It ain’t fiction, just a natural fact…
Put me in public
And I’ll have panic attacks.
Thank you Paula Abdul for that little ear worm. Anywho…
Mental recovery from my latest fall into the deep-end is going as well as to be expected. I took an intentional disassociation day today (read: I played video games all day) and listened to old episodes of “What Happened” on Youtube. I’m a big fan of the show and highly recommend it. Something about watching the turmoil and, in many cases, failures of these projects actually makes me want to work on my own shit. In spite of the less than pleasant consequences for some of the studios associated with these projects, it’s a lovely reminder that failure isn’t the end and dreaming about success does little to nothing for me. What matters is producing things. It’s a nice little reminder to hold onto.
What isn’t so nice is one of the things I’ve been doing my best not to think about. Long story short, I sent an apology to that friend of mine I didn’t say a word to and, well, that was not the move. Because it was entirely based off of feelings and ideas in my own mind, rather than anything based in reality, I now, I’m sure, look like an absolute crazy person. I sent my apology, took a nap, then sent an apology for my apology just to put another nail into that coffin.
It reminds of many years ago in college when I was out shooting pool and having a few drinks with my roommates and this girl I was interested in. I was super flirty throughout the night. Driving her back to her place though, I felt the need to apologize for my behavior. It never occurred to me that she might be interested in me as well. In my mind, as usual, I couldn’t fathom someone actually wanting to date me. I became ashamed of my flirty behavior, convinced that I’d made her uncomfortable and potentially ruined her night. After all, while everyone loves attention, when it comes from the wrong person, it’s gross and it’s harassment and that’s all attention from me would be seen as—or so I always told myself.
I apologized and dropped her off. Needless to say, all I really did was flirt with someone all night then told her I didn’t mean it.
Definitely not a win.
In this instance, I’m sure I’ve shot myself in the foot again. I only hope that she can recognize that I’m just a bit broken upstairs and that it’s nothing she did. I hate that I made her uncomfortable, because that certainly was never my intent. She was one of my favorite people to talk to, even if all we really did was shoot memes back and forth. Hell, I got to where I looked forward to waking up and seeing all the memes she’d sent me over the day. Maybe that will return. I’m not holding my breath because that just makes my brain work even worse than it already does. I deleted the conversation just to keep myself from seeing it and have placed the ball in her court, so to speak.
I haven’t learned a lot, but I have learned that when I act out in some manner or another or when I have a panic attack and do something stupid, I can’t fix it. I can apologize, but I can’t undo letting out the crazy. I just have to leave it up to them if their willing to risk having to witness the crazy again and to not hold it against them if they’re not.
I don’t like dealing with me, so it’d be more than a little fucked up to get mad at someone else for not being willing to.
Dicks for listening.