I don't know who I am even.
Just so you know where my head's at.
I wrote a blog after a panic attack, half hour before I had to go in for work. It made no sense, so now, as I sit here after a slow night at work, with a vanilla candle burning, logically deleting the previous post. My brain is a weird pit. I appreciate those who take the time to visit it.
Something recently happened that has turned me into a bit of a silly minded nut-job. This something actually has nothing to do with me. Though I've been within the proximity of it. I'll try my best to describe it while holding onto the privacy of those who need not be brought into it. It's shaken my core and made me start to question everything. The media version of a person versus what happens behind the scenes really jolts my brain. I'm so afraid of being too many people that I lose myself.
I think we all, as humans, put on masks, or hats, or whatever visual is most pleasing to you, in order to fit in different places. The way you act with your lover, is different than your boss... unless of course your boss is your lover and you're into that kink. I won't yuck your yum. For me I am constantly reminded how great I am, by so many people I respect and adore, yet I try and find the cracks in their theory. Where the truth is that I'm just THAT good of an actor I've fooled everyone, even myself, into this idea that I'm good.
I'm watching chaos unfold in someone's life who has no connection to me in any real way. Chaos that was a long time coming and part of me felt relief that they finally got theirs. But then I stop and realize that there's another story. The story they tell themselves. To come to terms with why they've done these actions. They wholeheartedly believe that the wrongs they did had more reason that just action. This shakes me because what if that's me. What if the wrongs in my life, that have caused those I love pain, are actually my real character. Or the story I tell myself is that they didn't see what I was doing, and refused to listen to my reasoning. Just like the person I'm shaken by right now. I don't know what's real.
Being gas-lit is probably my kryptonite. Along with someone not responding to a text message. Even though I walk around all confident and with a large heart on my sleeve, being told that everything I thought was right is actually wrong makes me spiral, hard. I've always been one for hard facts. It's why I like to communicate about EVERYTHING, because if it was said then at least I can hold onto that it was once said (keeping in mind that everyone is welcome to change their mind, of course, but to know they HAD once said it, is harder evidence than just being like 'oh I thought you thought this...'). I start to feel like I'm floating away. Like everything I'm doing, the things I'm actually passionate about, the people I'm spending time with, are just an elaborate trick. It's psychotic, sure. I need to be validated by those I trust that I exist, because I don't know how else to escape this suffocation.
All I am thinking of is certain people, who have chosen to cut me out, reading this and being like: "Oh, that's just like Holly, blaming everything on someone else, never taking responsibility for anything, and stringing people into feeling pity for her". I don't think I do that. I really don't. But what could the reason be for those people who've made that decision to cut me out, except that I am poison and must be sucked out. It hurts me so much to know that I've hurt someone. A misunderstanding can be talked through, laughed at even, but to claim that I'm purposely trying to cause pain to someone I care about makes me so confused. I would never discredit their feelings. If that's what they actually feel... well... then I have to have done something. So everything that I thought made sense no longer does.
Then the concrete things in my life start to crumble. The people who have never shown me any semblance of leaving start to dissipate, the career that I've been working on for seven years since graduating seems so false, the idea that my future has nothing in it, is so present. People with life goals stress me out. I've never been a life goal person, mostly because I don't like disappointment, but also because I don't think I'm good enough to achieve anything great. My only goal is to live my life in a way that hopefully improves those people that I get the pleasure to be around and cause no hurt. I can't even achieve that... so why would getting hired in a writers room to share the voice of someone who I think needs to be heard, ever happen. I can't even achieve the simple. Though I guess when your goal is based on how other people are going to react, and since we have no control over the actions of others, it's all made to fall apart. I've made myself to fall apart.
I don't think I'm terrible. When I'm depressed, and have panic attacks, I mostly just hate myself because I'm so aware of the amazing people in my life who love me, and how DARE I be depressed when I'm blessed to have friends like that. I guess I'm just trying my best to work towards being better. But I'm so afraid that the person people see, is not the actual person that I am. How do I even find that out.
A friend said to me the other day "I don't think I've ever met anyone who'd say 'I just don't like Holly'". But with that I deliver a list. A list of names of people who would rather never see my face again, because I've done something... mostly of which I don't know. No one is everyone's cup of tea. Sure, mine is Earl Grey, but when you want something to calm you down and put you to sleep, it ain't gonna be me, baby.