I’ve been thinking a lot about this today, and I think this will be the one and only time I ever post something like this. I don’t even know if I’ll keep it posted, but I think, for my own sense of self-esteem, I need to get it out. And I’m a writer, which means I’m going to write it all down. If you don’t want to know me REALLY well or are otherwise bored/annoyed by personal posts, feel free to skip this one.
Also, please don’t be offended if I don’t respond much to comments (if there will be any). Just assume that I don’t really know how to respond, because that’s probably true.
If you think you’re in love with me, or could be, here are some things you should know. Hey, giving you a heads-up only seems fair.
I’m clumsy. I walk into walls and bang my shins and thighs all the time on stuff. I took dancing lessons from the time I was 2 or 3 until I was about 12 or 13. I’m still a clutz. It’s worse when I don’t have my contacts in. I’m left-handed, so that might be part of it.
I’m not a morning person. I would like to be, but I’m not. I have to plan days in advance to do morning-person stuff. But I can work much later than others, because my productivity span is just shifted slightly, time-wise.
I have anxiety and chronic depression. I manage both with medication, diet, exercise, and the lessons on rewiring my thinking that I learned in therapy. I think I do pretty well nowadays with it. I try to do something productive and/or fun every day, so that every day feels like a gift. But sometimes, I just need to go off and be sad until it passes.
I have really bad insomnia. I also have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Which means I can’t sleep at night because my mind’s too busy elsewhere, but I often need at least a little nap sometime during the day. I can take medication for the latter, but no one seems to know how to deal with the former. Ditto the fact that sometimes I have terrible nightmares, and they color my whole day.
I am truly clueless about and utterly disinterested in current events and politics. I will do my best to learn and interact with you regarding your interests, even if I don’t like them, but as far as celebrity news/current events/politics/reality TV or that show Jackass, you are totally on your own.
I have some kind of Sensory Processing Disorder (Sensory Modulation, I think) or Tactile Sensory Disorder (I’m not sure which, although I think they’re similar) where I have extreme sensitivity (both mental and physical) to certain tactile experiences, primarily the feel of certain textures of fabrics, stiff, new, itchy, rough, or stained/dirty fabrics, seams and tags, etc. I have to bring my own blanket and sometimes, even my own pillow to hotels.
I don’t drink. There’s a reason for that. Several, actually. I can’t, so I don’t. Problem solved. But I do miss having a glass of wine sometimes.
I’m flaky when stressed – I forget things like names, places, and events (long-term memory recall stuff) if I’m stressed out or nervous. I’m not great with money, because when I have it, I want to give it to people who need it or spend it on people I care about. I’m working on at least staying on top of bills and balancing my checkbook. I have trouble telling people when they’ve hurt me or made me angry, which makes me seem like I’m brooding or building an ice wall. I used to do just that, but I don’t now. I do know the difference. What I’m doing is processing so that I can communicate, so that I can respond instead of react. But it does take me longer than some to truly understand what I need to say.
I’m an Italian who grew up in a house of 7+ people plus whoever was coming over for dinner, going in and out the door, etc. I value quiet and solitude, but I am used to functioning in chaos. I have an issue with being shushed. I have mild authority issues. I hate being talked down to; it makes me snarky. If I’m with you, I have no tolerance for being made to feel like I need to compete with anyone (other than your kids). I don’t, and I won’t. I have abandonment issues that manifest themselves in quirky ways. I recognize them, and have come to terms with the idea that the only person you can ever count on not leaving you is you. That’s life.
I see the world not just in shades of gray, but in colors. Some people love this about me. Some people seem angered that I can’t pigeonhole the world into black and white cages.
But you know what? I accept all these things about me. Life is about experiences, and about bettering yourself every single day. Anyone who loves me will need to accept those things about me, too. Because there are a hell of a lot of good things about me that come with the package — and I flatter myself to think those good qualities outweigh the bad. If you’re ever in a position where I love you, I mean really, truly love you, I think you’ll see what I mean.
I could list all the things I think would make me a great partner/girlfriend/wife/friend with benefits, but frankly, I’ve reached a point where people either know those things about me, or have to earn knowing them. I pointed out all my flaws (at least so far as I can identify them) because it’s important that any partner/employer/friend knows these things don’t make me a bad person, they don’t make me defective or ineffective, nor do they make me any less a mother, writer, daughter, sister, worker, or friend.
More importantly, I think it’s important that *I* know that. That I remember that. And any time I’m inclined to forget, maybe I can look back on this post and remind myself. No one can love me if I can’t love myself, right?
I’m not perfect. I don’t need to be. I’m working on those things I don’t like about me, and working on maintaining the progress I’ve made in other areas. I’m a work in progress, and a pretty good one at that, if I do say so myself. No one changes overnight; that’s what you have a life for.
And if you still love me after all this, then thank you. It means a lot. We weren’t meant to travel life utterly alone, and I’m glad to have you along for the ride.