it's probably me
There's a poster on G+ that I follow. She's really smart and I really like reading her stuff. There's always comments but the comment field always tells me comments are disabled. Sometimes it's lots of comments, other times only a few. I find it weird but today thought, hey, maybe I've been specifically blocked from commenting by the OP? Maybe it's personal? Maybe my comments when I first found her angered her or were deemed unworthy. Maybe I'm way stupider than I think I am, on top of being far more selfish than I realize, far more controlling than I intend to be, so on. Lately I've really been doubting myself like that. Thinking perhaps I'm all these awful things people hate, completely, and quite obnoxious beyond reason. The only answer I can think of is to remove myself as best I can from human society. It's what they clearly want. They don't want my comments, ideas, thoughts or opinions and I can't be present without having any of them, and I'm not allowed to be present with attitudes unspoken either. If I could make small talk and empty platitudes perhaps I could rely on that but I don't have that art nor do I appreciate it.
I think I'd rather feel like this than watch myself ooze insincerity. I don't have a choice anyway. I can't be silent, I can't moderate myself, and nobody likes what comes out. Ergo, I just have to adjust to this choice to keep to myself. It's hard. I'm fighting my self pity on an houry basis. Feeling left out and unwanted is hard to address even when it's also a choice you're making. It's not like nobody in the world ever dealt with me, I just didn't like the quality of those relationships so I fought back till the relationship was broken. I refused to be a good little victim and sit there being used or abused as the other chose.
I woke up feeling like utter shit. My last dream was clear and it was about a fight with my parents, but the previous few scenes all had conflict as a base. Conflict with neighbors, conflict with strangers, even an evacuation due to crazed gunmen in the mall! The fight with my parents was really stupid. First time I've seen my father since well before he died, in dreams or person, and it's a fight. He wanted to drive my car with my mom in the passenger seat and me in the back like a good little child. My 80+ blind father wanted to be captain in situ of my precious little rebuilt car and I wasn't going for that. I said no, he said no. I told him I wasn't going to let him, he told me it was that oor nothing, so I took back the keys and said I'd be busy but I hoped they enjoyed their vacation and I started walking away. that's what it took to win the argument, which I did just before waking. Even dead, my Dad can't just be a guy I love, he has to be a source of tension. My family, a lesson in stress that I didn't really need.
PTSD isn't just for war. that's it's most dramatic form, and it's got to be rough, but any abuse victim caan get a form of it. where they find themselves frequently reliving the abuse in dreams, daydreams, and reactions to things. You get too sensitive.
I think I'd rather feel like this than watch myself ooze insincerity. I don't have a choice anyway. I can't be silent, I can't moderate myself, and nobody likes what comes out. Ergo, I just have to adjust to this choice to keep to myself. It's hard. I'm fighting my self pity on an houry basis. Feeling left out and unwanted is hard to address even when it's also a choice you're making. It's not like nobody in the world ever dealt with me, I just didn't like the quality of those relationships so I fought back till the relationship was broken. I refused to be a good little victim and sit there being used or abused as the other chose.
I woke up feeling like utter shit. My last dream was clear and it was about a fight with my parents, but the previous few scenes all had conflict as a base. Conflict with neighbors, conflict with strangers, even an evacuation due to crazed gunmen in the mall! The fight with my parents was really stupid. First time I've seen my father since well before he died, in dreams or person, and it's a fight. He wanted to drive my car with my mom in the passenger seat and me in the back like a good little child. My 80+ blind father wanted to be captain in situ of my precious little rebuilt car and I wasn't going for that. I said no, he said no. I told him I wasn't going to let him, he told me it was that oor nothing, so I took back the keys and said I'd be busy but I hoped they enjoyed their vacation and I started walking away. that's what it took to win the argument, which I did just before waking. Even dead, my Dad can't just be a guy I love, he has to be a source of tension. My family, a lesson in stress that I didn't really need.
PTSD isn't just for war. that's it's most dramatic form, and it's got to be rough, but any abuse victim caan get a form of it. where they find themselves frequently reliving the abuse in dreams, daydreams, and reactions to things. You get too sensitive.