Today’s post is going to be quite different, one that was not inspired by a curious observation or quirk of the day. No, today I’m going to descend into the dark abyss of my own depression. It was because of a rather mundane event, I had been rejected by a girl I was attracted to.
I’m certain I had written about this before. This sort of thing happens all the time, and doesn’t feel good for anyone. But it packs a certain emotional punch that is not entirely clear when viewed on the surface.
I have developed a reflexive mechanism that basically tells me, “Carry on, soldier” when this sort of thing happens. But in this instance, I realized that it wasn’t going to work anymore.
I instead adopted a different approach. I would let all of the sadness, the fear, and the frustration in. Let it wash over me, as I vowed not to move from this very spot until all had been written.
Instead of offering rebuffs to it, I would only ask “Why?” I would only ask a reason, and hear what was said back.
A Grievous Error
The girl in question was a member of my D and D campaign. A quiet type, kept largely to herself for the most part at the beginning. As the game progressed in late fall, I began to notice a few gestures that seemed to indicate attraction. Things like setting next to me, compliments, and so on.
As I got to know her, the more I enjoyed the time I spent with her. I always loved seeing the origami she made. She even gave me a snowflake which I keep by the bedside, since otherwise it will be swallowed by the room. To prove myself the ultimate dork, I added the diminutive “-chan” honorific to her name, one used to indicate affection (also used for children).
She was also very sharp and had a keen wit. I appreciated that, and she seemed to enjoy spending time with me. I guess it’s harder for me to know if that’s true or not.
Because I ran with the notion that she was crushing on me, I kind of just stepped back and thought “Yeah, let’s see where this goes.” When I ran up the courage to finally ask, I was turned down.
Sometimes being turned down hurts less than others. When the hormones give you time to breathe, you realize that perhaps it was for the best. That usually turns out to be the case. Usually.
But I suppose that this felt especially bad for me because, much like my friend Kat before her, I had been very deliberate. I had specifically found aspects of them that I thought were great matches with mine.
But I failed once gain, as I always seem to do.
Core of My Being
I hold a number of irrational beliefs in my head. One of the things that creeps into my mind is the thought, “Maybe I’m just undateable.” Perhaps through a combination of my condition of being on the spectrum, my tragic backstory, or perhaps just failures as a basic human being I was going to be spending the rest of my life single.
Not only that, but this ending of my tale was just and proper. I deserve to live the rest of my life alone. I deserve to be hated. In fact, I don’t deserve to be loved by anyone. Who would put up with someone like me? Who would bother with all the pain I caused them?
When you are told a consistent narrative about yourself, no matter how far removed from reality, that narrative seeps into your own view on who you are. The narrative I learned was that I wasn’t good enough because I was different, that I wasn’t supposed to talk back or stand up for myself, that I was powerless.
When I try to push beyond the boundaries of the cage I was placed within, it becomes all the more frustrating when I find I cannot. In a way, I suppose that’s part of what a relationship seems like to me.
I don’t believe it’s possible for me to engage in a successful relationship. Part of me wonders why I even bother.
Perhaps it’s basic instinct. A desire to be loved, for intimacy of both emotional and sexual kinds. I like to think it’s more than that though, and it has to do more with the fact that the only way I win is to be proven wrong. I suppose people don’t often hope they’re wrong, but I certainly do.
From what little bits of relationships I’ve held, I found them to be valuable. Being able to wake up with someone next to you has a certain warmth to it. Feeling a deep connection, an understanding, these are all great things.
This is why I find the cynical approach baffling. But what do I know, really? I seem to be in the minority on this, or at least it’s easy to get that conclusion.
Kudzu Life
I’d like to say I’ve learned something from all this, but in reality it just raises bigger questions and leaves a lot of things unanswered.
It leads to a question of “What do I really believe? What do I truly think?” which itself implicitly asks “Who am I?” Though the one thing that manages to shake me is how despite me making any and all efforts to praise rationality, thought, and reason; the very self-structure that informs the core of my being is entirely irrational and not at all consistent with reality by any stretch of the imagination.
This then leads of course to the two obvious questions. The first one is “Where did this all begin?”, a question that I have to answer before I can even begin to address the next one, “When Will It All End?”, as I call it “W.W.I.A.E”.
The way I dealt with a lot of my adolescence is that I repressed most of it, remembering only in broad strokes. Only recently have I had the clout and motivation to even think about it. Not only that, but all of this was interpreted with the mistaken belief that everything that happened was deserved.
I wonder what kind of difference would have been made if someone just came up to me and said, “You didn’t deserve any of this. None of this was your fault.” What if someone else acknowledged the events that were beyond my control?
Maybe, just maybe, I’m trying to have everything make sense again.
