It won’t surprise anyone to know I’m a introvert. I’m one of those really annoying types who wants to have loads of friends and feel involved but the second someone takes pity on me and tries to include me in anything I shy away from it because its too much.
I hate going outside, I hate having to communicate with people and I hate remembering that there is a world outside of the fantasy ones I create in my head.
With all my many problems both socially and just in general, if you come across these blogs and read about me you might think I’d be a easy introvert to pick out of a crowd. Yet the one thing I hear ALL the time is that people just don’t believe I’m a introvert.
Its bloody annoying too!
To understand I guess I have to give you a bit about my mindset.
I come from a poor family and had a abusive dad. I think I started to become introverted after going to secondary school for many reasons. One being that we never had the money to buy nice clothes so we had cheap clothes, it didn’t bother me and my sisters because its just clothes but you know what kids can be like. Also unfortunately for me my interests became a problem too, no one likes a girl that just wants to talk about wrestling, computer games, anime and F1 all the time. When I did make friends they tended to be people who had no problem spending a hour with me every weekday but would struggle to spend more time with me on weekends too.
It became real bad when I hit those wonderful years of 15 and 16 when everyone had stories to tell about their weekends and what they were doing and to hide the fact that I probably spent the majority of the weekend in bed in tears after my dad had been particularly nasty to me or up all night watching wrestling and playing video games I started to create a fantasy world that absolutely no one believed but they let me make up because to be honest… None of them cared about me.
16 was about the time in my life that teachers became brutally honest with me. I was not going to do anything with my life.
At this point I knew nothing about depression or anxiety because when we were at school it wasn’t something everyone talked about. There wasn’t Tumblr or Twitter that had the voices of millions trying to explain why you feel the way you did. I only left school about 11/12 years ago but honestly if you preferred to be at home on the internet, watching TV and doing nothing you were weird. Teachers didn’t care, it didn’t matter I was a good student they just knew I probably would end up like my dad. On benefits sitting at home.
Couldn’t blame them for that point of view either as I hated talking to people and that turned into a fear of talking to people and then the realisation that I didn’t make sense when I talked anyway so any conversation I had turned into me trying not to talk at all. Mock interviews went badly, me trying to explain what I wanted to do after school went badly and work experience was horrible as I found it easy to talk to the kids at the school I volunteered at but not the adults which led to the teacher I was working under basically insinuating I was below average intelligence which made my teachers laugh as they knew I was above average.
When I first starting working at the British Heart Foundation at 20 I was told by Connections or whatever they were called that I was unemployable which made me extra determined that I would not end up like my dad and would get a job.
I’ve been employed now ever since with only a month gap between walking out of the BHF and finding my new job.
My life hasn’t particularly changed much. I still hate being alive, I hate myself and everything about my life. I’m constantly told that people don’t believe that I have depression or anxiety though after getting to know me, in fact someone I was working with the other day was going on about how well I get on with everyone.
Its a act though.
It took a long time to be able to hide how I feel but I did it.
I was working so hard on having something resembling a normal life and as far away as the life my dad was living that I just forced myself to do what I had to do to get that. When I was a kid I lied about my life to make myself sound interesting and this was just a part of it, I created a character so that I could survive outside of my bubble.
Starting my new job I promised myself that I’d just be honest. My main problem is when I’m nervous I talk a lot, my brain doesn’t process what I’m saying I just talk. I knew that I’d end up talking about myself so promised to make sure I would admit to my problems right from the start. People were shocked to hear me say that I suffer from anything which just proved how good I am at hiding my weaknesses from the world.
But it hurts.
It hurts because mental illness is already something that is invisible and people struggle with silently. To then be told that you are able to hide it so well people can’t believe that you are what you are reminds you that you have to live your life constantly pretending to be something else. Or at least I do. I can’t break down those walls because behind the inane babbling character that I project to the world there is nothing.
I can write about who I am, I can write about things I care about but if someone tried to get close to me now I’m pretty sure there isn’t a person inside me able to communicate to another human anymore. I’m not sure there is someone who would have the patience, or indeed that I even deserve someone with that patience, to break through 16 years of hiding myself from the world.
At this point I guess I want to make sure that you know that I don’t think people say this to be mean. In fact I know that they say it as a positive. People want you to know that as far as they are concerned you come over as being normal and therefore have overcome something that everyone now knows is a horrible thing to have to deal with.
This blog is more of a rambling because obviously to me its just proof that I’ve fooled everyone into believing a lie.
I’m good at lying to people about who I am. I’m good at pretending to be a person when in fact I’m a hollow shell. People say embrace that character then and live that life but its like a character you create in a game, you live their life in the confines of the game and give them the life that you want them to have but it never is or ever will be your life. I don’t really know what the real me wants anymore then I honestly know who I am anymore.
Again I’ll point out before anyone says anything about it but I’m not too sure whether I’m happy or sad about the above. I’m not writing this as a way to gather sympathy but just as a random thought like most of the diary posts in this format and the one before tend to be. I’m happy to be alone, I’m happy to stay indoors away from people and I wouldn’t know how to create a bond with someone if I tried. At the same time I crave having friends and a meaningful relationship with someone. I’ve come to terms it won’t happen and just kinda get on with my life.
I saw the post on Tumblr “Introvert Problem #76 : People sometimes mistake you for a extrovert because you can be so outgoing” and it just spurred me to write about this on a tangent that doesn’t really follow, I’m a chatterbox because my brain doesn’t engage and I’ll talk a lot hoping people will like me even though I’m not sure what I’m saying, I have no extrovert tendencies whatsoever.
Is there a point to this? Probably not but I guess it doesn’t stop being helpful to remind the world that mental illness can be a very invisible disability. What you can see on the outside can be the biggest lie you’ll ever see. Its sad to think that there are so many people who aren’t comfortable to even say “I have depression/anxiety” and who hide not just that but the fact they are living as a character whilst being so empty in reality.