I used to think I didn’t give a shit what others thought of me. Keep rolling, keep moving. Fuck em.
I used to shrug off compliments and insults because I knew what fueled them, and I didn’t need any of that.
I used to think I knew who I was and was secure in that.
Now I know that I just don’t trust people who think they know me. The closer we are, the less trustworthy someone is to me. The more you talk, the more you assume I did, about something relevant, I’m sure. Then, you think you really do know me. And once you really think you get the wheels spinning around in my noggin you pay me a kind or cruel word and I am supposed to believe it.
But come on.
You don’t know me, not really.
You know the two hour breakdown I had. You know the scenario from one or two days. You know an anecdote, or an empathizing response. To quote Tool, all you know about me is what I’ve told you.
Now tell me what that’s worth, having it mirrored back to me?
This is my fundamental problem. At least since that April.
This is why it confuses me that a compliment from someone NOT invested in me at all can brighten my entire day. Why I obsess and walk on eggshells to analyze and please and measure.
What is this individual, this new me, doing?
A coworker says a piercing would look cute on me. -Butterflies.
A fellow says I’m silly and it’s a good thing. -Huge smiles.
A friend says I am a cool mom and do the most for animals. -Validation.
What is this.
Why the difference in response, if no one knows me any more than anyone else? Is this security, this return to a human response, or insecurity? Would the latter be more “normal?”
Who am I asking?
You’re OCD, and you live in THERE??