So, I wrote this over the summer and have been meaning to post this for a while:
For the past year or so I have taken a very typical life view: high school sucked, I was a nerd, everyone hated me, college is the best, the end.
But this summer something happened: the Internet.
I work my way through TV shows 1 or 2 at a time. Right now it's "Boy Meets World," but earlier in the summer it was "30 Rock." I've watched every single episode that was available on Netflix, duh.
And like many people, I found myself drawn to Liz Lemon. I'm not going to say that we're the same person because that definitely isn't true, but we definitely have our similarities. This was light and funny and pretty impersonal...
Until I got to the episode where Liz goes to her high school reunion, expecting to meet the popular kids with mature forgiveness for how they treated her, only to find out that she, in fact, was the school bully and somehow didn't realize it. Now, I don' think I ever made fun of someone's mom's pill addiction (watch the episode), but this came like a splash of ice cold water- was that me?
It was and it wasn't. I don't believe I was ever that mean (and if I was, I'm sorry), but I certainly was emotionally unavailable. I was a stoic who shut herself off more and more from everyone around her as the years went on. I probably had more friends than I thought I did, but I convinced myself that very few people liked me and eventually I just stopped trying. When we voted for "Senior Bests" at the end of the year, I was voted biggest brain, but was also voted second biggest ego in my senior class. It only hurt as much as it did because I knew that it was true but didn't realize that everyone else knew as well. But the thing was, and I'm pretty convinced this is true for most people with over-sized egos, I was internally very nervous and had really low self-confidence. I confused self loathing with humility and have the diary entries to prove it.
And for a long time, I chocked it up to being British, so of course I'm a stoic. I didn't grow up in Wisconsin, so of course I would never fully fit in at school. The inadequacy I felt never really needed an explanation.
But then the Internet threw more cold water in my face- this post on depression from "Hyperbole and a Half." Just as I sat staring at Tina Fey, wondering if I had been the high school bully, I sat there wondering if I had actually been struggling with depression without realizing it.
I had always thought that depression meant that you were sad all the time, and since I barely ever cried, that couldn't be it. But after reading that, I realized that depression manifests itself in lots of different ways for lots of different people. Yes, I had a great relationship with my family. Yes, I was well-fed and had a home to live in. Yes, I was a straight-A student and very involved in music and theatre. But somehow I had forgotten how to show excitement about things. My friends all assumed I didn't like hugs, but really I had just forgotten how to respond to them.
Until a couple of years ago I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without tearing myself apart and this I'm sure forced its way into how I treated others. I had forgotten how to start conversations and relate to those around me. So as a result, I could only talk about myself and only if people asked me. No wonder I felt like people were drifting away.
But, somehow, probably mostly due to new environments where I feel more comfortable, I'm a lot better now. My diary entries are now much more philosophical than self-deprecating. When I'm excited about something I show it and I'm just fine with giving and receiving hugs.
I also realized, however, that I'm not cured. After years of drawing into myself I internalize everything and am not always sure how to express what I'm feeling. So, if you feel like I don't like you, I probably do but I'm too scared and out of practice to initiate the conversation. It's sad because there are so many people I wish I knew better, but I'm still kind of at the tricycle phase of social interaction wile I sometimes feel like everyone else is whizzing past me on motorcycles.
So, this summer I challenged myself to start more conversations. Somehow I've gotten myself into the habit of not speaking unless spoken to and I've only just realized that it's in my power to change this. I only ask for your patience and to help hold me accountable.
I decided to share all of this (man, it's long- 500 points for making it to the end!) not to whine or to get attention, but as a means of trying to express what I'm feeling instead of internalizing it like I usually do. Also, I believe that the only way we can move forward is if people start sharing their stories about mental illness. Maybe if I had heard more stories when I was younger I would have realized what was going on sooner and I could have saved myself from a lot of emptiness.
I love, love, love you all. Thank you for reading this. It's much easier for me to express things in writing than face-to-face... but I guess the whole point of this is maybe we need to start having more face-to-face conversations about this as well.
