Holiday’s Confuse Me

Ever since I was a little girl, I could remember being wildly conflicted. I liked being near people, but interacting with them was exhausting.

The strange thing is, I can talk about anything and usually get along with others easily.

But to do it all the time? Brings a great weariness to my bones.

I used to stream 6 days a week. o.o Can you imagine? I think it’s for some people, but definitely not for me. I prefer the ‘record a show and post it afterward’ format. Engaging with people just wore. me. out.

Mostly, it’s the toll it takes on your soul and then somehow being ‘ready’ to be with your loved ones afterward. They got a half version of me. And gurrrrl─ the crankiness is real.

The holidays are a special sort of pressure for someone that is used to being alone for 8-10 months out of the year. My family has never really understood that and I get razzed over it constantly.

I’m mostly just a hermit, but I do occasionally like the company of others.

Sometimes. Maybe.

Ok, let’s be real─ I would probably build an empire of bots, order everything off of amazon, and cook for myself. (I just need those damn bots to be made for companionship, I’ve got everything else covered.)

I have this odd problem of understanding people’s life issues that sometimes make me seem─ cold or distant. When someone tells me an issue, I tend to offer them a solution. I hear that is a no-no, and have learned since then to pause before answering and ask if they would prefer comfort or to just listen vs. telling them what I think is the ‘correct solution.’

That isn’t to say that I don’t understand emotions, or that I lack those sorts of feelings─ I just can’t understand why people tend to stay in situations that make them unhappy.

I didn’t understand what they all got upset over when they got dumped. I guess I’m someone that has always found a brighter side to everything. Like, “oh well, at least I get more time to myself now─ win!” I offered this explanation once and was promptly told that normal people don’t work this way. I still to this day don’t understand why it’s upsetting to not be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me─ but, I can at least offer comfort to those that it does upset.

High school was fun, y’all.

My entire life has been this viewpoint:

  1. Presented with problem─ research problem, find solution. Excellent.
  2. Presented with emotional problem─ research problem, find several solutions, offer said solutions─ receive angry person?
  3. ???
  4. shitshitshit 
  5. panic and run away
  6. lock self away for several months until everyone has forgotten about it
  7. resume normal friendship
  8. excellent.

I had the same problem understanding girls in my life. I would hear them complain about certain shoes, or hairstyles, or clothes and I would say, “just…don’t wear them?”

Holidays to me are a giant weird blob of nope. 

I have to drive hours through an area I’m not familiar with to sit and listen to a side of the family that makes me want to tear my ears out. (I go because my dad would get sad if I didn’t) I stopped participating the the gift exchange years ago because the gifts for women always included some sort of horrendous body spray/lotion set, skin paint, or smelly wax. And not the good, clean scented smelly wax that you burn after you poop─ but an odd, mysterious musky scent that all older ladies seem to slather on everything they own.

Then, there’s the endless amount of questions which inevitably lead to the fact that I had a horrible, awful childhood with nothing remotely entertaining to talk about. (unless you count my interaction with other human beings.)

I still cannot understand why handing someone a gift card or money is viewed negatively. Alternatively, I do make things for people─ but there is that still-small voice that says, ‘you know, they could just buy what they want instead of you spending time and effort making something that collects dust.’

Yet every year I’m made to be part of this horrible ritual.

Until, recently.

The last few years my family grew further and further apart. I started realizing it just last year when the tiny little social creature that lives in a locked box of my subconscious peeked out and said, “it’s time.”

Which brings me to the next part of my level of fucked-up. Now that no one wanted to meet up, it made me recognize how much I miss being a part of─ well, anyone’s life.

My brain: “I like people, they real nice”

Also my brain: “I hope half the entire planet dies in a pile of shit and fire.”

I know, right?

So, I’m always stuck between absolutely feeling lonely and 100% do not want human contact like, 80% of the time.

I guess the weird and messed up point I’m trying to amble my way over to is this:

Don’t screw up relationships with people that tend to show they care for you. Also, no matter how crazy your family makes you, they still love you and choose to be a part of your life.

And for the love of all that is good, please stop texting that ex (or anyone) you never got over. If they aren’t in your life─ they don’t care. And neither should you.

Take it from someone that focused on all the wrong people for a majority of her life.

Love yourselves.

-Grey ❤

 

 

 

 

 

Why Scary Movies Were Banned in My House

I knew I was different when I was a child. That sounds narcissistic as fuck, but it’s true.

Some years ago (when me and my mother were on speaking terms) I remember describing to her in perfect detail what my baby room looked like. Lot’s of violet and stuffed animals with gauze-y white curtains and white furniture. I remember my favorite stuffed animal was a white seal that I liked to bite on the nose. (It felt good on my gums. :3)

My mother blinked a few times and then, being the religious/superstitious woman she was, suggested that angels must have guided me out of my tiny human body into the spiritual realm, throwing me into an out-of-body experience.

aspiebaby

Whoa. Intense.

But, sadly─ my mom was wrong. Because unlike typical accounts of ‘out-of-body’, I didn’t see myself, or outside of my field of vision from the crib. (not to mention, I think it’s all a bunch of horse dung.)

To my mother’s credit, there is something unnerving about a child that not only corrects everything you say, but also tends to be extremely blunt and appears to lack feelings. This was the 90’s folks, and there was nothing more than just talks about ADD. (attention deficit disorder, now more commonly referred to as ADHD) But, alas, her daughter couldn’t have that, because mostly males were diagnosed with it at the time─ let alone any other possible issues.

And so, I was branded─ the Demon Child.

blogcomicimage

Not because I was the spawn of satan, or some- such nonsense, but because I was that man’s daughter.

As you may have guessed, my parents split. Just after I was born, in fact. My mom’s thoughts?

creationisfun

e.g.: me.

I was tirelessly and incessantly curious about everything─ especially death. When someone explained something to me, the first phrase that inevitably came out was ‘but why do we do it this way?’

I loved watching scary movies, so much that I would sneak out into the living room like a ninja behind our couch to watch ‘adults only’ films.

couch

Eventually, my mom and step-dad caught on and gave in. And so the three of us (my brother was very young then and slept in a crib) would sit on Friday nights and watch films. I’m sure my parents wanted to watch it in peace─

but I had questions.

questions

For the longest time, I would ask my parents obsessively about god, heaven, and bad guys. I would listen to the stories in church, but watch movies about the most horrible sides of humanity. My mom displayed both sides equally. So I would get a constant flood of conflicting evidence on human behavior.

And inconclusive data made me upset. Really upset. I liked control and understanding everything.

And so, my tiny villainous brain devised a scheme. Remove the control, and we have a predictable outcome where all other outcomes would cease to screw up my tireless conflicting world views.

Do any of you remember these?

wallheater

They were little 2×3 space heaters. Now hilariously illegal.

What happened to cross my mind at the moment, or what force compelled it, I’ll never know. I simply remember at the time, logic dictated that I do it.

And so, I stared at the wall heater. And it at me.

stare

wallheater

 

staredown

gasswitch

gasheaven

I wasn’t allowed to touch the heater again.

And my scary movie days? Had to return back to me becoming one with the dark ninja force. At least, until after the coast had cleared.

ninja