I think I’m just awful at being a human being.

The more I’m forced into Adult World the more I’m forced to realize that I”m bad at being a human being.

Really, I’m horrible.  I find human interaction absolutely exhausting.  I just legitimately DO NOT understand so many things that go into being a functional adult.  I’m learning that questioning things that are ” just what you do” get you hella side-eye.  Oh, and apparently you’re not supposed to admit how much you hate thing or try to be funny with your boss.  If your hobbies aren’t crossfit or something on pinterest, you are a weirdo.

arielgross

Instances that brought me to this conclusion:

Commiserating with co-workers about expensive travel, I said this: “I’m glad I don’t have any friends, it means I don’t have to go to a lot of weddings.”
Coworker:  “So…essentially you just said that friends a hassle.”
Me:  “Well…yeah…right?”

humble

Co-workers talking about weekend drinking, workouts, etc.  Then ask how my weekend was:  “Oh!  The antique shop down my street had a sidewalk sale!  It was so cool, OMG!”    *co-workers blink, then stare*

swordandthestone

My sisters asks me how I like my neighborhood: “It’s fucking weird.  All these people wave at me and shit and try to be friendly.  They invited us to a block party.  Who does that?”

My friend and I getting out of my car and neighbor waves “Hello:”  *awkward wave and forced smile* “quick, get inside before he thinks he can chat us up.”

idon'tlifeyou

Family leaves after visiting for a weekend: begin immediate cleaning, hug dog, and tell him “it’s okay, it’s just me now.  And ice cream.”

On discussing the zombie (or other type of) apocalypse:
Me:  “I think I’d just die.”
Boyfriend:  “What?  Wouldn’t you like try to fight or save people or anything.”
Me: “No.  It just seems like it would be really hard.  Like, everything would be hard.  I don’t want to do that.”

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Debating the worth of Indian Jones movies with a history buff:
History buff:  “But Indiana Jones is like history adventure and action.  You add aliens and it’s just ridiculous Chariots of the Gods stuff.”
Me: “But all the other movies are based on religious myths.  I see religious myths and alien myths as the same….but I think that’s offensive to say isn’t it? umm….”

sherlock sorry

Boyfriend getting ready to go out of town for weekend:
Boyfriend: “What are you gonna do while I’m gone?”
Me: “Transcribe research interviews.  Analyze.  Self-loath.”
Boyfriend: “Why don’t you go out with friends?”
Me: “…I don’t….have friends?”

smegle

After my graduation ceremony:
Mom: “Did you want to go to that cocktail hour for your graduating class and see your classmates?”
Sister:  “You know she doesn’t.”

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When my friend comments on my back tattoo being hard to read:  “No, I like it that way because I don’t like when people comment on my tattoos and ask what they mean.”

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It’s become kind of a fun game, my utter lack of social grace/interest.  I’ve learned that if I laugh off the more offensive things that I say (only noticing how offensive they are as I get to the end of the sentence) I get people to just think that I’m a funny bitch.  This doesn’t always work and I often come off as just a bitch.  But I’ve also discovered that when I really REALLY try to be social and engage with people I’m fucking miserable.  I just don’t care.  I don’t care about the lives of 98% of people around me.  If you are my dog, boyfriend, or one of the very few friends and loved family members that are important in my life, I’m probably not going to try.

IDGAF

I know when I really have to try.  I can do it for a bit at a time, socialize and be casual.  But, and I can’t stress this enough, it’s exhausting and stressful.  It’s who I am.  I’m bad at being a human.  I’m okay with that.

bowie

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Reflections from inside Rape Culture

A few weeks ago I started, and never quite finished, a post of a few of the more amusing moments I’ve had in therapy.   Those ridiculous things that I deal with that are so obviously answered, yet depressed people can’t even form into questions.  But then on my drive home today I was musing about a few more of these and I remembered a less-than-funny bit of my therapy in high school.

Throughout high school I was in theater.  I was a kickass techie, propmaster, and all around killer crew kid.  Up until I got a job and had to cut back, I spent pretty much all of my after school hours in tech, or waiting around for tech to start.

Some days we would wait around the school for an hour or more waiting for things to start up.  Or there would be nothing for us to do, so we would just hang around outside the actual theater.  Of course, there were all kinds of other kids doing this as well, or waiting for other things, rides, sports. whatever.  All things were good.

Except this one kid…

During my freshman year in high school, we would hang around, waiting for the backstage area to open, waiting to be told what to do, waiting for rides, etc.  There was this one kid who wasn’t in theater or anything.  I never had any idea what he was always doing around after school got out, but he gave me the creeps.  He had some distant acquaintanceship with one of my friends, so he would hang around us.  But, ugh, he gave me the creeps.  He was always standing too close.  Make too personal of jokes at me.  Asking other people weird things about me.  Offering me and no one else rides home.  To the point that he was following me around the school.  If I left to talk to a teacher or use the computer lab away from my friends, he would be right around the corner.  When I told him to stop or leave me alone, he would laugh.  If a friend told him to back off, he would laugh.  It got to the point that I didn’t want to leave the green room or stage area.  I knew the director always had a fit if non-tech or non-actors were back there, so I always made up a reason to be back there or took a friend if I had another errand to run.

