I have learned recently that I may not know everything. I know this is as big of a shock to you as it was to me. I can't believe it, either. But here we are.
I am an incredibly perceptive person who is very used to seeing things that other people might not know that they are showing to me. I am a very good people-reader. I believe I have an incredible grasp on the inner workings of most humans, and as a result, believe that I know everything you're going to do before you do it and respond accordingly. I spend an INCREDIBLE amount of time assuming I know what someone is going to do and using that to plan my response. I try to control everything this way, to keep myself safe. So I know what's coming. To never be surprised.
The last time I remember being surprised was when I woke up at my then-boyfriends house to another friend gently shaking me and telling me that my parents were desperately trying to get a hold of me. I felt a lightning bolt of fear strike through my gut. I knew it wasn't good. This was the first time my parents had tried to contact me since our big fight. My mom told me she wasn't sure if she wanted me to be a part of our family anymore, because they couldn't trust anything I said. Because I was a liar. Even then, I was trying to manipulate the narrative. Trying to control.
I assumed the day had finally come when they were going to take everything from me. I was a spoiled child- my parents paid for everything. My day of reckoning was upon me. Just as I suspected, just as I predicted, they were here for my Ford Explorer. My cell phone. They wouldn't support me any more. I knew this day was coming. With a deep pang of guilt and shame roiling in my gut, I got up and rushed over to meet them at my apartment. They were frustratingly vague over the phone before I got there. My mom called me "sweetie", which she never does. They were being so gentle with me. They just wanted to soften the blow, I thought. This turned out to be true, but the blow came from a direction I wasn't anticipating. I couldn't put my hands up to block. I didn't see it coming, and it knocked me sideways and off of my feet.
My aunt was dead. She had killed herself- shot herself while she was drunk with the person she loved on the other side of the door, trying desperately to get in. My aunt, who was the "me" in her nuclear family. The black sheep, the outsider, the flake, so compassionate that she was always hurting, so funny that you couldn't tell that she was always hurting, my aunt. I had been corresponding with her throughout the latest ordeal with my family. She had a friend who worked at a bank who would help me set up my finances. She would help me apply for a loan to finish paying for college. She had stopped responding a few days prior. I assumed that she had flaked out on me again. I was used to it- she rarely showed up to my birthdays. I knew she wanted to, but I didn't understand then why she wouldn't show up for me. Didn't she know that she was the "me" in her nuclear family? Didn't she know that she was me? Families are complicated. Getting kicked out of her family for being a lesbian was a wound that never healed for her. I didn't know that then. Abandonment was a wound that always festered in her, until one day it became a bullet.
That was the last time I felt surprised.
My parents took me home to be with the rest of the family. I remember my grandpa passing out his typed multi-paged thesis on why my aunt was a lesbian at her wake. Something about my grandma taking Tylenol during the pregnancy. Everything he viewed as wrong in his life, he found a way to blame on her. He's dead now. I often wonder why that was, what deep pain he couldn't bear to sit with that he had to keep pushing it off on to her. I guess I'll probably never know. What a theme.
Anyway.
I assumed I was over all of this. It was a decade ago (I say it that way to make it sound even longer ago than 10 years). My therapist assures me that I am not. Another thing I didn't know. I guess I'm pretty shite at knowing everything. Yet another thing I didn't know.
All of this control, these predictions- reading body language and vocal fluctuations to come up with some semblance of an idea of what to expect next...it's made me insane. It's paralyzing. I don't respond to text messages sometimes, because I can't figure out how to respond in a way that will steer the conversation in the way I want it to go. I can't figure out when we should stop the conversation. I can't figure out how to not be offended when they decide to stop the conversation, no matter how passing and insignificant the acquaintance. I want to put the burden down. I want to say what I think. I want to even KNOW what I think. I have spent every minute of every day trying to manipulate to keep myself safe, to keep one step ahead of the game, to steer the ship in the direction I think is safest. I almost typed, "to steer the ship in the direction I want it to go in", but that would be a lie. When I'm asked what I enjoy doing with my free time, I don't even know the answer. To pretend like I know the direction I want the ship to go in is laughable. I don't know what I really think about anything. I just know what I should think about everything that will keep me safe. I want to remember what I know, again. I want to be true, again. And I think that starts with the ability to trust myself in a free fall. To trust that I can handle anything that comes my way, without the need for preparation. I am like the 30 year old suburban mom version of a doomsday prepper. Always trying to be two moves ahead. But I don't want to be ahead any more. It's exhausting, and to my never ending surprise, I am not always correct. It's a waste of energy.
This anxiety that's in me, I wish I knew where it comes from. Some part of me thinks it's just biological. I developed a theory a long time ago, watching neurotic elephants sway in a zoo. They were swaying to help alleviate their distress. They were distressed because their lives had become so unnatural. The brains they developed to solve complex problems to help assure their survival were suddenly no longer needed. Colloquially (my favorite word), they started "spinning out". All of these firing synapses with nowhere to go. Humans seem similar, to me. Our lives are much easier to navigate now. Most of us will never have to truly be concerned about where our next meal will come from. We can meander comfortably through life. But our brains won't turn off, won't let us relax, won't let us believe that we are safe. We spin out. I spin out. We develop neuroses...swaying like elephants in a zoo. Drinking. Smoking. Self-harm. Eating. Spinning out can look like a million different things. I wish I knew how to stop spinning.
Anyway, this post is long enough. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.
