I believe in honesty. It is important to me that I do my best to be honest about who I am, what I believe, or what I feel. While this is super important, I know that I am human, there are times when I don’t follow through.
I am not talking about the type of honesty that means telling your children there is no Santa, tooth fairy, or Easter Bunny. Those are white lies that make their lives magical. They can also come in handy when one child smacks the other and lies telling you the couch did it. *This was a real lie my 3yr old told me*
I don’t want someone to get to know me and then realize I’m crazy. I would much rather put my crazy out there and let the chips fall where they may.
It’s not just about the crazy. Sometimes it’s about beliefs or ideals.
Beliefs: I don’t know if I believe in God and I don’t care about your religion. I don’t mean that in a rude way! It’s meant to say that your religion won’t affect if we are friends. Unless you try to shove it down my throat: that shits not cool. I’m all for a good conversation or debate as long as we can both walk away in a good place. If you are generally a good person that is all that will matter to me.
Ideals: I am not racist, homophobic, or xenophobic. If you are, I don’t really want to know you. All people should be loved or be able to love. No one should be hated based on their skin color or religion. Nor should they be hated because people of their race or religion did something awful.
These are just a few things that I would be honest about within the first couple meetings of someone.
The rest is harder to be open about. The struggles with depression, general anxiety, social anxiety, a hint of paranoia, and other things sprinkled in.
What I find hard to do: be happy.
My range of emotions seem to be limited to content, depressed, or angry. The degrees of these emotions vary, though that’s normal… I think. I have come to accept that, currently, at my best I am content. It is hard to explain how I am not happy. I love my children and I guess they make me happy. Perhaps it’s just that my happy is other people’s content and my content is just exsisting. Because that’s not confusing!
Of course I strive for happy moments. Those few happy moments can be what pull a person from the edge. My main problem in this area is that it is very hard to find things that make me happy or excite me. My hair dresser use to worry that she had done something wrong because I didn’t express joy over a new cut or color. Now she knows that this is just me. I am not the woman who gets excited about her hair.
The last thing that made me so happy I wanted to squeal… seeing that my new furls crochet hooks had been delivered.
There are also moments that verge between happy and content. I try to hold onto these moments.
Music gives me more feelings. I frequently wish I could have a soundtrack playing all the time. I wish my life was a musical. I think things would greatly improve with singing and dancing.
I frequently believe that people are only being nice to my face, that the compliment (or other positive praise) they give isn’t genuine.
The best example I have is items I have crocheted for other people. Someone will tell me that they love it, it’s beautiful, or they use it all the time. I know that what I have made is great, that it’s pretty, that it’s functional. I wouldn’t sell it if it was a piece of shit. However, after the person has taken it I can’t help but think that they were just trying to be nice.
This idea that people are just trying to be nice by lying may come from when my best friend in middle school, told me that she was just pretending to be my friend because she felt bad for me.
There is an internal struggle constantly going on inside my head. Often it is hard for me to explain because it is irrational. Since it’s irrational it’s confusing.
The struggle is real.