Writhing Contradiction

I have become my own worst enemy. I contradict myself at every turn, deciding and acting one day and questioning and chastising myself the next.

I have values, but when I assert them, become aggressive, I find the contradiction. The two, aggressive and passive, constantly push against each other. Never touching bet always fending each other off.

I know I am passionate, but I hate interacting with people, which is also at odds with how I want friends. I know there are people who are repulsed by how I voice my opinion, even my 'friends.' It saddens me, but I have tried playing the game and being positive, and it doesn't work.

So, I have two choices: Driving people away and being sad every once in awhile not having any friends or not being myself and having friends, all the while crawling in my skin.

Under my skin: A short summary of an anomaly.

I am not the social butterfly I envisioned I would be in a town this size. I tell myself that I don't want to be around people. For the most part, that is true, but there is the conflicting feeling of jealousy over what other people have, or what I perceive them to have. I picture people calling each other on the phone or hopping over or dropping in, to talk about something weird that happened, to remind them of a meeting at the school, or to invite them to the party they're throwing together that day.

When you get right down to it, I could care less what people think. Sure there's that initial sting and occasional bad taste, but for the most part, I am able to cut people off with such precision. If I am done with someone, I barely recognize them if I see them in public. Being so good at that has not only caused many burnt bridges, but it has also left a persistent lack of trust in others, an assumption that others fail me.

I have had social misstep after social misstep. I have been this way my whole life. When communication breaks down, embarrassment leads to avoidance. I always seem to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. I am all too accustomed with the taste of my foot.

That's why I write.


We have a dirty and smelly house. Busy? Sure. High ratio of people to space? Definitely. Too much shit? Yup. Self-esteem, anxiety, depression and medication issues? Yes, uh-huh, affirmative, and that's a big 10-4.

I don't drink,  I don't like sports, and I don't like dropping in to people's places. I wrote a blog that covered the bullshit in my local government, which, I believe, paints me as a negative person and has ostracized me from many. That blog is the one thing that has changed me in both good and bad ways.

The good: I have met some great people (to whom this post is dedicated). I write more.  Who am I kidding...I actually write. Before the blog, I wrote the occasional human interest or city council piece, but I never wrote for myself. Now, I write and work for me. I have this blog, I write short stories and I also volunteer at the library by writing their quarterly newspaper. I have recently completed a research project for a neighboring town.

The bad: But the blog soured me toward people. I poured my heart and soul into that thing (Riverside's government, specifically) and I wrongly expected my readers to do the same. I received hateful messages and snideful comments, and been removed from a city Board. I drew the ire of 'important' people in this town and I don't have a lot to show for it. All that has left me bitter.

I've been cut off from my immediate world for awhile, from people I care about. Been sorting through my life, getting my shit together, etc.

I'm here. I'm fine.