As you’re all horribly aware, as I’ve made you all horribly aware per my own personal insistence, I am not human.
At least, I don’t consider myself as such. I’m pretty sure my anatomy is of the human variety (two arms, two legs, two eyes, one brain, one heart, a liver, two lungs, a large intestine, small intestine, and so on ) and other humans seem to regard me as human in most instances. They talk to me and invite me to human gatherings where a bunch of other humans get together and do human things like eat, dance, and drink. I live in a human-based society where they’ve put their value of their humanity above all other animals, plants, and forms of life and deem themselves “rational” (against their own better judgement half the time) and “intelligent” (also against their own better judgement), then spend the majority of their lives finding a way to create a hierarchy of intelligence and rationality until they start considering other humans irrational and unintelligent based on the biased hierarchies they’ve created.
They create definitions of abstract concepts and argue over them, then conclude “to each his own”.
What was the point in arguing in the first place, then?
There are reasons I consider myself the most confident self doubter I have ever met; I’m confident within my self-doubt. When we’re getting mixed signals as a society, we define ourselves through those contradictions and I have done this long enough and well enough to see fully the damage it’s caused.
I have a passion . . . well, a few passions, and see it fit to follow each of them through. To what extent I will follow them I couldn’t say, but I will follow them. Some require school, others require experience, and the majority of them require some level of socialization.
I am both nervous about socialization and horrible at it. Because I did not talk through some crucial development years, I never learned how to establish crucial social skills either, to the point where I am generally clueless on how to assert myself in anything other than written word, my saving grace.
People often mix up assertion and conversation. Once I get used to someone I can carry on a reasonable conversation; but even when I’ve known someone for seven years, I find it difficult to assert my feelings and thoughts into particular conversations.
As a result, I’ve met with enough people and studied enough people through observation (and some experimentation of my own–shhhh don’t tell anyone) to know that my silence is viewed as ignorance, stupidity, weakness. When you have those labels slapped upon you before you even have a chance to prove them wrong, you get a little nervous in making an attempt to prove them wrong at all.
I’ve never doubted my intelligence, I think I have a decent enough level of it to get me through my life. I’m by no means a sparkling, haughty-taughty genius, as much as I wish I could be, and I won’t lie, there are some things I learn much, much slower than others. There are other things I learn quicker than other and retain better than others. That’s pretty normal functioning as a human in a human society.
If I were human. I’m not, I swear. I came from halfway across the Galaxy from a little ice planet. Our beings are strictly in a form of consciousness, so the concept of physical bodies took a little getting used to.
My social anxiety and general ignorance of proper social customs makes it difficult to learn in groups and/or ask professors for help. What I learn I learn on my own accord, and for that I am proud. But it brings in a lot of self doubt about how far I can go. Today in class, as I always do, I observed others raising their hands and blurting words freely from their tongue I couldn’t have. I try to think of something to say to contribute, but verbal, academic words are hard to come by. I can manage easier in casual conversation because no one expects a standard from you, not an academic standard at least. I can say “what the fuck: that stupid fucking piece of shit car just sprayed fucking mud all over my door!” without someone saying (to my face) that I’m stupid.
I cannot, however, contribute to a philosophical conversation with a bunch of “um, well, I think that that concept is fucking stupid.”
*Cough* Utilitarianism *Cough*
Because then I’d have to explain why. And in explaining why, I’d sound like “well, it’s just . . . it’s stupid because of all the reasons everyone else already said”.
Because the only words that will come to my mind will be unoriginal. I’ve lived long enough with this self to know the first words that will come to my mind to speak verbally will be a rip off of someone else’s.
There’s some kind of eloquence gene for verbal speech I missed out on. If I’m aware I need to speak in class, I always write down my blurb before speaking a word of anything. It’s the only way I can manage.
It’s impossible to ever be 100% original, you’re always standing on the shoulders of someone else in the world of academia, but there’s a level of originality you’re expected to achieve, one I know I can in my writing that I know I struggle immensely with in my speech. It gets worse the more nervous I am, but even when my anxiety is low I struggle in forming words.
I say low because there’s never a moment I’m not anxious.
So, my thoughts for this week.
Will I be able to handle this new job which requires my communication to be pristine, which requires I report to authority in a professional way, one that doesn’t reveal how intimidated I am mentally? I was the only new employee who needed to get a “back exam” so they could see if i could carry 45 pounds. I was the only new employee to be called into the director’s office for the third time and asked how I was doing, how I was liking the job, if I had any questions, and what my thoughts were.
When someone constantly pesters you to inform them on your thoughts, you know one of two things:
1). You haven’t been speaking up.
2). Because you haven’t been talking, they’re nervous about you.
There’s not yet a moment in time I feel comfortable telling the director, manager, leads, or my trainer about my mental health issues. There’s a possibility they’d understand, but there’s also a possibility I’ll be seen as even weaker. I’m already only one of three women in a department of all men.
All of the information I received this weekend was really overwhelming. I’m hoping I can keep up to the level they expect. It only serves further to remind me that I’m not mentally at the level of a 20 year old. I’m stuck in the mind of a nervous thirteen year old, unsure of how to take on responsibility or how to approach people in the real world.
This will be my second job and I was psychotic enough to take a leap from regular line employee at a retail toy store to a cash worker balancing big vaults and mini vaults, processing money, fixing machines, making runs, answering phone calls . . . it’s so intense they have you carry around a note book to take notes on all of the processes like a class. Training lasts for weeks. Months, in some cases.
My problem is I always tell myself I’m not prepared. When logically, how could I ever be prepared? All jobs are different, there are always going to be challenges you have to face and new skills you have to learn.
My second problem is, when I convince myself I’m not prepared, I drop out and say “I’ll work on myself first”.
And then I never do.
Because you can’t work on yourself by staying in your room and bathing in comfort.
If I drop out of this, I’ll fall into that endless cycle again, and I can’t spend another year of my life feeling like a thirteen year old. I want to gain the skills I should have developed years ago when I wasn’t aware of them.
Will I ever be comfortable around people? Mostly likely not. It’s not in my nature; I prefer being by myself and feel like I’m invading people’s privacy when I’m near them. Will I ever perfect my speech in the same way I’ve been improving my writing?
As long as I can gather enough skill to pass as a human being, I will be satisfied. But that’s a long journey from now.