying.
and what scares me, as much as I allow myself to be scared by anything, is that I don’t want to try anymore.
because I’m a trauma survivor, my shields against the few things that really scare me are high. and in so many ways, I act like I don’t care what others think. That’s the thing though, I’m not capable of really connecting with what others think about me. It’s hot and cold, either “oh you’re interesting” or “what the hell?” and I just want “oh hey other human”….
but through that whole thing last week, that experience that stripped me down and made me look at some really unpleasant parts of myself. That resentment, that anger that I feel for not being accepted, for not belonging and not fitting in. It’s been with me my whole life.
and so I can stay alive. I don’t actually hate me, absent reminders of my weakness. but I can’t go fill a job. I might be able to go back to school, but that would take a miracle. I won’t be joining a church, or a gym class, or anything that makes me have to relate to people who are similar to me in any superficial way.
There’s nothing as painful for me right now than that I want to keep trying, I don’t want to drop out of society, but I don’t see another way to keep me breathing. PLEASE understand I’m not being melodramatic. Last “job” I worked I got so suicidal that it was an exquisite desire to die. I wanted to exit as much as I’ve ever wanted anything. And because I’m the one who has to keep talking that down, I eventually reached a point that….
It’s not worth that danger, not for $15 an hour, not for $30 an hour.
I think my family would rather me be homeless but alive than dead for trying and failing to win the rat race. and I’m struggling to talk about it, outside of to people who can’t tell anyone I know. It’s this festering secret, and sometimes I feel like everyone knows and other times I think I can’t make anyone understand.
at the end of the day, I’m right back to where I remember starting, an alienated child with no understanding or appreciation for why things are the way that they are. I can talk endlessly about economics, psychology and philosophy, but I will never understand or identify with a system that prioritizes money over people.