As far as actual self-sabotage goes (we'll go with that spelling as long as it accepts it), I found I do it a lot. I'm terrified of a lot of things. I'm afraid of dogs, heights, small spaces, and this weird thing that keeps making my whole body convulse that I'm too afraid of to go to a doctor about (irony? money. ohhhhhh.... Yeah, I'm afraid of my figurative life ending WAY more than my literal one). Unfortunately, those aren't the fears I self-sabotage with...
I'm afraid of being in charge. I'm afraid of being a leader. I'm afraid of being depended upon. I'm afraid of leading the people I care most about to their certain deaths (or depression of ANY kind for that matter!). I'm afraid of blame and afraid of commitment. I'm afraid that I won't be trusted. I'm afraid of being feared. I'm afraid of being disappointing or disillusioning. I'm afraid of hurting those who trust me. I'm afraid of finding out that I really really matter to someone and that they see me for someone I'm not. I'm afraid of not being who they thought I was or who I was supposed to be.
I'm not that good. I try but I fail. I don't want to hear anyone call me up or text me to tell me I'm wrong there because if you don't know, it's probably because you haven't known me that long. I disappoint people constantly. I let people down ALL OF THE TIME! I am a HUGE let-down to people who count on me most.
I'm not afraid to stand up for something I know is right. I'm not afraid of being blunt and in some ways callous regarding the traditions that our society has impressed upon us. I can stand up when I'm called upon. That's not the problem.
The problem is my memory.
I'm writing a story right now. It's just a story. It'll never really grow into a book, I don't think. Who isn't writing a story, though? I guess I could have left that out. Full discretion... The story is about a man whose wife and daughter were taken from him. His best friend tells the story. They begin a few years after his wife and daughter were taken. They travel around the United States searching for plans for a machine that will send a person back in time. The machine supposedly doesn't work. Each time someone is sent back in time they never reappear. The experiments are ludicrous, of course, but in the story, those who are sent back in time are really sent back. They aren't fully grown men and women like they had previously assumed would happen but in order for the person to be sent, their spirit alone was all that the machine could transfer. The person had to be born again. They kept some memories, but the memories only really developed after they reached the ages at which they gained the memories to begin with. Why the story like that? Well, the best friend is sent back in time as such and has begun writing this story as though it were a book. While he writes, he realizes that the story is his story and instead of inspiration, they're memories.
My memories are lost. If you read back a few entries you'll see me mention werewolf-like moments. My memory is faulty at best. I can't remember names, experiences, times, or places. When someone depends on you to remember places, names, people, etc. what happens when you can't? How does it feel to know you can't access that part of your brain. When werewolf time happens, my memory lapses again. names are lost, times are gone, and my ability to keep thoughts leaves. Even if I care about it more than anything else, if I'm not paying attention, it's gone. By "gone", I mean "GONE". We saw a TV show tonight, my roommates and I, about a woman who was losing her memories due to Alzheimer's. My roommates were talking about how awful it would be to forget everything and know that something great happened and you will never remember it. It's not as scary as you might think. It's sad. Mostly sad. Sometimes comforting.
Self-sabotage? Full circle, I know there are people who want to help me. I know many people who are so kind and loving that they will push through the terrible stuff to keep me. I know I let them down often and forget a lot. Last weekend I took my first vacation from my medication I have had in a long time. It stopped working for a couple of days so I put it to rest to see if it would help. It did, but that weekend I can't remember much of anything. I remember doing something and promising something, but I can't remember what it was. I remember it was something I wanted SO MUCH! I remember wanting it SO BADLY! I remember being scared to forget it. I even remembered being afraid that I couldn't live up to my promise. I forgot. My brain misfired and I couldn't bring it back. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get it back... Until tonight. I remembered that I was supposed to go out with one of the dearest, most forgiving friends I have and I forgot.
I realized that I tend to fade into the background a lot. I realized that I can appreciate people forgetting me. Even when I remember them for the rest of my life, I try to be forgotten. I can make an impression to last a lifetime, change everything about them but still want to fall into the pavement, never to be found again. It's because of exactly what happened this last week. I want to keep my friendships, the loves, the family, the experiences, the hopes, the dreams, the everythings I've built, but I know that I hurt the ones I care most about when I do.
So I forget, I vanish, and I disappear into the background. Who am I to ruin your life or disappoint you? Who am I to tell you what you will and will not expect? Who am I to ask you for something I can never give back?
I hurt people... and then they forget me. I become just another bitter memory of a friend they used to have.
What's the point of the post? Why do I even bother with this? Y'know, I had no idea until just now. I didn't realized it until right this very second. I realized that I want to say what I want more than anything in the whole wide world. I want everyone to know what I wish I could have. I want the world to know that I have a desire that is more powerful, meaningful, and selfish than anything I have ever wanted before.
I want to be OK. I want to be normal. I want to be healthy. I want to think like everyone else. I want to feel like everyone else. I want to think like someone other than me. Why am I the only person I know who hurts every single time I'm NEAR someone who hurts? Why am I the only person I know who hates practical jokes because they're unkind? Why am I the only person I know with the brain that turns on and off for absolutely no good reason? Why can't I just learn like everyone else? Why can't I focus like everyone else? Why do I have to be so DAMN DIFFERENT?!
Why can't I just be like everyone else? Why does everyone else get to feel like they aren't part of everything else? Why can't anyone be like me? Why can't I just feel like I fit without someone having to reach out to me? I could scream at the sky for being so "unfair". I've prayed about it, studied it out, thought it over.
You know what the worst part of it is? I know there's a reason. I've already sworn here and I don't feel like I want to take it back so here's the last time you'll see it in this blog: There's a damn good reason. There is no other word that works there. I tried "really" and I tried "very". Immensly, powerfully, exponentially great, super..., incredibly, and mega all came to mind along with hundreds of others. None of them give the feeling I want you to get when you read that sentence. I want you to wince. I want you to know that I don't know what the reason is but as sure as there is an earth under my feet there is a reason. I know there's a reason I don't know. I have to. I never really had a chance not to. I know it better than I know my own name.
How bad is it to want to be like everyone else? Really? To know that you're worth the work? To know that people can trust you? To be in complete control of your actions?
Is it wrong to want to be normal?
Special kinda sucks.
