Just how weird is it that the world around me feels make-believe, and the world inside my head is the only thing that truly feels real to me? I often feel as if real life is a really badly written, really long story, full of plot holes, inconsistencies, and character conflicts that don't make much sense. Seeing what's happening in the world, I guess it makes sense that I'd be really confused by it all. We've got a life-threatening virus running rampant, and yet people are finding every excuse not to take it seriously. There are people who are literally starving to death in the world, and yet few people seem to be lifting a finger to help them. People get paid more to throw a pig hide around than to teach children skills that will change their lives forever. I don't want any of this to be "real life." And who would?
Because the world upsets me and disappoints me so often, I learned how to disassociate myself from it all somewhere along the way, building a reality inside my own mind to retreat into when things get too hard. I've become so good at it that by now it's reflexive, and I become really anxious if I have to emerge from my imaginary world for any reason. And I admit that my impulse to retreat into my head has gotten me into a lot of trouble before. I recently fell off my bike and lost a tooth because I zoned out when I was riding - I was pretty tired that day and just didn't want to have to feel it any longer. Unfortunately, knowing that a habit will get me into trouble doesn't mean I know how to break it. I'm deeply bothered by my own refusal to be present in the real world, but I simply can't seem to stop zoning out, closing myself off, and shutting my mind down when things get hard.
I realize that it looks as if I changed the subject of this post after the first paragraph, but bear with me for one more moment as I explain that it's my habit of running away from reality that's left me so lonely. I'll go to interact with someone, and I feel as if I'm constantly trying to look around my own brick wall to see them. Their voices often sound muffled to me, and when I touch them I can feel the sensation, but I don't really feel as if I'm connecting to them. Struggling to feel connected to other people and feeling as if I'm constantly failing is so frustrating to me that sometimes I simply give up. The exertion of seeing and hearing the other person around my own walls literally gives me a headache, so it's easier to stop trying. It really hard to keep on trying to do something that's so painful.
If you see me withdrawing, it would be easy to assume it's because of the fact I'm an introvert (that's often the reason, but not always), or because I'm not interested in the conversation (I usually want to participate, but find it too hard around my walls), or because my SPD is getting the better of me (that happens to me a lot). When you come right down to it, all of these other reasons I have a hard time interacting would become a lot easier if I wasn't so terrified to leave the "safety" of my own mind.
I really hate how this habit of mine has messed with my social life. I've sometimes made members of my family feel as if I'm ignoring them, or as if I don't care what they have to say. Trying to keep up with my friends is difficult at best, and I can't help but wonder if they think I must not like them that much if I almost never get in touch with them, then mentally withdraw myself when I finally do. And as for my love life - forget it! I can crush really hard on someone and endlessly build them up inside my own mind, but then as soon as I try to establish a connection for real, I find that I simply can't do it. It doesn't seem to matter how much of a hero I might have made of them in my own mind, or how excited I am to get to know them for real, my walls slap me in the face and make it nearly impossible for me to talk to them, let alone be myself, or be charming, or whatever the heck I'm supposed to do. The walls in my face make it really hard to read their signals correctly, say the right things, or do the right things.
I like to end my posts on a positive, or at least hopeful, note. But I honestly don't know what I need to do about this problem. If I try to force myself to interact with people, even though it scares me, I find myself withdrawing even further, or even losing my temper. Sometimes I even burst into tears if I'm not careful.
I really, really want to have better relationships with my family. I want to be able to chat easily with my friends, without having to constantly worry that I missed a social cue because my wall happened to be in the way at the moment. I want to eventually get married and raise a family of my own, and I want it so badly that it hurts. And I'm really afraid that even if I do manage to have a family of my own, I'll be so absent-minded that my husband and children will feel ignored, unnoticed, or even unloved by me. Noisy situations are one of the things that causes me to withdraw most quickly, and small children are noisy. And so are not-so-small children. Overall, a family is usually a loud, chaotic thing, and I fear that if I don't find a way to stop withdrawing every time something starts to overwhelm me, I just won't be able to be the kind of wife or mother I want to be.
Okay, I'm really, really scared. Scared about what will happen next in my life. Scared to try to figure out what to do. Scared to open up to other people and let them see my baffling challenges. All I know for certain about what I should do to solve my disassociation problem is that I shouldn't give up. So I won't give up. My efforts really don't seem to be getting me anywhere lately. But I'm not going to quit.
I really hope that someday, I'll be able to hold a conversation without feeling as if I'm trying to see around a pile of bricks.
