Right now I just need to write. I need to get my feelings out. I’m suffering from the same old crap that rears it’s ugly head every once in a while, that feeling of deep loneliness and separation that can sometimes send me into a bad place.
I majored in English Literature. One thing you learn in literature is the concept of “other.” The separate, the not quite right. I identify with this idea much more than I care to. I always have. From as far back as my consciousness goes, I knew that I was “other,” I just didn’t have the special word for it. As a little girl, I always knew I was different. I was lucky if I had just one friend to hang out with in the playground. It is still kind of that way. I have a very small social circle (though it is one that I cherish beyond measure with the most beautifully curated individuals — people I am so honoured to have in my life).
As an adult, I came across something called the Myer-Briggs personality test. It turns out my personality is that of an INFJ, the rarest of all the personality types, making up 1-2% of the world’s population. This always made a lot of sense to me. It kind of legitimised what I already knew, and gave my theory a bit of scientific backing.
Well, today I feel more other than I usually do. I was triggered by two things. Thing one: I caught up with someone from my past, someone I thought I’d never hear from again. It was wonderful actually. I discovered that though they’d been through their share of shit, they came out shining. This person is now a professor, has grown up considerably and seems to have developed greatly as a human being. Cherry on the cake? They are in a loving relationship which they have managed to maintain for 4 years. Thing two: I’m feeling a bit neglected by Birdy, and I am letting it affect me much more than I should.
So the end result is this warped idea in my head that everyone has their happy ending except for me. Sometimes I know how dumb I actually sound, but that doesn’t stop the feelings from taking hold. Such seems the case with my friends in real life and my BlogLand friends. So many of you have gone through your trials, and you seem to have either resolved your issues or you now have a spanking new Prince Charming on your arm. You have finally found love. While I love Birdy, there are times when our relationship is quite unsatisfying (right now is one of those times). Happily Ever After seems like a cruel joke. While I’m sincerely happy to see those around me find love, I’m sad because I want to feel that I’m on my way too.
Now I know I just feel this way at this moment because I am in a major downer. I haven’t been triggered like this in a very long time, and so it feels particularly awful. The fairytale? That’s all it is, is bullshit. It’s a myth. Nobody’s life is perfect. I know that. Prince Charming is always an asshole every once in a while, even the shiniest of them all. But sometimes doesn’t it just seem that everyone has it figured out except you?
I spent a long time crying today, I’m ashamed to admit. Pity party, party of one. Damn, I got to stop those. I don’t want a table named after me at Chez Les Miserables! I need to snap myself out of this. I’m going to take myself out to eat and go to the movies (I really want to see I, Tonya), and distract myself a bit. It’s time to put a little self care into action again. I know I am responsible for my own happiness. Birdy is not my source of joy, even though I do have an awesome time in his company. I recognize that the only source of happiness is one that is self generated. But why does that feel like I am retreating into the land of “other”? Why can’t I have happiness, love, and blackened fish sandwiches all at the same time? Universe, that would be quite grand if you could arrange it please.