Public Service Announcement
I don't even know how to say this without sounding like a total wanker, but I've come to a point in my life where I can't possibly take other people's shit any longer. I can't maintain friendships where the other person is a complete mess, and even if that makes me feel like a monster, I can't hang onto something that's constantly triggering me and dragging me down. Please understand this. You need someone to talk to. I understand that. And you should have that, because what you're dealing with is awful. Yet it should be a trained professional or someone who can actually bear that load. I can't bear that load; I've got enough shit of my own to deal with, and I have zero tolerance for anyone trying to shame me for that. I spent far too much of my life befriending people who were going from one crisis to another, but the moment I moved on and reduced my association with those people (difficult, as most nerds are angsty as fuck), my own mental health started to improve. Because now I could focus on something else apart from 24/7 anxiety and pain. I get hurt and triggered way too easily and certain things absolutely destroy me, way beyond what usually upsets people. I'm the worst possible person to dump your shit onto; I'm sorry. You don't need a friend like that anyway if she's just going to be a really fucking upset mess to the point where she turns into a hissing and shrieking psycho. And I know exactly what sorts of interactions and topics turn me into one, and you know what? I'm not going to sit there and let myself be a victim to that. I'm not going to assume I'm a shrieking super-triggered PTSDd psycho bitch forever. I have the power to do something about that. Therefore, because I have some fucking self-respect left, I step the hell away from those situations and those people. Because it's for the best. I function better that way, and when I function better, I bring more good stuff into the world in the form of cracky humour and porn.
But I'm not going to be able to do that if you come and constantly drag me down into your own personal hell. I'm not that person. It's not that I'm not compassionate--on the contrary, I feel like I'm hyper-empathic what with the way many seemingly simple things really upset the living fucking shit out of me. Therefore, I absolutely can't be dealing with people who are in crises all the time and am much better with more well-adjusted people. And in no way is this me harshing people who are in crises all the time and are depressed and neurologically wonky and have endless sexuality/gender crises or whatnot, because I've been there and done that. But I've also realised that you will never, ever be able to claw your way out of depression if you don't set hard limits and step away from the situations that are going to harm your mental health. I'd much rather spend all my days alone hanging out with fictional characters who made me happy than spend even ten seconds with a person who repeatedly keeps dumping horrors upon me. And again, it's not that I don't have empathy; it's because I'll become just as miserable as you and that's not going to help anyone. It'll just increase the amount of misery in the world. I'll gladly be there for my friends but it's only those few friends whose worries don't actively fucking destroy me on the inside. There's a certain limit that I am not willing to go over any more when it comes to empathising and generally offering cuddles. I can do it and those of you with whom I'm close know that I can be as cuddly and as kind as hell, but once the angst load starts to turn me into the opposite--that psycho bitch from hell--I fail to see how that can help anyone. So unless you think of me as just some dumpster instead of a stupidly easily hurt person, please seek help from those who are better equipped to give it.
This post brought to you by two and a half people in the recent past trying to re-initiate friendships by constantly wangsting at me, and me realising I'm so fucking over that stage in my life. I'm glad those people are no longer a daily part of my life. Yes, I'm a horrible, evil person for not bending over backwards to carry their wangst, I know. But I'm no longer willing to sacrifice my happiness or my sanity for anyone. Life is far, far too short and precious for that--maybe all the health problems and near-death experiences in my past five years have taught me that. And I'm damned if I'm going to waste it on people who actively poison me with their own shit, whether they realise they're doing it or not. I've moved on. And let me tell you, relative sanity and happiness--even if I might end up completely friendless in the end--are absolutely worth it. I heartily recommend that whole Buddhist idea of mindfulness in that you constantly ask yourself this question: "Is me saying/doing this going to increase happiness in the world?" and if it isn't, it's not worth doing/saying. No matter how shit you feel. I'm not perfect about that because I still grumble and angst at times, but at least asking that question of yourself, whenever you can, does work wonders. I'm not a saint, but at least I'm making a fucking effort. Happiness is hard work, but it's preferable to utter misery. And I'm so, so done with misery.
But I'm not going to be able to do that if you come and constantly drag me down into your own personal hell. I'm not that person. It's not that I'm not compassionate--on the contrary, I feel like I'm hyper-empathic what with the way many seemingly simple things really upset the living fucking shit out of me. Therefore, I absolutely can't be dealing with people who are in crises all the time and am much better with more well-adjusted people. And in no way is this me harshing people who are in crises all the time and are depressed and neurologically wonky and have endless sexuality/gender crises or whatnot, because I've been there and done that. But I've also realised that you will never, ever be able to claw your way out of depression if you don't set hard limits and step away from the situations that are going to harm your mental health. I'd much rather spend all my days alone hanging out with fictional characters who made me happy than spend even ten seconds with a person who repeatedly keeps dumping horrors upon me. And again, it's not that I don't have empathy; it's because I'll become just as miserable as you and that's not going to help anyone. It'll just increase the amount of misery in the world. I'll gladly be there for my friends but it's only those few friends whose worries don't actively fucking destroy me on the inside. There's a certain limit that I am not willing to go over any more when it comes to empathising and generally offering cuddles. I can do it and those of you with whom I'm close know that I can be as cuddly and as kind as hell, but once the angst load starts to turn me into the opposite--that psycho bitch from hell--I fail to see how that can help anyone. So unless you think of me as just some dumpster instead of a stupidly easily hurt person, please seek help from those who are better equipped to give it.
This post brought to you by two and a half people in the recent past trying to re-initiate friendships by constantly wangsting at me, and me realising I'm so fucking over that stage in my life. I'm glad those people are no longer a daily part of my life. Yes, I'm a horrible, evil person for not bending over backwards to carry their wangst, I know. But I'm no longer willing to sacrifice my happiness or my sanity for anyone. Life is far, far too short and precious for that--maybe all the health problems and near-death experiences in my past five years have taught me that. And I'm damned if I'm going to waste it on people who actively poison me with their own shit, whether they realise they're doing it or not. I've moved on. And let me tell you, relative sanity and happiness--even if I might end up completely friendless in the end--are absolutely worth it. I heartily recommend that whole Buddhist idea of mindfulness in that you constantly ask yourself this question: "Is me saying/doing this going to increase happiness in the world?" and if it isn't, it's not worth doing/saying. No matter how shit you feel. I'm not perfect about that because I still grumble and angst at times, but at least asking that question of yourself, whenever you can, does work wonders. I'm not a saint, but at least I'm making a fucking effort. Happiness is hard work, but it's preferable to utter misery. And I'm so, so done with misery.