Dear Juli*,
So much to say on here that can’t be said through g chat. I know you are critical about some of your life choices but I’m glad you quit your job and moved to the big city to start your life. Had you not, we probably would have never met just under a year ago on okc. You sent me a link to your blog that alluded to some of our overlapping issues. I was giddy. I have spent so much of my life searching for someone to discuss these experiences with. People assured me that there were others like me out there and maybe I’ve unknowingly crossed paths with them in the past. But because people like us are pressured to suppress this aspect of ourselves in order to thrive, we don’t connect often enough. I also appreciated that link you sent of the person falling on ice. It was funny.
It is strange how you inadvertently thrust me into taking risks and give me confidence and practical advice while you are battling so many of the things you help me with. I thought it was bold that you had such an honest blog and so I tried to finally start my own. You got me to open up about my social anxiety. I enjoy talking about it with people now. In a weird way, I feel like it gives me the upper hand in new situations. If I am clear about who I am, it is up to other people to choose how to respond to me with that information. It wasn’t until I got to know you better that I realized you were only starting to to acknowledge and confront some of these issues for the first time in your life.
I was surprised to learn that you actually don’t really talk about things like anxiety and compulsive thoughts. I think I met you during a rebellious phase in which you were trying to address every single force that made you feel trapped for the first time in your life. I’m glad we met while that window was open. I’m impressed by the degree to which utilize dry humor with serious topics. Remember that open mic night when you forgot everything you prepared to say and instead discussed trying to make the jump from bagger to cashier at a local grocery store as a teenager but you just couldn’t cut it because of the social anxiety that came with being a cashier? That was brilliant and, for the most part, people laughed in the right places. People don’t realize that when your brain is ultra wired to detect fear, it actually means you have to be brave all the time.
I wish that I could help you more than I can. I once worked in a cubicle and spent 8 hours a day wishing one person in particular would call me or imagining conversations I might someday have with that person. Sometimes they were angry conversations, sometimes they were happy conversations. Mostly they were very different from the actual conversations I had with that person. At night I would cry. I wanted some release from those thoughts and I couldn’t even pause them to sleep. I hated myself for being infatuated with someone that didn’t seem to care I was hurting. I hated myself even more for not being able to change the running subject in my brain. I think sometimes I would just stare straight ahead having imaginary conversations in plain sight of the world.
I recognize that pain when I talk to you sometimes. I wish I could grant you some magic solution. I’ve had people tell me that I am way too critical of myself. I thought, I can’t be that critical of myself when I am objectively such a failure. I found the attempts to point out what I had going for me to be sugar coated and condescending, a skewed version of reality. I felt that if lying to myself was the only solution to my problems, my situation must be beyond help. But now when I listen to you, I realize those other voices were right.
You are one of the most interesting people I have ever met. You make the mundane into adventure, comedy and sometimes psycho thrillers. You casually throw around phrases like trust house and croc factory call center. You have written beautifully redundant poetry about landscaping. You have spent so much energy trying to pass as ordinary and, I mean this endearingly, maybe give that up. Ordinary people expend energy trying to be like you. Trying to feel so intensely and identify some quality within themselves that makes them feel utterly distinct. You don’t even have tattoos.
I don’t know how someone that was so closeted and so isolated for so long could have accumulated such a tremendous amount of lingering ex-girlfriends. I know you care about all of them in some way. But I think you are sacrificing so much of your own self worth by communicating with people that won’t respect your needs. I know you feel weak. You want to be able to talk to them without feeling hurt. But I think your reasoning is a bit off. You can only become strong by accepting and treating your vulnerabilities. That doesn’t mean you are succumbing to them. It means you are conquering them head on. I hate that so many of your interactions end up seeming to confirm your insecurities and that people that care about you don’t care about you enough to stop hurting you.
I really wish I could help you find relief but I’m struggling with that myself. I have been to three therapists, two psychiatrists and one nurse/counselor and dated about 4 social workers in the past year. Here is some of their collective wisdom: you can’t always get what you want; eventually you have to grow up; you sound so angry when you talk; tell me more about your childhood; sexual relations?; gay men have a much easier time networking in this town; I understand you wish to end our arrangement, here is your balance; and the work situation?; have you seen the show in treatment?; I used to be really shy and introverted too but I overcame it; I had a great time tonight, I’d love to hang out again sometime; even though we’re apart our hearts are holding hands; you deserve comfort in those moments; have you considered joining an opera club; have you considered being admitted to a hospital; if you don’t mind my asking, why have you never been in a relationship before; you’re wearing your name tag; you should really consider getting a dog; if you were trapped in quicksand, what would you do?; thank you for letting me know quicksand doesn’t actually exist.
If I think of any more, I’ll send it your way. Thank you for being the only person who reads my blog and has met me in the flesh. It means a lot to me that you willingly continue to do both. Thanks for suggesting I do this.
Your friend,
Kyl* from the internet
Bull Dyker 