spaceboy135
Well-known member
Sometimes it feels like such a waste to keep a journal without getting any feedback on it. But then blogging is like, writing stuff FOR the ratings and comments. I want to go in between those two things...
vj288 inspired me to do this, and I'm gonna copy him in the format because I liked his, so here goes:
1/15/11
It's 1:20 in the morning. I really wish I had a job, because my roommates are gone all day long doing their jobs (they each have two). I've never had a job in all of college because mechanical engineering would've been too hard for me to handle with one. Anyway, them being gone kinda made me feel like a loser.
They each have passions too. I want a passion! I used to have plenty enough to spare, but I threw them all out the window due to moral reasons. For instance, I didn't want to be really buff anymore as I used to be because I felt that it was a crutch for my self-esteem to lean on. Youth ministry-- when I got SA in my senior year of high school, I couldn't be the "big powerful leader" I used to be anymore-- and besides, SA actually helped me to realize that I only did it to be liked, respected, looked up to, and admired. Drawing's not fun anymore; feels more like a chore. I only like to read books immediately following having a substantial amount of social interaction, because only then do I feel secure enough to read without feeling like I should be doing something else.
In fact, that seems to be a predominant force in all my hobbies: I don't like playing computer games, watching movies, reading books or playing instruments or anything unless I feel like I've had a complete amount of social interaction that day. Otherwise I'll feel like a loser in doing them-- somehow, some way.
My friends every now and then will point out that I don't have a job, that I don't have any friends outside of them (because they're all one group of people that hangs out with each other anyway, but every one of them has their own individual circles of friends as well), and stuff like that. I know they don't know my problems, nor would I want them to know, because once I tell someone about it, everything changes and they begin to treat me differently (my parents are the only ones I've told; my twin knows but doesn't mind because he has issues as well, so he doesn't judge me). I'd rather be perceived as weird than afflicted.
My roomie came back tonight from a date with a reportedly gorgeous blonde, which he said went perfectly. I listened and struggled to not feel sorry for myself, which I think I pulled off pretty well. Still kinda anxious listening to and being in the same room as him... Voice was a little unsteady, and I couldn't smile very much outside of the quick, forced grins. I'm still better than I was at Christmastime, so I feel good about that and look forward to getting even better. Anyway, he went on about all these people he's been talking to and whose lives have affected him and whose he has affected-- and went on about stories about him and his millions of friends-- he knows everybody in Lubbock from being a coffee shop worker, and gets three girls' phone numbers a week. My other roomie is a coach and Bible study leader.
What a challenge, not comparing yourself to the successes that live under the same roof as you! But I can do this, and do you know why?
Because I, who they sometimes consider to be a loser, or someone who is just a lowlife lazy bum, or a socially reclusive nerd, am not any of those things at all. What they're sometimes ribbing at and laughing at and looking down upon isn't me as a person, whether they know it or not; it's my anxiety. That's right; I am invincible underneath the shell of my disorder. My personality will never change, I will always be a people person, and I will always be good and graceful with people and social situations, whether my anxiety allows me to be or not. (Sometimes I'll be walking behind somebody on a sidewalk and will have something perfect to say to them-- I'm just too anxious to say it.) Doesn't matter what my anxiety may do to me. I'll always be there. I'll always be a guy that has a lot to offer to that special someone whom I hope to meet soon, whether my anxiety allows me to or not. I'll always be funny and goofy and happy, whether my SA allows me to feel humorous or not. Finally, I'll always be creative as well, whether my SA allows me to focus or not. It doesn't change who you are, no matter how much it feels like it does.
Therefore, what I would otherwise have considered to be an inevitable fate of perpetual inferiority to those who rock at grabbing life by the horns, is merely an illusion.
vj288 inspired me to do this, and I'm gonna copy him in the format because I liked his, so here goes:
1/15/11
It's 1:20 in the morning. I really wish I had a job, because my roommates are gone all day long doing their jobs (they each have two). I've never had a job in all of college because mechanical engineering would've been too hard for me to handle with one. Anyway, them being gone kinda made me feel like a loser.
They each have passions too. I want a passion! I used to have plenty enough to spare, but I threw them all out the window due to moral reasons. For instance, I didn't want to be really buff anymore as I used to be because I felt that it was a crutch for my self-esteem to lean on. Youth ministry-- when I got SA in my senior year of high school, I couldn't be the "big powerful leader" I used to be anymore-- and besides, SA actually helped me to realize that I only did it to be liked, respected, looked up to, and admired. Drawing's not fun anymore; feels more like a chore. I only like to read books immediately following having a substantial amount of social interaction, because only then do I feel secure enough to read without feeling like I should be doing something else.
In fact, that seems to be a predominant force in all my hobbies: I don't like playing computer games, watching movies, reading books or playing instruments or anything unless I feel like I've had a complete amount of social interaction that day. Otherwise I'll feel like a loser in doing them-- somehow, some way.
My friends every now and then will point out that I don't have a job, that I don't have any friends outside of them (because they're all one group of people that hangs out with each other anyway, but every one of them has their own individual circles of friends as well), and stuff like that. I know they don't know my problems, nor would I want them to know, because once I tell someone about it, everything changes and they begin to treat me differently (my parents are the only ones I've told; my twin knows but doesn't mind because he has issues as well, so he doesn't judge me). I'd rather be perceived as weird than afflicted.
My roomie came back tonight from a date with a reportedly gorgeous blonde, which he said went perfectly. I listened and struggled to not feel sorry for myself, which I think I pulled off pretty well. Still kinda anxious listening to and being in the same room as him... Voice was a little unsteady, and I couldn't smile very much outside of the quick, forced grins. I'm still better than I was at Christmastime, so I feel good about that and look forward to getting even better. Anyway, he went on about all these people he's been talking to and whose lives have affected him and whose he has affected-- and went on about stories about him and his millions of friends-- he knows everybody in Lubbock from being a coffee shop worker, and gets three girls' phone numbers a week. My other roomie is a coach and Bible study leader.
What a challenge, not comparing yourself to the successes that live under the same roof as you! But I can do this, and do you know why?
Because I, who they sometimes consider to be a loser, or someone who is just a lowlife lazy bum, or a socially reclusive nerd, am not any of those things at all. What they're sometimes ribbing at and laughing at and looking down upon isn't me as a person, whether they know it or not; it's my anxiety. That's right; I am invincible underneath the shell of my disorder. My personality will never change, I will always be a people person, and I will always be good and graceful with people and social situations, whether my anxiety allows me to be or not. (Sometimes I'll be walking behind somebody on a sidewalk and will have something perfect to say to them-- I'm just too anxious to say it.) Doesn't matter what my anxiety may do to me. I'll always be there. I'll always be a guy that has a lot to offer to that special someone whom I hope to meet soon, whether my anxiety allows me to or not. I'll always be funny and goofy and happy, whether my SA allows me to feel humorous or not. Finally, I'll always be creative as well, whether my SA allows me to focus or not. It doesn't change who you are, no matter how much it feels like it does.
Therefore, what I would otherwise have considered to be an inevitable fate of perpetual inferiority to those who rock at grabbing life by the horns, is merely an illusion.
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