I don’t really know where this is heading or if I will even publish this, but I felt like writing this so here goes.
Have you ever had a day where you felt so self conscious that you wanted the earth to swallow you whole? Because I certainly have. We all have character flaws or things we’d like to change about ourselves. I just happened to have a day where a large amount of my flaws were pointed out to me (once again) and I felt utterly ill at ease and inadequate. The subliminal spotlight on insecurities is sometimes forgotten but never truly hidden.
I don’t think I’m very skilled at socializing. I’m very awkward and if I feel pressured to keep up with reality, I tend to lose the plot. I’m probably an introvert as I do best alone. When it’s just me I can put everything on pause and follow my haphazard trail of thoughts. They always start at one point and go in a maze of swirls and loops until I don’t know how I reached the end.
Writing is how I express myself better. I have time to organize my thoughts in the time it takes to flow from my brain down my fingertips and onto the paper (or screen). Print and ink rescues me from avoidable interaction and inner turmoil. Whenever time is made for composing tangible conclusions, the din inside dies down.
When I’m talking to humans it all goes a bit awry. At times I don’t say anything at all. Sometimes it’s to avoid conflict and sometimes it’s just because I’m over analyzing everything in my head and trying to decide how to put my discombobulation of a mind into understandable language for others to comprehend. Most of the time, I just can’t. Often in front of new people my tongue is trapped behind the walls of enamel entirely. Even in a familiar setting I may become tongue tied or a mime; having expectations for mediums and clairvoyants to decode my inner ramblings for the audience.
If I’m not mute, I’m a chatterbox. Not in a good way. I say whatever comes to mind immediately. It all just tumbles straight out of my head into the conversation. My inner dialogue is introduced and steals the show. Word vomit is a truly graphic, yet accurate, portrayal of what happens. Yet another set of intricacies enlaced in a lattice of abundant expressions and exhalations; awaiting understanding to be pulled from the depths of confusion and fabrications.
Then, we have the moments where I am transported into other dimensions. This alternates between the silence and the noise. These are slightly more extreme versions of what I mentioned before.
My travels either take me to where I slip into a conversational coma and don’t hear a single word of what anyone else says. Basically, I zone out. This dimension is rather like an out of body experience. When I snap back, a rush of listening-and-needing-to-respond is thrown at me as I struggle to recall what has been said through the haze.
Or they take me to a place where I am trapped inside my own head and feel as if my body has been possessed. I hear everything that I say, but I can’t stop myself. It just carries on until I manage to take back control. Letters and spaces tumble and crash into one another and then into a homemade booby trap.
I know all of these things about myself, but it becomes more difficult to be around people when they notice it and mention any of it. Regardless of their opinions, I am self aware of my actions. Nerves aren’t particularly helpful when attempting to retain control though. They are more annoyed after a session of poking and prodding.
Socializing is something I have never been entirely comfortable with. There are, however, some who help me forget. I enjoy them and their souls enough to blur out my fears and inadequacies. But when it all comes back into focus, zoomed in so clearly…
It makes me wonder why I venture out of fantasy worlds and the minds of others to live in this reality. A preset dialogue is so much easier to follow rather than the impromptu of consciousness.
I don’t particularly enjoy struggling with these issues of mine. But it bothers me even more when I end up hurting people through it. Whether I say too much or nothing at all, a rushed phrase or silent gaze can upset those I love.
I suppose this is an apology to them and to myself.
Ego gets in the way of soul once more. A relaxed and comfortable me would probably be less self conscious and maybe capable of finding a happy median. The place between static and shrill, where thoughts and acknowledgement take turns. If only. Maybe one day.
Until then, I will treasure my solitude and utilize it to discover methods of taming the wild thoughts and releasing the imprisoned ones. Or try at least. You know what they quip about doing and saying after all.
I read this again the next morning (I wrote this at midnight on a whim) and I decided that I will publish it. I haven’t really written much about my musings in a while. It’s easy to dwell on things that intrude on my thoughts, and what better way to try relinquish the negative energy than releasing it into in the blogospere. Letting go like a seed in the wind.
If only thoughts could disappear and be planted somewhere else to grow into something as beautiful as a tree or a flower. Who’s to say they can’t? Maybe online conversations are good enough to spark realization in my own mind or that of the beautiful little souls who read my words by chance. Happy accidents or the threads of fate. That is what life is made of in the end.
Challenges are what make life interesting, and overcoming them is what makes life meaningful