Neurotic Owl

flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread

Neurotic Owlphabet, part 11.

noU

 

He borrowed the compact from Manic Pixie Otter.  Obviously an owl would never own a leopard print compact.  That would just be silly.

noVSo different people react to things differently. When I’m upset, I want to be left alone to calm down.  Seriously, trying to get me to talk about it or comfort me will only make it worse, but a little time on my own to calm down and I’ll generally be back to ‘normal’ soon enough.

This seems to be an affront to certain people — one of my biggest ongoing issues with a friend in grad school was that she wants to talk to you and pat you on the back and give you a hug when you’re upset, and I want to go hide in the bathroom and not have anyone fucking touch me.  Those two aims are at odds, obviously.  Also, the time when I have to explain that to people?  Usually the time when I’m already crying, so not really capable of a calm discussion about whyyyyyyyyy I can’t let my friends help me.

It makes me a jerk sometimes too – since I desperately want to be left alone when I’m upset, that tends to be my first impulse when someone else is; that, or the awkward long-arm shoulder pat.  I need to stop trwating others the way I want to be treated, since most people seem to fall into the ‘rally round and hug me’ camp, and it makes it seem like I don’t care.  Just for the record, if you had a terrible life event and then wondered why I didn’t call?  I thought I was giving you space.  I’m sorry.

One last thing — sometimes I burst into tears for stupid reasons.  Sometimes I’ve forgotten to eat, which leads to the chain of bitchy, weepy, feed me or I pass out; sometimes I’m just physically exhausted.  The way I tend to describe it is that when I get too tired my tear ducts get tired too and just decide to let it roll.  I guarantee that, no matter how embarrassing it is for you, it is infinitely worse for me.  Just let me go hide in the bathroom/eat something/sleep, and then let us never speak of it again.  That same grad school friend seemed to think that my not-infrequent weepiness was me wanting attention.  You might think that too.  You would be wrong.

 

 

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This entry was posted on June 16, 2013 by and tagged , , , , , .
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