I was 15.  I had no idea what else to do at this point.  I was in therapy, so I told my therapist what was going on.  I told him that this was making me not want to go to tech crew.  Well, rather than figuring out what action to take and what to do, my therapist decides to tell me “Oh he’s just interested and doesn’t know how to show it.”  He tried to convince me I was being insecure because of depression.  That this was just a kid with a crush.  When I continued to tell him that it made me REALLY FREAKED OUT and HIDE IN THE GREENROOM, he advised me “Well if you’re not interested, just don’t pay attention.  He’ll eventually move on.”

really

Well, let’s just talk about how much better that all made me feel.  I should apparently be flattered that this guy is following me around and being super inappropriate in all ways.  But it’s only because he has a crush.  I shouldn’t be scared or creeped out at all.  I’m just insecure.  Great.

ok

I feel 100% positive I’m not the only person who has gone through something like this and gotten this type of advice.  And I wish I could even say something about how this therapist was a horrible, sexist, asshole.  But, truth is, he was wonderful in many ways.  He helped me through that first episode of depression and get my head back on track.  The horrible thing is that this is such a natural response to the issue I brought forward for so many people.  What should I have expected?  What could he have said?  Shit, I would have been fine with “I’m sorry, that sucks and it sucks that people like that exist.”  Just to know that this wasn’t something I should expect or something that is okay for people to have to deal with or something that is somehow a positive because it means I’m attractive.

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This is just one day-to-day example of rape culture.  Luckily in my case, nothing horrible happened.  I made it through the show season by hiding and using the buddy system.  The school year ended and I actually never saw the kid again.  Never asked what happened and never wanted to know.  It was nice, after that, to be able to stay after school and walk around freely, not worrying if someone was following me.  Not feeling uncomfortable, hiding, or pulling another friend away from their business so I could pee.

I’m sure someone out there can tell me I was/am overreacting or making something out of nothing.  But here is the truth:  I was freaked out and uncomfortable.  I felt unsafe.  The adult I trusted enough to say something to diminished and even normalized it.  It’s not normal.  It shouldn’t be normal to feel like that.

How to get a job (In Chicago)

I got a job!!!!  WOooot!!

Fiercetyra

Actually I got a job like a month ago (ha!  One day before my arbitrary and unrealistic -May 30-deadline that I gave myself to feel some sort of self worth that obviously backfired because it resulted in 2 months of self-loathing before I got the offer).

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But that’s in the past now!  And through this sorted process of job finding I learned a few things about how you get jobs.

You see, for the past 9 years I have been in the stressful, but protective bubble of school.  Scholarships, work study, student loans, practica, etc all protected me from the real world.  I had jobs, bartending, serving, tutoring, I was Sauerkraut Girl for one glorious winter break.  But I never felt bad about these temporary and low paying jobs because I convinced myself, well, deluded myself into thinking that I would be better on the other side.  I would be big fancy doctor pants and it would all be worth it.  Not getting a serving job that I didn’t care about didn’t matter because there were 100 bars all over the place that always needed someone.

Enter impending graduation and forced entry into the real world.

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It turns out when you work really hard on something, a degree, you want really hard to prove that you deserve it and that you’re good at it.  The first step to that is finding a job that utilizes said degree.  Every single time you get rejected it provides a little proof that you do not deserve that degree.  No matter how hard you worked, you still suck.   Every single time a cohort member gets a job, you hate them and yourself more.

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You polish and polish and polish your resume.  You realize you are polishing a turd.  You cry.  You eat feelings.  This goes on for months.

But Bowie explained all of that.

Gratuitous use of the most ridiculous moment in film.

Gratuitous use of the most ridiculous moment in film.

Anyway, I actually got two fellowship offers.  And you know what I realized through these offers?  There are only two ways to get a job in Chicago.  Nepotism or amazingly cute shoes.

Add shoes and a connection and you have a job in this town.

Add shoes and a connection and you have a job in this town.

I know right?  I mean, nepotism doesn’t surprise anyone.  This is Chicago.  We can quit pretending like this surprises us.  My first job offer came from a friend of a friend.  Friend passed CV to her friend, kablam!  Offer.  Legit, like no interview until after offer was made.

Shoes?   I wish I was making that up.  I wear different shoes all the time.  I love shoes.  But I have one pair of shoes that I have worn to pretty much every successful interview, save my current placement.  They are old and they are cute as hell.  I bought them for grad school interviews and those bitches have kept me solid ever since.  And this is not even belief in luck.  I always have someone comment on the shoes at the school or agency.  I wore them to interview at a site way beyond my reach, and those fuckers hired me!  Only, of course, after commenting on my shoes.  Now, these shoes are not comfortable in any way.  Or even fancy; I bought them at Target in 2008.  But they are my “Hey, I’m a 6 ft tall badass therapist” shoes, apparently.  They’re old and worn out.  But I’m afraid if I get rid of them I will be forever unemployed.

Shoes

Anyway, that is the story of how I got a job and value as a human being.

The End

Aww thanks, Cumby!

Aww thanks, Cumby!