I thought maybe I can talk about myself.
But who the hell wants to read
When I turned 18, my relatively comfortable life unhinged a little bit. The combination of my first heartbreak, dealing with a sexual assault in the wrong way, a friend's suicide, being a recent high school graduate, my parents seperation, and isolation (I lived in the country, had no car, and the big yellow buses no longer permitted me to ride into town even though I tried to sway them with my sob story) proved a little too much for me to handle and I kind of went off the deep end. I SLOWLY turned into the 18 year old hermit, into that ex-girlfriend (you know the kind) and grew fearful of people and life in general. I couldn't answer the door or the telephone without having an anxiety attack or two, definitely didn't leave the house unless I absolutely had to, and cut myself off from all my friends and family. I spent all night on the dregs of the internet and slept all day (I'm still in denial and like to glamorize this in the style of The Lost Boys which the title is a reference to.) Eventually, my very wise aunt point blank told me "Smarten the fuck up and get your shit together; FOR REAL" which eventually lead to me doing so and seeking treatment. At first it was a total nightmare as I bounced from therapist to therapist because I was all of a sudden scared of them, then to the doctor and finally from prescription to prescription. The antidepressants prescribed to me either made me sick, heightened my fear, made me feel nothing at all, or didn't work. I can tell you I have probably tried every drug out there to treat anxiety and depression and every dosage as well.
Finally I found something that seemed to work and I began to make healthier life choices. And that's how I ended up at this stupid little back yard bonfire party one summer. Having recently re-entered society I can say with confidence I was no social butterfly or the life of the party, but I was doing not too badly either. I wasn't necessarily conversing with, like, anyone, but I wasn't dying of terror either. I was just minding my business on the chair swing when previously mentioned cutie takes a seat next to me. It must have been the one Caramilk cooler fuelling my bravery because my immediate thoughts were "I'm gonna rock this like Napoleon rocked Europe."
That phrase was probably my first mistake because Europe banished Napoleon twice and generally despised him every time something didn't go the way he planned. Rough crowd.
Anyway, I engage in conversation with the cutie, whose name I can't even remember and probably didn't even get - and he's hoping I forgot/never get - and at first things go well and we talk about our common interests and blah blah blah when I completely over estimate how receptive he was to me. Because all of a sudden I'm telling him my new found political views (feminism), that I was rapidly loosing weight for no good reason at all, that my parents were seperating, my sexual assault and my ex boyfriend. Also about how much I LOVE cats. I even momentarily cried on his shoulder. And the most cringe worthy part of this whole story is that whenever he tried to leave, I would grab his hand and sit closer to him and shove my face into his and say "But not you, you understand me. We are like the same person in two bodies trying to rejoin." I think I was literally on the edge of insanity that night.
He finally escaped me. He said he was going to get some more drinks and what would I like. My mood swung and I cheerfully screamed "GREEN PALM BAY" into his ear, probably deafening him, and bounced up and down and clapping on the swing chair like a three year old. He got up and I watched him speed walk directly to his car and drive away. I spent the rest of the night INCONSOLABLE with my friend and her mom in her bedroom.
I have never seen this dude since, which is for the best, and although I found out through that particular event and a few (progressively more sane) events after that that socializing is a SKILL that needs practice, I still have my moments of awkwardness and social ineptness. But I am getting so much better! I can hold down jobs, leave the house, make new friends because they want to be my friend and not because they feel like I will hunt them down and kill them if they're not, and overall, I feel pretty damn good and wouldn't trade those embarrassing (as hell) moments for anything better.
And there you go.
I found something to post about, and hopefully didn't scare you shitless.
