I Pray You, Remember The Porter.

Confession: I was a really awkward adolescent.

I am not entirely sure what happened to me in my early adolescence, but I somehow decided to become "that girl" who wore her teenage brother's clothes, listened to awful music and identified more easily with young adolescent males than females. When I did finally decide that I wanted people to look at me and think "girl" .... I floundered. I went from looking like a girl dressed in boy's clothes to looking like a girl who liked girls.

As you can imagine, this did wonders on my self esteem (but, hey, adolescence does a number on everyone's self esteem). To cope, I became the "funny" friend - the cool girl friend who hung out with the guys "cuz she's like one of the guys." I managed to trade in my true thoughts in feelings for a mask of humor. It was comfortable, but had unforeseen side-effects - some of them long lasting....one of which I'd like to complain about right now: I don't think anyone takes me seriously.

Humor is great for a lot of things. It makes people like you, it makes you seem kind of witty, it's useful when you're in a large group. Humor can be used to deflect off-putting questions, or feelings you just don't want to deal with. Humor can save you from all sorts of little anxieties - which is why I relied/rely on it so heavily. It has some serious benefits.

But the price for all those benefits is that I feel like I'm a walking joke (not all the time, let's not be melodramatic...). I occasionally feel that, when I have a serious thought on something, it gets brushed off because I'm just silly. Or, when my incredibly intelligent friends begin conversing about authors, etc, I assume (yes, that evil word) that they expect that I won't know any of the books or authors they are talking about because, well, perhaps I just don't operate on the same level of intelligence as they do (...I know...what a nerdy thing to be insecure about). *disclaimer: I am fully aware that my insecurities do not accurately portray the feelings of others.

So, it leads me to this point where I feel like I want to jump out and say to everyone I know, "Hey! Surprise! I'm really super smart!" I may be awkward and uncomfortable and, sure, somewhat average in many respects - but I'm an intelligent human being! I have a large compilation of complex and well written essays on abstract or 'dry' topics that prove it. Accept me!

For some reason, I feel like this is my biggest social hurdle. I desperately want people to see that I am smart. I want them to accept me into their circle of intelligence, but I fear that my *ahem* ambivalent nature deters from the fact that I am an intellectual equal and therefore causes people to think that I am somehow simple minded. And, while I could be worrying about whether or not people see me as beautiful or talented or whatever other female insecurities are out there, this is the one that affects me most deeply.

In short, I really want people to like me for what I can truly bring to a group or a friendship - and not just the comic relief. If people would give me the chance, they'd see I'm deeper than the drunken porter or Juliet's nursemaid.

I can be a complex character in the novel of life, too.

The Dilemma

I can't help but feel it, that guilty feeling. That feeling that I'm forcing people to go out of their way to accomodate an invisible illness. I can't help but wonder, "Do people exhale a sigh of relief if I decide not to join them for dinner?" Do they feel like a burden has been lifted because they don't have to "eat like me"?

I can't help but wonder, "Do people prefer if I don't go on a trip with them?" They can pack tortillas and bread into their backpacks as they head into the mountains, not a care in the world. Crackers, beef jerky, licorice, granola bars. Do they feel guilty for packing those things if I join them?

Why?

I do not care if you pack a sandwich. I do not care if you order pizza for dinner. I do not envy your powerbar. I do not miss the tortillas. My feelings are not hurt if you eat the cinnamon roll.

I don't change my eating habits for you. Why would I expect you to change your eating habits for me?

But...I can't help but wonder:

Would my parents prefer I skip Thanksgiving, so they don't feel obligated to the the wheat-less stuffing?
Do people prefer it when I decline their invitations for dinner, because they can more fully enjoy themselves?
Is it easier if I just don't eat at all?
Do people think I'm defected?
Should I pretend to eat that cookie so people don't know?
Should I just not say anything next time?
Is it okay that I write this blog?
Who am I making uncomfortable with my dilemma?
Do people think I'm just picky?
Is it okay if I don't want to pick the restaurant because I don't want this to rule my life?
Is it okay if I just eat where you want to eat? I usually make do.
Would my friends prefer I don't bring snacks to share with the class?
Is my food really all that bad tasting?
Why are people afraid to eat their food in front of me?
Why do they apologize when they eat in front of me?

I'm not starving. I'm not drooling. I'm not even desiring: that food hurts me. I don't want it. I'm not sorry I can't eat it.
I can't help but wonder:

Whose dilemma is this? It's certainly not mine.

This Blog SHOULD Be About Mother's Day....Instead....

I am sitting on my boyfriend's couch...and I am feeling totally defeated.

I managed to hit my head hard enough on the freezer door to make myself throw up. Not to mention the dizziness when I stand, the strange pressure in my right ear, the shooting pain that visits my head and face in 20 seconds intervals...the eyes that won't completely focus, and the goose egg lump under my hair.

Freezer door: you have defeated me.

It doesn't help that I have a list of ailments pages longer than years I am old.

Un-curable blind spot in my left eye: You have defeated me.
Shoulder pain and muscle resistance that not even a physical therapist can fix: You have defeated me.
Achilles tendon that is too short: You have defeated me.
Endometriosis: You have defeated me.
Celiac Disease: You have defeated me.
Arrhythmia: You have defeated me.
Low Blood Pressure: You have defeated me.
Vitamin D that will not stay in my body: You have defeated me.
Potassium levels that are deathly low, even though I eat more potassium than a monkey in a Banana jungle: You have defeated me.
Soon-to-be-diagnosed-therefore-remaining-nameless ailments: You have defeated me.

Self esteem and self image: You have been defeated. I surrender.

On a positive note, I have a wonderful mother who I love dearly who I know loves me even if I am totally defeated and depleted.