Burlap & Satin

I find myself withdrawing. I don't know exactly why, maybe it's just easier? I'm a person that doesn't mind being alone - prefers it actually - and even though that's probably not healthy, it is what it is. As always, I will go back into my childhood for answers. I was basically a pain in the ass of every step-parent that ever raised me, so naturally, I spent a lot of time alone. I know now that my behaviors were those of normal children, but the entire concept of having to care for someone other than yourself was just a concept my step-parents and sometimes parents did not grasp well. So off I went, relegated to my bedroom to escape into my imagination, indulge in my alone-ness.

It's a feature that's both served me well and cursed me. I never truly learned how to properly interact with others, how to "be social." When people think I'm being a snob or stand-offish, in reality it's usually just me being afraid or too insecure to approach strangers. On the other hand, I used to be in theatre and I'm a natural performer in daily life. If you'd just met me, you would think I was loud, obnoxious, outgoing, forward. Sure, I can turn it on for strangers and I often turn it on for truly close friends that I trust, but for the most part I'm a very private person. I like to be at home with my animals, lost in my thoughts, wearing pajamas, yelling at the TV. Most people will tell you they like those same things too (who doesn't?), but for me it's become preferable to just about everything else. I don't leave the house much lately, I don't get dressed in real clothes much lately, and I certainly don't reach out to real live people much if at all.

I realize it's kind of a crutch, my reclusion. If I don't interact with new people, then there's no chance I'll make a fool out of myself, right? If I don't try to create new friends, then there will be no opportunities to stick my foot in my mouth at dinner, no? Hell, I feel awkward making small talk with a cashier at the grocery store. It's never shyness or irritability with others. It's always me and the crippling fear I'll make a fool out of myself. It's a fear that's followed me my whole life. I was teased a lot all throughout school and it's because of my forwardness and lack of inhibition that I have such an astounding number of truly cringeworthy embarassing moments in my history. My problem isn't fear of being exposed as an uninteresting twit, but rather it's the fear of having to explain and then assault new people with all my eccentricities and hope beyond hope that they will still understand.

I watch people connect and make small talk in every day life and I find myself absolutely enraptured. A introduces herself to B, they discuss mutual interests and acknowledge their immediate common denominator (same neighborhood, same breed of dog, same aged kids, same workplace, etc). At some point a connection is made and A or B is asking the other one to lunch, over for a cookout, exchanging business cards, telephone numbers, dog parks. The relationship is immediately furthered and an acquaintance and/or friend is created. I immediately begin thinking like a scientist/outsider, studying the indigenous behaviors of these two people. How did they know to ask that particular question? How did they know to progress the conversation that way? How did they so easily invite each other over for a barbecue? What is that like? Where did they learn that? Why don't I have that capability? Where did I not learn it?

I am evolved enough to know there isn't anything fundamentally wrong with me, per se. What I do believe is that if the proper sculpting isn't there in the beginning, then the shape of the clay 30 years later will be incredibly rough. It will not resemble anything else out there and it will not be considered the norm. That alone is sadly all it takes for massive rejection by the human race. We form groups, we categorize, we cluster, we classify ourselves, we classify others. It is what gives us a sense of order. I have learned that I look like I fit, but I don't. I appear to be normal, when I am not. I seem to have a common denominator, when I have none. I am a remarkable chameleon that blends with nothing or no one. It is both an invigorating and lonely place to live. In order to find others like you, you must approach a vast sea of others that appear normal and secretly hope that they are somewhat shattered, odd, broken and unkempt on the inside just like you. You must approach all the other Normals, tap their shells, prepare for them to reject you and run away. All in the hope of finding a single person that stays put, admires your amazing shape-shifting abilities and gives you the comfort of companionship.

At the same time though, if you are rejected, it is almost expected. So you retreat, hide, withdraw. It is easy and difficult all at the same time.