Thursday, August 9, 2018

outsidr

So much recently has served to remind me that I do not belong.
Just now, a text from a friend, referencing a DJ I've never heard of.
"He's famous," friend writes, implying "DUH," and I feel sick with shame.
Likely the DJ is someone I would have known about, had I grown up going to school and having friends and been cool, and not been shut away in an uber-religious household, not been un-cool.
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This same conversation came up a few weeks ago at a casual drinks hangout. I mentioned homeschooling, thinking belatedly that it was a terrible idea (I rarely do so) and was promptly reminded why, when one of my companions rhapsodized about how strong I was and how had I ever survived. Have I survived? I honestly don't know sometimes. I might still be there, and only imagining my future, my now. It was such a lonely and sad and painful growing-up. During the rhapsodies I dissociated, feeling as though I were in a tunnel. I could not stop the hot tears from coming. My companions chattered on, not seeming to notice, not even after I fled the table to sob in the bathroom, and calm myself (I'm good at this, I know how to do this) and dry my tears and take a deep breath and return. Not even then did they acknowledge my pain and suffering. So. Now you know why it's a terrible idea to bring up homeschooling. It identifies you most certainly as "other."
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At work I feel alien and misfit, slapped down today for requesting funding (a meager two grand) and slapped down last week for asking for relief from misophonia (my co-facilitator didn't want to hurt our trainees' feelings, nevermind mine).
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What to do? What I have always done. Cope, Deal. Hide away inside myself. My shrink asks me if I want to be known by my friends, and I say no. Absolutely no.

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