"I am whatever you say I am. If I wasn't, then why would I say I am?" These Eminem lyrics play in my head any time I feel weighed down by the opinions others have of me.
I hold myself so tightly. I am always trying to live up to the expectations others have of me. I want to make those I care about proud, and I always want to do the right thing. No matter how hard I try, I still disappoint, annoyed, and frustrate others. Letting others down is unavoidable.
A few months ago, I went through old journal entries to back them up and organize them in a place that doesn't require a subscription. I knew I've done a lot of work on myself, and I can remember clearly pointss in time when there were huge leaps in progress. Even knowing this, reading old journal entries felt like a glass of ice water to the face. I was so different in 2019 when I started journaling.
I saw myself as someone who encouraged and empowered others to live independently. I knew I got a lot out of togetherness and the sense of community I felt sharing my home and spending time with others. However, I did not realize how much support I required on a daily basis. After reading my journal entries, I reached out to some of my friends and thanked them for being so patient and understanding with me when I was unintentionally being very difficult. For example, I can get very overwhelmed when I don’t understand something that seems simple. One of my friends handled this so well. She would always stay calm and help me without adding to the stress and shame I already felt. This is on top of helping provide financially for everyone in the home, making sure we were all fed, and taking care of my dog in addition to her own. This explains why her choice to move out in 2020 hit me like a ton of bricks. She was not only helping me in a practical sense, but she intuitively understood things about me I didn’t yet know about myself, and she provided much needed support.
So I've been thinking, what if people are right about me?
Maybe I am dramatic. I respond to stimuli differently than others and when I was younger, I had a hard time communicating the distress I felt. Since others minimized and dismissed my struggles. I learned that no one would believe me without an exaggerated response. I paid attention to how others responded to situations, and attempted to replicate those responses to get my needs met. Not only did this not work, but it also came off as inauthentic and yes, probably dramatic. Because I wasn’t ever believed or supported, this just caused more of a disconnect between me and my actual emotions. I’veve been told I didn’t feel the way I felt so many times that it has taken a lot of work for me to build emotional awareness. I no longer perform emotions for anyone, but it is still confusing and distressing when other people invalidate my emotions and experiences, like being told I’m not sad when I feel sad or I don’t have anxiety when I feel anxious. One thing I’ve learned that has helped me tremendously is that those who don’t have the capacity to handle their own emotions will not be able to hold space for the emotions of others.
I’ve also been told I’m sad when I’m just low energy or angry when I’m just quiet. Other see me as too much or too emotional, because I feel everything on a very deep level. For example, I don’t get out of the house much and I love spending time with people I love. So, at a gathering, everyone else might be right around a 5 (they’re enjoying being together but they’re pretty neutral) on a scale of 1 (very low mood) to 10 (overjoyed), but I am at a 7 while trying to pretend I am at a 5 like everyone else. This is very difficult. Let’s say, someone is at this gathering who I feel I have a special connection with. They’ve made me feel safe in the past, I think we have an understanding, etc. I would be at a 9, pretending to be at a 5 like everyone else. Now, let’s say, this person, who I feel connected to, is upset with me. Maybe I didn’t show up for Christmas dinner and they haven’t seen me in months. I can feel their hurt, and suddenly, I go from being at a 9, pretending I’m at a 5, to suddenly being at a 3. I am still trying to pretend to be at a 5, but this is much harder. Other people might notice. They might ask if I’m okay, and this is when the tears start flowing, against my will. I think I am usually a pretty emotionally stable person, but others experience me as being overly emotional and too sensitive. Of course energy levels and sensory needs play a big part as well.
Maybe I am too sensitive. I care about people, a lot. I’ve never liked the saying "life ain't fair" because while this is true, it shouldn’t be this way. If people just cared about and looked out for others, life wouldn't have to be so hard for some people while others just get everything handed to them. Maybe I do take other people’s jokes too hard, or maybe other people are abusive and they're conditioned to think it’s okay since they were treated the same way. Well, it isn't.
I am guilty of this too. One of the most painful things I read in my old journal entries is the way I bullied others. I experienced this my entire life from people who claimed to love me and want the best for me. So, when I cared about someone and thought I knew what was best for them, I would treat them the same way, or I would have discussions with others about what they should do. I was very critical of others, and put a lot of pressure on them to do "the right thing." I meant well. I really cared about people, and I still perpetuated the cycle of abuse.
Maybe I am crazy. "You need help," "Find a therapist in the next week and call them." "It's fine to read books, but you need professional help." I grew up knowing my own mother resented me for being disabled. I was conditioned to hide my visual impairment as much as possible and when she overheard me telling someone "I have anxiety" on the phone, she immediately jumped in with, "who has anxiety?" I knew she was going to invalidate me, so I responded with "my friend Bob." I was forced into therapy twice as a child, once when my parents were getting divorced and once when my teacher read the journal she made us write in every day and claimed she would never read. In both cases, professionals supposedly determined I was fine. I received psychological testing in high school, and all they did was attempt to change my educational track and discourage me from going to a 4 year college. I also was in therapy in college after an abusive relationship, and I was told I was coping normally. Am I crazy and no one has told me? Do they all know something they're not saying, because they don't like labels? The only answers I've ever gotten about my own struggles have been through doing my own research, but maybe I'm just making it up and should just try harder, right?
Well, in 2022, I tried therapy for the fourth time, because of trauma that was coming up and making it difficult for me to attend family gatherings. Guess what they told me? First, they said, “Anxiety, where?” Apparently, I don’t present like someone who has anxiety. Hmmm, that’s familiar. Then, even though I didn’t present like someone with anxiety, they hit me with the labels of Generalized Anxiety, Social Anxiety, PTSD/CPTSD, and Depression. Why? They wanted me to see a psychiatrist about medication. I needed therapy for a specific issue and wasn’t sure about medication. No help was provided. On top of that, the only thing they threw at me that I didn't already know about was CPTSD. So what's wrong with researching things myself and reading books again?
In 2023, I went to therapy for the fifth time. She claimed to know about trauma, but every session was retraumatizing and would cause me to shut down for days. How is that helpful? Why is it professionals get so much credit when we're the ones who know ourselves best? I am not discounting the usefulness of therapy, but it hasn't helped me at all. What's people's issue with me figuring out things on my own? Who is that hurting?
Maybe I'm crazy because I'm different. Maybe I'm crazy because I trigger others, and bring feelings to the surface they'd rather not face. Maybe I'm crazy, because I send emails instead of calling. Maybe I'm crazy because I'm too emotional, or maybe I just had needs I never knew I had and I needed the right language to describe my experiences? And maybe I just needed safe people around me who would listen to and support me without trying to fix me?
Maybe I’m toxic. Maybe I lean on others when I shouldn’t and ask for too much? Maybe I am controlling, requiring too much effort from others. Maybe I’m ungrateful. Maybe I should appreciate others for caring enough to push me to seek help. Maybe I’m manipulative. If people pleasing is manipulation, maybe I am. Maybe I am a liar who deserved everything bad that has ever happened to me. Maybe I don’t deserve to be loved.
Maybe I’ll never be the person they want me to be.
Maybe that’s okay.
Maybe that gives me the permission to just be free, finally.
People can think what they want, say what they want, but they don’t really know me. Even if I were to write everything here, people would still misunderstand me.
And that’s okay.
I still love them, and I am learning to love me.