Friday, September 23, 2011

Thoughts on life

17 years. There's nothing really wrong with me; I'm just a little bit different. A lot of people have had similar issues and have found their own ways of dealing with them, but I'm afraid that I'll always be this way... and that makes it even more frustrating. I'm not groping for sympathy or crying for help here, I just feel like some of my issues have been bottled up for awhile and I feel the need to be understood as a person.

I have trouble developing new routines. I'll practice something religiously for weeks or months and then miss one day and never do it again. I get panicky when I have to talk on the phone. I practice conversations endlessly in my head, petrified by the thought that I won't be able to understand what the other person is saying if I can't see their faces while they talk. I prefer to spend my time alone. I spend hours fixating on pointless problems. I taught myself to solve Rubik's cubes, but now that I can solve anything up to a 7x7x7 cube it doesn't seem to be as much of a challenge; It just takes longer and I don't have much free time to waste.  I procrastinate when I'm unsure of the outcome of my plans. I stay silent or simply nod and sigh in commiseration  when I don't completely understand a conversation because I'm afraid of making an inappropriate or blunt comment that would require explanation. I often read depth in facial expressions and body language that isn't there. Songs and catch phrases get stuck in my head for weeks at a time and the only way I can sleep is by drowning out the noise with audiobooks. Ender's Game used to be my favorite; I listened to it every night for about 5 years. Unfortunately it didn't hold my attention very well after I had memorized every chapter. There are always so many thoughts and ideas racing through my head that I have trouble speaking for more than a few seconds at a time. I read the same sentences over and over again before I can fully comprehend their meaning. I forget what day it is, or month. 17 years in therapy and the best I can do is "cope." But I do cope. I keep moving. Maybe I won't always be like this. Maybe someday I'll find my real self buried under all of these neuroses. All I can do is keep digging and hold onto the things that make me happy.

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