double-vision

To be misunderstood.

 

How long do you call it ‘misunderstood’, before you start calling it ‘reality’?

 

How long does it take for you to turn, “people misunderstand me. I’m always misunderstood” into, “people must see me how I really am. I’m the one who’s got me worked out wrong”.

 

I’d really like to know, because the only thing that holds me back from adjusting the focus is my rage, and the fear that if I embrace everyone else’s misunderstandings of me as reality, I’ll slip into a deeper, darker, den of despair – a padded den, in which I can more easily, quietly, slowly, beat myself up.

 

Does everyone have an aspect of themselves they think they’ve got worked out, only to have everyone else think the opposite? Even random things, like humour, or level of compassion, or body image? Or is it just me?

 

I’m always wary of people who think I’m this fantastically wonderful person, or great at something in particular, because I don’t see myself that way, or at least at their level of wonderfulness. It’s not an act of self-deprecation, I just honestly don’t think most of my every day actions warrant what others think of me.

 

It puzzles me.

 

It also works the other way – if people see certain actions as awful, or slutty, or immature, or just plain wrong, but in my head I know I’m not doing anything wrong, I just don’t get it.

 

The difference is, when people think better of me than I think of myself, I’m confused, but I try and take their word for it. I don’t think I’ve deserved even half the praise received while I’ve been on this earth, but I try and graciously accept it.

 

However, when I’m thought of worse than I think of myself, I do one of two things: up the hackles and bring the rage, or more commonly, doubt myself until I’m a shaky mess rocking in the corner.

 

I’m sick of people making me doubt myself. I don’t know how to stop it, except for rage and indignation – and they’re not much fun to have as house guests. They’re always tearing the place apart and doubling my electricity bill. When they finally leave, it takes a lot for me to put the house back together.

 

But the alternative – doubt, is like an infestation of termites, eating away at the foundations until my house collapses (Ok I think I’m over this analogy now).

 

Anger, or depression.

 

There has to be

a door number three

-world, please?