I am periodically reminded that other people have a vastly different way of viewing me than how I see myself. They see me as charming, witty, fun to be around, attractive, lively, political, sympathetic, and a good listening ear. I know because I’ve heard all of these things from other people, and twenty years ago, I would nod my head but cringe inside because I thought they were completely wrong. Well, not completely, but mostly. They only thought that because they didn’t live with me or even worse, because they weren’t me. They didn’t understand that what I showed them was a facade, one I’ve perfected over the years. I felt as if I were a living doll, carefully created to give the perfect response to any given situation.
Charming? I couldn’t deny that, but I saw it in a negative life. My father is an extremely charming man, and I saw how people (mostly women) flocked to him as if moths to a bright light. He could make you feel as if you’re the only person in the world, and, yet, to him, it was just a way to boost his ego, and not because he actually cared about the other person. I knew I had that in me, that ability to make someone feel as if they’re oh-so-special. I have a fantastic memory for names and details, and it was almost automatic for me to use my arsenal of knowledge to impress and dazzle other people. Because of what I saw in my childhood, I didn’t trust the charm I could effortlessly pour in any given situation. In addition, I have a psychology background, so I know people’s weak points. I struggle to keep my temper under control because I could destroy someone with a barrage of well-pointed barbs if I so choose.
Sensitive, yes, I’ll give you that, and my mother often told me I was overly so. Personally, I think it was her way of deflecting responsibility when she was insensitive to me and my needs, but that’s another post for another day. I am what some people would call an empath, which means I feel other people’s emotions as if they’re my own. The worst part is that I feel the negative emotions more strongly, so when I walk into a crowded room, I’m overcome with anger, sadness, depression, jealousy, and pain, among other strong emotions. Twenty years ago, I had no ability to block out these emotions, so going anywhere was agony. I could just look at someone and know that she’s being beaten at home or that he has lost his job and feels utterly hopeless. I could feel the positive emotions, too, but they were more muted. I remember one time my mom talked me into going to the State Fair, which is something I abhor. She actually tells the story about how when I was a baby and my brother was three or four, she’d take us to the State Fair because my brother loved it (he still does), and she couldn’t get a babysitter for me. I’d scream my head off the whole time, which is still how I feel about it today. Anyway, that time my mother convinced me to go about twenty years ago, I lasted half an hour before I had to leave because I was overwhelmed by the flood of negative emotions swirling around me.
Ten years ago, if someone were to press me, I’d rebut their opinion by listing all the things I found wrong with myself, such as my pathological avoidant personality. If I have any distasteful issue that I have to deal with, I put it off as long as I can. I often miss deadlines because I can’t bear to deal with something unpleasant, so I push it to the back of my mind or out of it completely until I absolutely have to face it. I also am very conflict avoidant, so I allow little social problems to fester until they become major social problems. I’ve lost friends and lovers because of my tendency to bottle things up inside until they explode, and when I finally say something, I say it in the worst way possible. I can think of three times when I let problems in a friendship/relationship slide until I basically exploded the friendship/relationship to bits. I don’t regret ending them, but I do regret how I did it. I could have handled the situations much better.
I’m also a fucking slob. I live in sweats, and I don’t clean the house much. I have piles of mail on the counter, and pieces of clothing strewn about the house. I could try to rationalize it by saying I have depression, and it’d be true, but it’s not the complete truth. Yes, I’m low energy, and, yes, I have a hard time even brushing my teeth sometimes, let alone clean the oven, but here’s a dirty little secret–part of it is rebellion. My mom is clean freak and a germphobe, so my slobbiness is partly in reaction to her obsession with germs. It’s also why I gave up eating fruits and vegetables for many years–she forced my brother and me to eat five a day when we were kids, often substituting fruit for dessert, which as a kid is a real bummer. I know five fruits and vegetables a day is a good thing, but it was the way she was so pushy about it. Once I was eating on my own, I childishly said to hell with fruits and vegetables! Which was rather stupid of me in hindsight because fruits and vegetables are delicious. Most of them, anyway.
Another negative aspect of my personality also stems from one that people consider a positive–my sympathetic nature and listening ear. I can hear you saying, “Minna, how can those be a negative?” They aren’t in and of itself, but only I knew that I did it because I felt I had to, rather than because I wanted to. I was my mom’s confidante when I was a teenager and she was deeply unhappy, and I was made to feel as if I were responsible for her emotions. Pair that with two cultures that believe a girl is supposed to be nice and supportive, no matter what, and it’s no wonder I felt I had to listen to anyone with a problem. In addition, I’m a sucker for the underdog, the freaks and the geeks, so my heart aches for anyone who’s lonely, broken, or depressed. The problem is because I am a good listener, I have all sorts of people telling me their sad stories, and it’s too much. It’s one thing if it’s a friend or a family member, but I have near strangers blurting out their innermost secrets to me, and I never know how to handle it properly. I’m not a therapist, and I’m not getting paid to bear their pain.
