I consider my place in the world quite a bit. I analyze my interactions, my contributions and my worth more than I probably should. At some level I know I am damaged goods, but don’t we all have scars? Are we not all schlepping around baggage pawned off on us by someone else?
I have shortcomings that some say are talents but they only see the surface of them. I need to plan, not that it ever works out but if I can see the path, how all the pieces fit, and what can go wrong it affords me some comfort, reduces the anxiety; a direct result of the damage control I learned to do when life was a disaster and I had no voice or control. I don’t trust easily, through life I have learned to be independent which means I have missed out on things; I don’t let people in all the way although I want nothing more than to have meaningful relationships. I suppose my analytic mind can be the most obvious, I consider everything. Last week I was having dinner with some people, a few old friends and there was someone new in the group; he said very little to me and was clearly not comfortable with the setting but after I made a comment about the food, he quickly chimed in and heckled me about analyzing how the pizza was made. I didn’t think much of it at the time, it was in jest but have since realized I do that constantly, with people, interactions, readings, and apparently even my food. I a bit of a contentious discussion a dear friend pointed it out the week before too. I must drive people absolutely bonkers with that behavior. I do know that the analysis has helped me survive emotionally, it has been a blessing as I am working through the recent challenges from my past that have arrived in the present so maybe it is both a gift and a burden.
Leaving the office yesterday I felt I was carrying the weight of the world. The therapist has tiptoed around things, focusing on treatment and coping strategies but not so much the diagnosis but she will mention it when it supports her position on treatment. I know I am broken, scarred in ways no one should be but to have that explained, even in clinical terms by the psychiatrist impacted my psyche. Is it because my complicity resulted in the damage? If I were told I have let’s say… high cholesterol would I feel less of a person like I do now; I would have contributed to that by eating too many fries so would I tie that diagnosis to my self-worth? I knew I was rough around the edges. I know I have experienced things in life that only few if any would ever know because I would keep those skeletons tucked deep away. I understand that I have lost pieces of myself along the way for when you are rushing to collect the shattered parts and retreat you are bound to leave something behind. I also understand that I keep myself protected more that I should; the few times I have let others in it was overwhelmingly scary but absolutely amazing, worth the risk. Now that someone else has identified my brokenness, pointed out the damage done I just want to retreat from the world even more. I know I am not deserving of many things; I have lived the illusion that I am worth being loved and cherished but I know that is not try, no matter how hard I try to smooth out the rough edges and fill in the missing pieces. I want to climb into bed, pull the covers tight and sleep away the remainder of my days…. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.
“I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken.” -Margaret Mitchell