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When I look at the world- at people, at buildings, at streets, at nature and animals, and then I look at myself, I always feel that I am the stranger. I understand body language, what it entails, the little microaggressions that gives one away, but is never distinctly noticed by another. I understand how I should generally act- engrained into me by parental figures that were too afraid of the societal norms and the beliefs that they could be lesser than for being anything greater than normal. When someone is afraid, when someone is angry, or sad, and they look at me confused and unhinged and say, "I don't know why I'm acting like this!" I do. I know that they were tiggered by a subtle uttering mis-aligned in our conversation that turned into what felt to be a provocation. Or maybe they were triggered by a memory of things long-forgotten; things they wished they could still forget. For me, I just tend to know.
And so, I'm a stranger... because I know, yet I don't at the same time. I know why people act the way they do, but don't understand why people act the way they do. I know why I see things the way I do, but why do I see them the way I do? Why can't I not? It creates a disconnect. A self-loathing. An ever-racing mind that won't quit.
Tell me, is it common? When you're mad... is it common to be able process the steps of rage, shock, grief and despair- temper yourself down, reason with yourself and then make a plan within a second of your mind in the fit of your tyranny so as to not fuel the flames of the other's contempt? When in arguments with my girlfriend, it's not like I'm cold or disconnected, I'm only as such whence I shut down entirely, but I am careful, calculating... and, for me, I am always told that it's wrong, and I hate that.
"Fuck off! Maybe I don't love you as much as I thought I did!" She would say in her moment of rage.
'Ah...' I would think to myself. 'She's upset. I pushed her too far. Her face is red and she's curled up in a ball. I'm pissed. I want to hit something; it's the adrenaline Calm down. For now, let's take a deep breath, and watch her, make sure she she's okay. Let's step back, give her some space, and lower my voice. I think I accidentally raised it to match hers. I want her to know I'm not hostile. I want her to know she's safe. She needs to feel safe. Should I leave the room and give us some time to cool off? If our conversation doesn't go anywhere in the next moment or so, I should do that, I don't want this to escalate. If she escalates further, she'll hate herself, she probably already does. She always hates on herself when she says those things. You know she didn't mean it. So, let's just make sure she knows that we DO love her.'
I think and formulate. I watch and analyze. I tell people what I'm doing like if I'm going to approach them, why I am and move slowly and show them my hands. Or stuff like this:
"I made you cry." She would say.
"I'm glad you did because now I can calm down and think clearly."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Studies have shown that when people cry it releases certain chemicals in the body that reduces stress and relieves negative emotions allowing clearance for clearer thinking and comprehension. So, thank you for letting me cry."
And, yes, I have said that to my girfriend in the middle of arguments. For some reason, that is how I process her space. Her emotions. Her needs. That is how I am with people. With everyone.
I feel manipulative. I feel deceitful. I don't know what I am. I have been called a gaslighter, not by her, but by my parents and by the people who, I suppose I call manipulative back. Still, maybe I am manipulative. I am always observing, always trying to observe and learn because I don't understand and I hate that I don't understand. I've cut myself off from most people because I've gotten tired of the many rules that follow relationships- platonic and otherwise. Rules that never made sense to me.
Rules like if I date someone and break up, then my best friend dates them, they're not my best friend. They were still my best friend because my ex is not an object I can claim, and even still, if I were to throw away an item, it is no longer "mine" to possess, so no matter who takes it, why should I be upset at them for taking it? If I don't like that person, I simply did not associate with them, I did not put my best friend in a cage due to my person feelings on the matter.
Or othertimes it would be that I never understood general etiquette around my friends, so they generally didn't have me around unless for their personal favor. I didn't understand what was allowed to say, and what wasn't. Or physical contact. That hugging other friends wasn't allowed when dating, otherwise you'd be designated a cheater, or you'd be designated a cheater if you were friendly with a lot of people of the same sex as that of the one you were dating at the time.
None of whatever happened made sense to me. Caring about someone meant you had feelings. Knowing about someone or something made you arrogant. Being eccentric made you ditzy, while being depressed made you gloomy. I didn't fit in anywhere. No matter where I tried, I couldn't find anyone... I guess... the reason why I love my girlfriend so much is because she doesn't try to make me fit in; doesn't want me to. She tries to understand what doesn't make sense and she doesn't think I'm arrogant for just "knowing" what's up with her.
She always has me in on her therapy sessions, and she always says to me the same thing, "Every time people ask me why I involve you in such personal things, it's because you know me better than myself." And it feels weird because I don't think that. I don't think anyone should, but I think what she means is that she has repressed memories, repressed thoughts, repressed moments, and so, where she will forget moments after, I always take the time to remember what she said so that it's never lost.
But it feels weird. Remembering people's bad stuff. The things people hate, the things they fear and they repress. I always noticed that about myself and hated it. Sometimes, I will know someone for so long, and so well, yet never even be able to recount their favourite color (I was friends with someone for a year and couldn't even recall their name), yet their greatest fear and darkest secret, I will have stored carefully in my memory, even long after we departed. I always feel like it's manipulative. People tell me it is. But, it's not like I want to use it against them.
When someone is faced against a dragon, their favorite color purple won't save their lives, but the shield will save their body and the sword will end the nightmare. I want to be able to help them find their sword and sheid against said dragon, and know when the dragon is upon them in the first place. Whether it's morning thunder storms for some, or a guest speaker at school talking about toxic relationships which spurrs on a trigger about a current toxic relationship for another. For some friends, it would be homework or family or unsolicited touching. Crowds, sun, dark... whatever it was, I treasured knowing that far more than knowing their favorite color, and I became intrusive.
By wanting to know so much, by handling things so differently, I couldn't connect the way I wanted to. Now, I feel as though I am a stranger. I know why people do the things they do and I can't fault a single person for their short-comings, though I can be angry and, for those who betrayed me for many, many years... apathetic and disappointed, all I became is afraid in the end. But the strange thing is, I'm not afraid of the strangers around me, and the potential toxicities wrought in future relationships, but the stranger that is me. The stranger of many masks who has yet to know who yet he is to be. That is who I grow to fear more and more each coming day, each passing betrayal, each broken friendship.
Afterall, who else is there to blame but myself? I'm the one who knows nothing of this world: of the people, the buildings, the streets and the animals. I am the stranger that I fear the most.
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Thanks for sharing. This reminds me of an expression, "know thyself". Odd thing is - one has to experience so many aspects of life before one truly knows themselves. This can take years, and of course involve actions one regrets. But at some point we know enough of ourselves to ultimately and hopefully share our "gift" with others. Best of luck.
Courtesy notice: the following includes a reference to a book that contains writings over 2000 years old which are mostly parables about human nature, both vile human nature as well as moral human nature, parables that are meant to teach us to learn and grow, including the teachings of Christ Jesus. No religion required, and better yet: no public displays of devotion required, although the former and latter are admirable if practiced freely out of one's own free will and without the threat of being beheaded. Some bullies will label this "trolling", so "change the channel" now if of no interest to you.
1 Thessalonians 5:11
Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.
Mark 12:28-31
And Christ Jesus said the 2 greatest commandments are:
Love God first and foremost.
Love your fellow-being as you love yourself.
From following or not following these, all good or evil cascades, respectively.
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