There are two kinds of people I tend to gravitate towards, because both bring me comfort in some strange way. The first kind is the misfits. They're the ones that somehow just never seem to really ever fit in anywhere, the ones that could be in a room of 100 people that know and love them, that actively celebrate them in some way, and still they feel like the loneliest people on earth. It can be for any number of reasons, and my main desire in being close to them is to make them more comfortable with being in their own skin. The others are the ones the usual band of misfits covet, the ones who, despite their armor and clever ways of disguising their weaknesses and insecurities, are misfits in their own right - you'd just never know it because they put enough energy into hiding all of that from everyone including themselves. I am both of these kinds of people.
For all my bravado, for all of the ways that I can effortlessly encourage and nurture others I cannot do it effectively for myself sometimes and I don't know how to receive it from others. It makes me crazy, but it is the truth and though I have no problems baring my soul it is not something I do often. Not that it is threatening to me, it is actually very cathartic and liberating a lot of the time. I certainly don't want to be this enigmatic thing that creates mystery, far from it - but there are those times I cannot relate to a single person at all depending on what state of mind I am in. Now is one of those times, and unfortunately for me I am not feeling so put together as I normally strive to be. I know it passes eventually and it's nothing more than my own unconscious system of checks and balances at play, but I'd just as soon not feel like this right now.
I think and feel myself into being totally overwhelmed by the inertia of life now and then, usually generated from too much introspection. This is generally a good thing as it brings self awareness and validation via dragging yourself through the indignity of being your own worst enemy, but not so good when you feel fragile and weak and low. It happens to us all, and I try very hard to look for the blessing in it and not be sucked under by the hopelessness of it, because that is very easy to do if you cannot remain vigilant and determined. Right now the blessing is that I'm not having to be anything to anyone, being that it is almost midnight on a Sunday and there's no one awake but me, so my timing for this is pretty good all things considered. I know that in some way I am still in control of my emotions and that in and of itself is reassuring to me. And yes, I am crying because the safest time for me to do this is when I am alone and there's no one around to see it and make me more uncomfortable by trying to console me or fix what might appear broken. It is so ridiculous to me, the one thing my instincts tell me to sprint into action for others is the very thing I eschew for myself. It is possibly my most hypocritical trait, and I loathe that about myself, but again - it is the truth and I see no reason to lie about it. Part of what I treasure most about myself is my ability to speak freely about my faults and insecurities
I go through these periods of looking at the good things I do for others and all of the joy that it brings me, because I truly believe it is what I am best at. There's just no balance because I don't know how to accept having the same done for me in return. It panics me into feeling out of control and makes me feel like I'm a consummate failure somehow. Like a bomb is about to go off somewhere and I have nowhere safe to hide and I cannot round up the people around me fast enough to get them to safety. It is something I've had to grow into living with. I used to cut myself until the blood would run and I'd get snapped into feeling something real and I could find focus that way, but I haven't done that in years and have zero desire to do that anymore. It doesn't wash over me in that same all-consuming way that it used to and I feel differently now that I've grown older. Part of what is so great to me about getting older is the discovery I occasionally get to make about myself where I confront a thing about me that I've spent a lifetime throwing energy at JUST to realize that the energy is wasted and I cannot reclaim any of it. It's ridiculously fruitless, and I detest wasting my energy. It is ten times more difficult getting back the energy you waste and it ends up being this vicious cycle of alternating self delusion and self indulgence, and really - what sane person wants that? Who the fuck has the TIME for it?
My throat is so sore I can hardly swallow. I'm going home, eating something soft and watching the newest episode of The L Word, getting medicated, then going to bed. That's enough introspection for now, even though this wasn't finished.