Nobody ever likes to be called out for anything.
Earlier today, I got asked three questions that are all valid and worth answering. I said at the time I was asked they were worth giving some thought to and I didn't want to respond with simple explanations because they are not simple questions.
Question One: When you ask for help, what is it that you actually want?
This might be the hardest one to answer because asking anyone for help is not something I really know how to do. I'm so used to the shoe being on the other foot and having both people ask me and me offering my help to the people that matter.
Because of that, trying to condense it down to a singular thing seems a lot harder than it probably is, but I'll give it a shot.
My friend Amber pointed out the other day that I'm always the person to come in and rescue someone if they need it, but when they try to repay in kind, I won't accept it out of a warped sense of self-worth. I'm more content to be the martyr as it seems more fitting of someone with a life like mine.
I would like to think that those I care about know if they needed me to, there is no limit that I wouldn't go to help them. I do that for two reasons. One, is because I love them and two is because I know how much it hurts when all you want is to be rescued and are ignored.
So what do I want?
I want to know in my mind, truly know that the people who offer that help aren't going to turn around and bolt when things inevitably get real messy during this process. I want to know that I won't be ignored or marginalized and that what's going on isn't a figment of my imagination as it's been in the past.
It's not up to them either. It's up to me convincing myself that I don't have to question anyone's motives anymore. The only way I'm going to be able to do that is by letting my guard down enough to accept their help, whatever that may be.
Question Two: How many times do I have to be told I'm cared about before I will actually believe it?
The answer for this obviously ties into my first one. I've had people tell me my whole life how much I'm cared about and I've believed it. Then those people left and I've felt like a complete imbecile for doing so.
As a result, I accept affection like I accept compliments. Tentatively, at best. I brush it aside and minimize it as much as I can, but never let myself just take it for what it was.
Example: Four hours ago, I had someone say they still wanted to help me, even though I had hurt her once quite badly.
"Because you matter," she said.
And all I wanted was to argue back and demand to know how she can possibly look at me that way after what we've gone through together, even though it would be pointless to do so.
Being loved or cared for by someone else brings an element of very real fear that I didn't always have. As a result, my baseline has been that I care about someone more then they could possibly begin to about me. I also simply feel like I don't deserve the adoration as my self-worth has continued to wallow. Part of that comes from being rejected early and often and part of it is the sheer intensity of what I actually feel.
That's not to say I don't want someone to love me, nor do I not want people to care. It's when they stop loving me or I have to stop feeling the same way that it becomes very painful and I become even more reluctant to try repeating the process.
Question Three: Can I act like I care about other people instead of just brushing off the hate I feel?
I make no bones about the fact that the dominant aspect of my personality is based in all the anger I've hung onto for the majority of my life. And while I've tried very hard to not let it bleed off into the friendships and impact the people I know who never did anything to warrant being treated as such, it's gotten easier for me to lash out when it wasn't warranted.
As I've said before, I come from a family where having addictive and volatile personalities isn't uncommon. I'm not using that as an excuse, but where my father was also a really angry guy who'd just get drunk or stoned every chance he got, I get angry and then live on the emotional and psychological high I get from it. Like it or not, there are genetic and hereditary correlations when it comes to mental illness issues like depression that can be further exacerbated as we develop. Such things are decided by people with a lot more degrees and work in a higher pay-grade than I'm likely to hit in this life.
It will probably sound relatively insane, but I prefer being angry to being calm, because the anger provides the boost I need to actually get shit done or say the things I otherwise would be too timid to say. In that aspect, I am complete junkie and wholly dependent on getting really pissed off during the day to motivate me in doing anything. And if that means I have to bite back at someone in the process, then I could always justify it by saying at least I'm not sitting on my butt feeling sorry for myself.
It's also because of that dependency that I have such an incredibly hard time letting it go. It's not that I like conflict or being so wound up that I could knock someone through a wall. To be honest, coming down from that every day sucks. It's being so uncomfortable with being calm or at any measure of peace and/or relaxation that is the struggle.
Being able to care about someone is a calming action. It's soothing, and I do like it a lot. But when you're essentially pre-programmed to react to something with hostility, even if it's someone offering the love or affection you so desperately want or need, overcoming that can be truly very hard. That doesn't mean it can't be done, though.
It's just another thing I'm going to have to deal with the further down this road I go.
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