Earlier this week, I wrote a post called “Self-perception”, which I quickly removed due a fairly severe internal backlash. The backlash wasn’t because I didn’t believe what was written, but rather because I know it’s true. My fear was that others would finally see me for what I really am…
Other people are strong and courageous when they cry.
I am weak if I cry.
Other people are funny and intelligent.
I am a goober and an idiot.
Other people have a right to care, understanding and healing.
I am too dirty and messed up for that.
None of this makes me special. I don’t have super-human abilities or an invincible ego. On the contrary, I’m so dirty and disgusting that I must act this way in order for anyone to stand talking to me. I must act the way you want in order to be allowed in your company. If I get upset when you hurt me, I won’t be asked back – that hurt was at least some form of human interaction. You see, may be if I’m allowed in your presence for long enough, I might learn how to be human. I’m usually a quick learner, but I don’t get this “human” thing. I don’t know how you all interact. I don’t know how to be funny. I don’t know how to care for others. I don’t understand why people keep setting themselves up for pain by connecting with others. Why do people do that?
I am seen at work as strong, yet I am weak.
I am seen by the family as a stuck-up bitch. At least that is accurate.
WPT asked about my self-perception. He asked if I was playing a role and a game when I talked to him… putting up another front. Of course I was. What, you expect honesty? You expect tears? You expect me to say “it hurts”… that I’m scared? Very funny. Last time I said those words, I was punished for my weakness. Whose to say you will be any different? I’m not the only chameleon in this world. People smile to your face, and stab you in the back a moment later.
I know that no one is perfect – there is a humanity in making mistakes. But then, I’m not human.
Much of this text screams out “attention seeker” to me. It could be easily argued that it is… But it’s the truth. It’s the reason why I can self-injure to dangerous levels, without a care or thought. I’m a thing… an object… worthless… nothing.
If you’re wondering why I’m publishing this again, I need to address this core belief I have about myself. If I don’t, I’ll never heal. It might make me uncomfortable, but it’s the elephant in the room. Although, maybe it’s the mouse? I don’t know.