I'm writing this in an Argo Tea and watching an episode of MacGuyver while doing so, so my attention may be a little divided. It's weird, when one writes, one is basically asking oneself to bare one's soul, even just a little bit. In other words, be yourself. Usually, this one (me) likes to do that when no one else is around. In other words, in my own apartment.
I've come to the realization that I can't be myself when I'm in public, so it's a little weird writing this at the moment. I have a few theories on this, and they all kind of mush together. The first is that I've got a few screws loose up in my head, and I'm trying desperately to gather them up and put them in a coffee can so when I need them, I know where they are.
The laundry list?
1. ADD – Kind of uncomfortable when you're amongst friends and you can't carry on a conversation because at least 2 of your senses think there is something else more important going on, and your brain agrees with them.
2. Dyslexia – Usually only shows itself in writing types of situations, so that's ok; however, it also shows up in situations requiring navigation. Let me ask you this, would you want to be perceived as someone who didn't his left from his right? Or the guy who reads maps backwards? I didn't think so.
3. Clinical Depression – I got called "crybaby' a lot when I was a kid, and my buttons labeled "uncontrolled sadness", "pissed off", and "nervous breakdown/panic attack" are easily pushed. Sometimes, they don't need pushing.
4. Epilepsy – Or at least a minor form of it. I don't get grand mol seizures (the tremor-y kind), I get petit mol seizures, where my brain short-circuits for brief moments in time and I get caught in a walking catatonia.
5. I stutter – either my brain's moving faster than my mouth (or vice-versa), or I'm not feeling very confident.
The only place, not including total solitude, that I have ever felt I could be myself was a place in Phoenix, Arizona. It was a center for adults with learning disabilities. Granted, this was, BY FAR, NOT the greatest place on earth. The staff kind of forgot the word "adults" when it came to how we were treated. But, I was surrounded by folks who were just as screwed up, and sometimes more screwed up, than myself. It wasn't exactly "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," but dammit there were some moments that were just liberating. For example, it was not strange to find yourself letting out a primal scream and punching a hole through a wall, in full view of your peers, just because your roommate woke you up early with all of his noise. In the "real" world, where the object is to be as fake as you can stomach, you just don't see that. It wasn't strange to be a recluse out in public and amongst friends, but out here, friends insist on talking to you to figure out "what's wrong." It wasn't strange for a man to cry (loudly I might add, we're talking full on wailing here) when he has to break up with his girl because she's moving back home, and anyone seeing you wouldn't care that you were doing it, they'd just let you do it. Out here, you either get people shying away from you or a cop wondering if there's something wrong with you and should he/she give you a field sobriety test.
Let me clarify what reason number 2 is: People out in the world, when I come into contact with them, and in spite of my attempts to hide, inevitably find out at least one of the five things above, either through subconscious observation, or me telling them, or one of the behaviors manifesting itself. In any case, I have found that their opinions of me change. I get looks that say, "What are you ON man?" I get pointed at, and laughed at. That shit hurts. It hurts enough that I'm having to fight off tears right now…in public.
"You just need to be yourself!" That's the cheery advice we get for everything, right? Job interview? Be yourself. Negotiation? Be yourself. Get a date? Be your goddam self.
Bullshit I tell you. Complete and utter bullshit.
