Frightened

I am frightened all the time. How can no one, ever, in my entire life, have thought that was a sign of something deeper?

Actually, someone did. My stepmother thought I was emotionally disturbed. Oh, and my aunt thought I had been sexually abused (which I guess is another way of saying I seemed emotionally disturbed, really, isn't it?).

From my perspective, I always knew I was odd. A little unusual. A bit strange.

What it took me, oh, 20+ years to realise is HOW fucking strange I am. I am beyond abnormal. I am a proper fruit-loop.

It's like this. Imagine that everyone's thoughts and reasoning ability are blue, and emotions are red. Most people either think logically, in blue, or they feel, in red. You know what I mean. When you're being calm and logical, doing your grocery shopping, you're blue. When you're throwing a temper tantrum because your wife deleted your favourite episode of Battlestar Galactica from Sky+, you're red. Very rarely do the two colours overlap. You're either being logical or emotional. Not both.

But for me... whatever mechanism filters out the emotional response in your brain, just doesn't work in mine. Any new experience, and my world is flooded with red, and I have to try to work through it logically in spite of the fiery haze scorching my synapses. My world doesn't really switch from red to blue, or blue to red; but a dozen times a day, it goes purple.

That's not as pleasant as it sounds. It's distracting, and annoying, even when it is kinda pleasant (when I'm distracted by my emotional response to a song I like, for example).

On the other hand... I like to think I'm a writer. I like the idea that I create things. My purple world is full of inspiration, and if it's full of pain as well, maybe that's not such a high price to pay.

On the other, other hand (or the original hand)... sometimes it is so hard to function this way. Embracing the quirkiness is easy enough to suggest, but harder to follow through when you're constantly worn out, frightened, embarrassed, confused, or any combination of the above. And note the use of the word 'constantly'. I'm not 'continually' one or more of those things--it doesn't come and go, however consistently--it's always there. I am suffering, nearly every minute of every day, and even when I'm not, I am, because I know the pain isn't really gone, it's just eased for a moment.

And oh my God. I've done this to someone else. I have done this to my daughter.

Am I the right person to help her? I know how she suffers, and I give her such leeway because of it. I am more lenient with my own child, because I see myself in her, than I would be with any other child.

Saying that, my judgment has always been exceeded by my mercy. If I'm suffering so much, who's to say that other people aren't as well? And my mama taught me to err on the side of compassion, just in case... which only makes it worse. If I'm such a soft touch generally, and I'm even softer with my daughter, how can I be sure I'm not ruining her??

But then, that's the whole point, isn't it? You can't be sure of anything, really... but I am. I am sure of one thing.

I am sure that all this uncertainty scares the shit outta me.