So I had a hard time sleeping last night. Seems Connor and M wanted to make sure there was no silence last night. M snored then Connor did right after him. I gave up and waited for the time M went to work…
Then I guess Grandma had a spell from taking bp pills when she no longer needed them. I had two phone calls about that.
There are times I wonder on our family. We all talk about our issues to certain people and never the ones that need to be talked to. Or we are quiet on it, not wanting to hurt each other’s feelings.
While doing things that are more hurtful.
Don’t get me wrong, we are a bunch that I wonder sometimes if my ability to write and make up stories was from the escapism I needed from the RL drama. If you read my fanfic or any of my writing, I am not one for much angst.
Unless you read some of the really original stories. Those are all stories I have told myself. What If is another example of me being using Writing as an outlet.
I have a lot of people thinking I have stress from all the stuff I do. It’s not that. The stuff I do is still less than I have done in the past. Way less. I have organized departments, carried a 4-6 person department on my shoulders. While only doing it for half the time.
Writing and all this is my escapism. It is the relief that I can actually sink fully into the movies in my head and escape the he said she said, she did this, she hurt me, why don’t they’s, that go on in my real life. As time goes on, I get to thinking how they all tease me about talking all the time, and I wonder how much they pay attention now with how I barely talk anymore.
I have withdrawn into myself more and more as time goes by, only coming out online since I often feel no one would like me. And often when I come out online being myself, then people leave.
I guess I suck in relationship skills. I stay away, because if you wanted to talk to me, you would. When I feel like I am carrying on a conversation with only me talking, then I back slowly away. Cause I have been taught through interactions that it will be the foretelling to them dropping me like a hot potato.
Then comes my fucked up memory. Remember the details of stories, the names of my characters and so on? Sure! Remember that someone has a loved one in the hospital, a birthday coming up, or sometimes a name? Uh… What?
I pay attention. For some reason these things fall through the cracks and no matter what I try to do, write myself notes, tell myself to remember and so on, it won’t help. And I feel worse about being a person.
On the other side of the coin, I am often surprised when people remember me. Yes, I don’t have a double standard. If I can’t remember facts, why would I expect you to do so?
I am far from perfect and would be the first to admit it. I argue, insist I am right. I know where I get it, but hey, it is me. Others do the same thing. I refuse to be shamed on it any longer.
And I love to write. I love to lose myself in the worlds in my head. I am writing a novel, but feel so unsure about it.
I have felt that I am never any good on anything I do. I am shocked when people say I am part of the big clique’s and that I am famous in our little fandom. For what? Helping others? I will take that one. For writing? Then why does it seem to be forgotten so much?
I feel often that I am losing myself. Just draining away from what I used to be, turning into a shell of myself. I am hoping some time away from the constant drama, and being with people that I feel like me for myself that it will help.
Yes, I have a flighty as hell muse. But I understand it well after the one day my Dr suggested I relax the strict control I have on my brain. To relax. And it genuinely scared the crap out of me. Thoughts came crashing in at speeds you could not believe, about many different things at once.
Do I know it is going on beforehand? Yeah. I sense it going on behind the little theater room I sit in and watch things. But I learned long ago to control it that way, and it worked.
That day terrified me, and I was more terrified of not gaining back the control. How freaking sad is that? Not to be able to regain control of your mind? The thing that governs everything I do.
But I did, and I completely understand Sookie and her ‘walls’. I painstakingly have added and put them up, to the point that I made it an exercise that when I passed the baseball field on the way home from High School, I would reshore them up.
All over Tucson are these spots, that even to this day when I pass them, I find myself doing them.
IT makes it hard to do a lot of normal things, and I suspect all that information that I can’t remember is back in that mess, but I learned to accept the answer delivered to me, or for when I search for the answer, I have to follow the trail in my head to the answer.
My family has mocked me for this for a long time. I get the right answers, and beat them on some genius level games, but I get mocked for it.
Maybe I don’t have any confidence, since whenever I found something I enjoyed, someone had to come along and make sure I knew I was not the best at it. There will always be someone better. How dare you even think that you are good at it?
Cooking? That I am allowed to be, as long as I share it with them. Baking? No. You are supposed to be a cook or a Baker. not both. WE don’t care that you can do both. We don’t care that you have to listen to music to allow yourself to work.
You can’t do both.
Writing? Well look at your reviews vs the rest. And it’s only Fanfiction. It’s cheating. So why bother writing anything original, since you can’t achieve anything in the fanfic world.
And you get the idea. I have been taught to think of myself worse than everyone worse, even when the facts are in front of me that I am good at something.
Lately it is getting worse, so I am glad I have here to vent. Otherwise, I think I would go mad, or completely silent.
Then I wonder if anyone would even notice anymore?