This site is the cat’s pajamas

I’m having a conversation with an acquaintance, the sort that gets me in trouble.  I’m not in trouble yet but I know I’m going to be.  I still am having to learn to open my heart up here instead.


Getting in Trouble

I’m terrified that someone is going to somehow report my blog–why, I don’t know, I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong, but I often get in trouble for not doing anything wrong–and then I will lose the one place that I can share my heart (that’s not paid for by insurance).


Another thing I’m grateful for:

Having insurance that allows me to see a therapist.

Can’t complain

And that’s the thing.  I feel it’s wrong for me to complain because I do have some good things in life.  I just wish that I had someone that I could share it with, someone who could tell me, “Good job!” rather than, “You should have done it this way.”  And I’m having to learn that I’ll  never have that, because of how I was born.
But I see other people complain about things, and they don’t get in trouble, but I do get in trouble if I complain about anything.

It’s not like I’m a hermit.  I go out to social events, and can kibbitz with the best of them.  I can be social at a party where I don’t know anyone.  But the challenge is that no-one gets to know me after, because, as I said my therapist said, my natural personality is not the type most people are going to like.  It’s not like I’m hateful or anything–about the only thing I hate is hate.  I just have an “intense” personality.  I have a lot of drive and energy.  I have no clue how to be easygoing, and my therapist says I’m not going to turn into an easygoing person.  People don’t like energetic people, so I’m told.
On another note:

Things I’m grateful for:

*I’m not homeless.  (There was a woman in the library earlier talking on the phone about being homeless, so that’s on my mind.)

*I have food at home.

*I am doing well in school.

*I have a computer and sometimes have internet access.

*I have accomplished a lot of good things and have come far–regardless of whether there is anyone to share the joy.

*Even if I have no close friends, I have a lot of acquaintances, and they help to make life more bearable.

I am too weird to be loved.  That’s what I’m having to realise.  That’s what I’ve had to understand from what my therapist told me, that I’m too intense and driven for most folks to give me a chance, and the rest get coupled up and move on with their lives.  To survive, I must find a way to kill my heart and be satisfied with only being able to make acquaintances and not deep friends.

Why here?

Because the only other places I can say what’s on my heart are on Facebook and Livejournal, and I get ridiculed there when I do so.  Outside of my therapy sessions, I go months on end without a deep, meaningful, face-to-face conversation.
The irony is that I’m a big extrovert and I go to social events all the time.  I have a lot of acquaintances.  But any attempt to deepen those acquaintanceships–at least face-to-face relationships, I have some very deep online friendships–those attempts get thwarted.  I end up with those closest to me not supporting the things I’m doing to improve my life–in fact, they ridicule the attempts.
So I have to provide a safe space here for my heart, so I can talk with my imaginary friends.  I may never find out who you are, but I deeply appreciate your taking the time to read what’s on my heart.

Why not private?

Why don’t I make this a private blog?  Because I don’t need to be talking to myself.  But if I open up the comments, then I face the same ridicule and lack of support that I already get from my friends.  Keeping this blog open means that, I’m betting, at least one person reads this.  But I need to have some place in my life where I can express what is on my heart without belittlement.  If you have someone who loves you, who provides that space for you, count yourself fortunate.


I’m having to learn that there is one standard for me and another standard for everyone else.  When others speak and say something I disagree with, I keep silent so that I can respect their rights of speech and belief, and so that I do not upset them.  But when I speak, others are free to lambast me regardless of how much I desperately plead just to let me say one thing in peace that’s on my heart.

If I say something racist/sexist/etc, people call me out on it. I apologise and then I examine what I did, and then change my actions and behaviours and beliefs.  If I call them out for doing the same–because I want to protect all people, because all people are equal and hate is destroying the world–then I am lambasted for keeping them from saying whatever they want.

I’m having to come to terms with the fact that there is one set of standards for me and another set of standards for everyone else.  Somehow I have to learn to accept this.


I’m starting this blog for the sake of my sanity.  For one, because I do not have anyone, aside from therapists, that I can talk with face-to-face about anything deep.  My friends all got married and quit hanging out together.  Second, aside from therapists, I have no-one supportive in my life.  The people in my life get confused, they think I’m looking for people who agree with me.  Agreeing with me and supporting me are not the same thing.  Supporting me is, for lack of a better word, holding me.  Letting me know things are going to be okay.  I want so much to be held, but I’ve discovered that intimate physical contact–touches, hugs, embraces–are amongst the rarest things in the world.

I have to set up some weird parameters for this blog.  First off, I have to keep it public.  This can’t be just me talking to myself.  I do that way too much of that already–not out of insanity but out of desperation to talk to *someone*.  BUT I can’t publicise this blog, for fear of remonstration from those who know me.  Which means I know that I’m probably only going to be read by spambots.  But I can at least pretend that there is a real human being reading this blog. I also need to keep comments closed.  I need one safe space in my life that’s not being paid for by my insurance.