I’d like to be serious for a minute.

21Feb09

I’m rarely serious on this blog. That’s because I’d like to portray a happy, flighty side of me.

That is not real.

Most of how I act, day to day…that’s not real either.

Most interactions i have with people? Where i make idle chit chat, laugh and joke, or act like a normal person? That’s not [usually] real either.

I got tanked last night, and had to get a cab.

I’m not proud of that, actually, I’m rather ashamed. I will not discuss it again.

I’ve abused alcohol in a way that i shouldn’t. I won’t be doing that again any time soon. If ever.

Shea told me that if i continue that behavior, I should start looking for an apartment. It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise. One that I don’t take lightly, but…it wasn’t a surprise.

I understand why i drink to excess. I don’t need rehab, or a therapist to tell me. 

Shortly after I came out, my parents sent me to a shrink to make me straight. She was unaware that that was her purpose, and told me ”that won’t happen.” Unfortunately, for my parents, they had paid for two months worth of sessions.

So she had me take a lot of personality tests, and the like, and we talked.

She told me that I was, actually, one of the most self-aware people she had ever met. She was quite surprised by my ability to assesss other people, and myself. She found it odd that I could understand, and correlate, the events in my life to why i am the way i am.

I’m a firm believer in what Mead said, “who we are, our ’selves’, is not an attribute that we are born with, but one acquired over time through interaction with others.”

Also, we found out that I have Asperger’s Syndrome. (for those of you, unaware, this is a slight form of autism. Go here if you’d like a list of symptoms. Those of you that know me…well, the dots will be connected.)

I was able to prevent her from telling my parents. Shea has suspected that this is a condition that i have. I’ve never told him that I actually do, instead, choosing to act as though maybe I do…”researching” it and “concluding” that I “probably” do.

I don’t like to admit weakness.

I don’t feel things. Not immediately, anyway. Not like I’m supposed to. I’m cold and detached from that part of myself.

Examples:

• I’ve been surrounded by death, since i was little. I’ve lost many people I “love” and “care” about. I’ve never once cried at a funeral. I’ve never even been affected by the news of a death. People are born, they live, then they die. Most times, the death hasn’t come as a shock…sometimes it has. It still never phased me.
• Speaking of crying, I can’t remember the last time i did. Things don’t bother me enough to make me cry.
• I read. A lot. I have, all of my life. I was reading novels far above my level at a veryvery young age. I lived in books. They were, essentially, a manual of how to live, feel, and interact, for me.
• One that i usually hate admitting, and rarely confess, but…in my current mindset, I really don’t care: I was drugged and gang raped in highschool. I didn’t tell anybody. I went to school the next day.

Reasons:

• My parents were overbearing and controlling. Their first son didn’t turn out that well, they blamed themselves. They decided to wait seven years before having another child so that they would be better equipped, mentally, emotionally, and monetarily, to raise him (me). I was supposed to be their prodigal son: smart, funny, well equipped, talented, and successful. While I’m most of those things, coming out crushed their view of me for quite some time. This, really, is just another typical “I was never good enough” sort of thing.
• In addition, I was almost always under lock and key. This cut me off from the typical social interaction of kids and teenagers. Looking back, it didn’t really matter much anyway. While I craved social interaction and the desire to fit in…I didn’t even know how to interact with others, and wasn’t comfortable doing so. 
• I was always ostracized by my peers. As I grew up, that didn’t change much, but I taught myself how to blend in, and managed to not be so reclusive.

At some point, in my younger age, I came to realize that there was something different about me. (This isn’t a gay thing) I realized that my expressions and reactions were…off putting.

I would sit in front of the mirror for hours, practicing expressions. I’ve practiced different laughs, tones of speech, the pitch at which I speak. I had to teach myself when to sound incredulous, light hearted, angry, matter of factly, non chalant, depressed…you get the idea. I’m constantly aware of my face, and what it’s doing. I have to be.

If I had my way of things, I would rarely speak. I would, probably, be alone. I wouldn’t respond to people unless necessary. I wouldn’t explain feelings, the reasons behind my actions, or why I’m not smiling. I wouldn’t laugh or give affirmative sounds in response, choosing instead to glare, or simply look, at you.

Unfortunately, one really can’t get that far in the world with that sort of behavior.

This is why I am always monitoring myself. I have to manually create every facial expression, every sound, and every inflection.

To bring myself back to, what was orignally, the point: this is why I drink to excess.

When I drink…I feel. I don’t have to think about everything I’m doing. I don’t have to pretend, act, and lie. I catch myself responding to things naturally, and I like it.

I’m well aware that it has formed a sort of addiction. If you have actually read what i’ve written, you should be clearly able to see the allure that alcohol would have for me.

I’m tired. Incredibly tired. The amount of effort I put forth everday is weighing on me. I feel as though I have to, though. There really isn’t another option. Being myself…that causes more problems. More confrontations. Being myself would cause people to raise questions, demand explanations, and generally bother me.

I put on the mask to move freely about the world around me.

Seeking out help really isn’t an option either. There’s no magical cure. I wouldn’t really accept help anyway.

I will freely admit that I’ve abused alcohol, and that it has caused problems. I’m not going to stop drinking, altogether. I know that simply wouldn’t work. I’ve resolved, however, to not take it too far, like i’m so prone to do. As stated earlier, I am very self aware. This is, really, not going to be a difficult task. You will find that when I set a law, in my mind, I do not break it.

I have quite a bit of practice in making myself do things and follow certain patterns.

Recently, a co-worker called me an “ice prince.” I had a moment where I let my act down, and couldn’t give her the appropriate response of empathy that she was expecting. I…don’t really have empathy anyway. I know I should and I know when to express it…but I don’t really feel it.

Regardless, the nick-name bothered me. Having been told that I’m “cold” for a majority of my life…it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

But now…I find it rather fitting, and it’s sort of growing on me. I, finally, have been able to alone for a couple of hours…I’ve been able to put down my walls and facades and think.

I…I would like to do this more often. I…don’t want to have to act anymore. So…i’m going to cut it down some. I won’t get rid of the mask, entirely. As I said, I wouldn’t get very far without it. But…I sincerely plan to let some of it go.

I’m sorry that I won’t be the same [I really don't know why I'm typing this like people in my life (besides the two) will read it]…but I really am tired.

You may call me an Ice Prince, if you’d like.

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