It’s another dirty secret of mine–I have an angry voice that is almost always blasting through my brain. So, even when I’m being patient and sympathetic on the outside, that voice in my head is saying, “Shut the fuck up with your whining.” “What the fuck do you expect me to do about it?” “Can you actually hear yourself right now?” I’m constantly biting my tongue from saying something snappy and/or pissy, but it’s no-holds-barred in my mind. It’s another reason I don’t like to go out much–I get caught up in these long-drawn conversations that seemingly have no end. It’s partly my fault because I ask questions when I should just smile and nod, but there’s something inside me that compels me to ask those damn questions. It’s not always my fault, though. I mean, how was I to know that asking the seemingly innocent question of, “How many days are you going on vacation” would elicit a thirty minute response about a stepdaughter who is hooked on drugs and a prior ill-fated vacation? That actually happened to me out of the blue, and it knocked me for a loop because I did not see it coming at all.
This is why I sometimes just want to lock the doors and hide out in my basement. I’m much better now than I have been in the past because I’m more able to erect mental barriers against the most negative of emotions, but it’s still tiresome at the end of a long day. I was listening to a group of (white, male) YouTubers who were talking about something gross as dudes tend to do while in groups, and someone in chat said it was too much. I didn’t see it because I don’t like Twitch chats at all, but one of the YouTubers mentioned the comment. Another one said that you should be able to block out any mental image that you don’t want to think about, and I became irrationally pissed off. This same guy has previously said boneheaded things with utmost confidence*, but this one really irked me. Not all of us have the ability to block out unpleasant things, be it images or emotions or words. My best friend took me to see Girl, Interrupted after a breakup**, and there’s a scene in which Angelina Jolie’s character methodically breaks down Daisy, brilliantly played by Brittany Murphy, in order to get money from her. That scene was bad enough, but it’s followed by a shot of Daisy hanging from the curtain rod after she hung herself. That image stayed with me for months, and even now, thinking about it gives me the chills. I know it’s a movie, and I know it’s not real, but my brain doesn’t seem able to tell the difference. Saying, “Oh, it’s just a movie” isn’t helpful.
I will say that several of my issues are better today than they were twenty years ago. My family roped me into going to the State Fair a few years ago despite my protests, and I insisted on driving my own car so I could leave whenever I wanted. I lasted two hours before I threw in the towel, but that’s four times longer than the previous time, and I didn’t leave in a sheer panic this time, either. I wasn’t nearly as overwhelmed, and I wasn’t exhausted by the time I got home. Don’t get me wrong. I was happy to get the hell out of there, but it wasn’t the horrible experience it previously had been.
In addition, I don’t get the full blast of negative emotions when I’m in a crowd, which means I’ve been able to build up a mental block to some extent. I still feel them, but it’s not to the point of me running from the room, screaming, with my hands waving in the air. I was at the grocery store today, and I tested it. I let down the wall, and the emotions came flooding in. I quickly put the wall back up, and the emotions diminished to the point where they were bearable. The thing that was most remarkable was that I hadn’t even noticed I had the wall in place. I’m sure it’s taiji that’s helped me be more able to block out the extraneous and focus on only what’s truly important.
Here’s the thing. The negative aspects of my personality are very much a part of me, but so are the positive ones. It’s not something I’m comfortable admitting, not even to myself. I’ve also realized that having mixed motivations for doing something beneficial to others is not a bad thing in and of itself. If I donate money to Planned Parenthood, for instance, in part because I want to look like a generous person, that’s OK because they get the money in the end. If I listen to someone’s woes because I want them to think of me as kind, at least I’m giving them a few minutes of my time. We all have mixed motives for most of the things we do in life, and if I were to wait until I felt purely altruistic to do something for someone else, well, then I won’t ever do a good deed again.
I’m hard on myself, and it’s only in the past few years that I’ve slowly started to realize that it’s not always for a good reason. I think it’s important to be introspective and to work on my issues, but it’s equally important to give myself a break once in a while. When I’m so hard on myself, it paralyzes me, which means I can’t work on my issues, which makes me feel even worse about myself. It’s all about perspective, and I hope one day, I’ll be even better at it.
*Seriously. If I could have the confidence of your average white dude, I would be loads ahead of where I am now.
**I do NOT recommend this, by the way. It was not a good idea.