Last night I had three conversations with three totally different people that all ultimately ended up being about the same thing - how brave I am. Technically there might've been a fourth one, but that got sidetracked by my tendency to inflict too much personal information on people I barely know (thankfully, the girl I was talking to seemed pretty cool with it - I mean, we'll see if she still wants to be anywhere near me next time our social schedules overlap, but she didn't exactly tell me to shut up and she reads as the sort of person who would and I adore her for it). Point being, as a recurrent theme, that one was weird - and totally not my doing, and freaking me out enough that I'm writing about it here twelve hours later. Yay.
The first convo was with a childhood friend and that's all I'm going to say about who she is 'cause despite being the person unintentionally responsible for about 80% of my self-image issues (no one would ever be as good as she was, no one ever said as much but everyone in my era knew darn well), I can't totally hate her. Believe me, I've tried. Lately, I ignore her when we're in the same place because "if I can't see them then they don't exist" is a TOTALLY sensible way of dealing with problem people (I do this at work sometimes, it's weird but it keeps me out of trouble so I guess it's working). But if the other person initiates something, I go with it. And she did. We were standing in the same general area and that woman is talkative. And somehow it came up that she had no idea where I currently work despite me having been there for over a year (I guess me not posting about it on FB - *ever* - might be somehow involved), and I offhand mentioned that while I've been having some minor people problems, it's nowhere near as bad as my last job. So, naturally, childhood friend pointed out that she could never do something like that and I'm so brave for lasting as long as I did.
For the record, the job in question was in a shopping-mall food court place and I lasted a year and a half before the combination of distance and one major human problem that I couldn't do anything about led to me quitting. I was not brave (unless one is really into the fact that I did not intentionally physically hurt myself during that time period).
Second convo happened a few hours later on Tumblr. For some reason, currently because of the main show I am no longer watching because the fandom took a nice trip into hell (someday I need to do a post on how to tactfully have a ship war because I've seen it done without any guilt-tripping before but the above situation is above and beyond), I seem to have attracted a flock of adorable teenage girls who are in the same situation I was in at around that age. Homeschooled, sheltered, and using online fandom interaction as an outlet. (For those of you who thought I was a terror in high school - believe me, if I hadn't discovered the glory of FFnet when I was fifteen and begun using TV shows as a way of getting through my actual life, it could've been sooo much worse.) Obviously, I am the first person to point out that I'm really not a good role model for anyone, EVER, but if the little bugs are convinced I am, that's on them and I'll try to be helpful where I can. I've had a few cool internet older sister figures, and it's only right that I keep the cycle going, yeah?
Anyways, I was talking to one of those girls - convo started with something else, but it spiraled into talking about Former Main Fandom (let's call it that, it's the only show I've actually posted about on this blog if anyone's desperate enough to poke around in my archives) and more specifically, why a particular character is Really Interesting. (That's another post I need to do here. A revamped version of the EXISTENT post on that subject. And... something I'm never going to be over.) Short version, that particular fictional lady resonates with me because of similar backgrounds, and apparently I'm not the only one who sees that. Then the convo detoured a little bit into me talking about my background, and it basically ended with the girl I was talking to telling me that I am a SURVIVOR.
Well... duh. As far as I know, that's the only word in the English language that accurately describes who I am after all of my experiences. (A post I will definitely not write - the fine line between "victim" and "survivor" and how sometimes those can be used interchangeably.)
Then the third convo happened. By this point, it's a little past midnight and my brain is in some absolutely lovely places, and... again, Tumblr is a beautiful place. In need of distraction from OTHER things that happened last night (which will be explained shortly), I started messing around with tattoo design again. I now definitely know what my next one is going to look like and where on my body I'm getting it put. So I posted about that, because talking about anything other than my epic communication failure was absolutely necessary, and then one of my friends talked at me. Apparently she wasn't aware of my existent tattoo, which is weird because she was definitely around when that one happened, and she randomly told me that I was brave for actually going through with it.
Um... no. Being the nervous trainwreck that I am, I spent days looking at pain charts before that one happened, and y'all should know that the one thing all of them (and there are about six good ones I found on Pinterest) say is that lower thigh is about the least painful possible place. This is accurate. I did not feel anything, good bad or otherwise. That is not brave. That is slightly impulsive and reckless.
I guess the reason I'm being so hard on myself is because on a certain level, last night was a disaster. I went to a thing with the intention of talking to a beautiful boy, and... I didn't, because there were too many people and I don't know how to begin a convo with someone I know in passing (in that weird way everyone knows everyone because Cincinnati is a fishbowl) and don't have anything in common with. That's why I'm so curious, but it's not making things easier for me. I convinced myself that I was going to do something, and then I DIDN'T, and I'm so mad at myself for it. I know I shouldn't be - what will happen will happen, and at least I am definitely on radar now and that's progress for me - but I am. Because again, I'm not good enough, and again, I'm not strong enough, and again, I'm a bit disaster. Some things never change.
I'll get through it, though. Last night wasn't even an active setback so much as... a pause, I guess. My heart's still fluttering terribly, and we'll see where that leads if it leads anywhere at all. I'll be okay. I always am.
Song of the day - "Marchin' On", OneRepublic.
No comments:
Post a Comment