I want to write about one more aspect of being for me: shame. Part of it arises from the internal realization something is wrong with me, an inner critic that constantly drives my self-perception so low that I hardly can distinguish it from wanting to be, or being in the ground already. Part of it was certainly also drilled into me, that it was wrong to be different.
To stay at this example: Suicidal thoughts: I could never admit to them. I never mentioned them to anyone until I mentioned them to Jasmin once in 2020… only to bury them again until 2022. Even though they are with me almost every week, almost every day I can remember. Something about them was deeply shameful. That I needed help, that I couldn’t ask for it. Health is another; I am rather paranoid when it comes to health, but also ignored serious symptoms of physical illness. Not ignored, actually. I was very aware of them. But going to the doctor was difficult for me, admitting something was wrong with me. But also just the smells and sounds at a doctors office.
Communication is another issue. Or rather, the anxiety of getting it wrong, or having gotten it wrong. And the strategies I developped for dealing with it… I find myself adopting completely different personas when interacting with people, mirroring the mood in an attempt to, well not only fit in or please, but be perceived as somewhat able to navigate life. I find myself adopting interests foreign to me, agreeing to things I do not want. Playing along far too long.
Or I find myself losing sleep over planning conversations, not rarely devolving to scripting, remembering something said in a movie or book to alleviate the situation. Or analyzing conversations I had in the past, anxious over the implications and consequences. And honestly, all of this makes it go wrong more often than not; because of course I do not end up communicating honestly about my mental state. And so I lie awake: was I too rude or too inviting? Why do I end up just copying and not able to say what I want? In some way the copying was drilled into me as part of the social contract. But often I do not recognize myself in the personas I adopt.
Even when I have good intentions, I often end up not being able to communicate them… sometimes because even when I know something is right, and has to be done, the person I have to communicate it to has put up a barrier, a rule I find wrong but am still forced to navigate. Or I make a mistake that would be small… and then just wait until it becomes huge.
Part of it is also shamed into me. “Why don’t you communicate” or just the fact that I need my noise-cancelling headphones sometimes to block out the noise can be used to call me out, to ostracize me for being anti-social. Which I was drilled into me is not acceptable. Having responsibilities drilled into me, pushed onto me, being told I am only worth something, that I it is my duty to meet them or be isolated makes me lose sleep.
And so, if you meet me, here are smaller things… I love spicy food but I also know that my stomach suffers under them. I will still agree to eat them with you if you ask me, so don’t ask me. I am more bisexual than I could admit for a long time, often changing the gender of past relationships in conversations (well, because “homosexuality is wrong” was drilled into me as a child by an authority figure.) I mostly play the same childish song on my headphones on repeat. I like to dance and listen to music, but crowds and people around me freak me out. I like to stand at the side of crowds because I like to observe people, but cannot return eye contact consistently until I know you for a long time.
