Back on the Horse (or whatever)
March 1, 2014 § Leave a comment
So I joined Match.com yesterday to see if I would feel less depressed and certain that I’m going to end up alone because I’m an impossible person to get along with. So far it’s been less…. gross? than OKCupid, likely because you have to pay for Match.com so the nasty guys who just want to hook up are weeded out. But so far no one is really jumping out at me, and of course since it’s Alabama, most guys went to in-state schools and are some form of Christian, looking for “nice” girls who are sweet, elegant, and can cook.
Obviously none of them are looking for a girl like me. Guess the type of guys who would like a girl like me are too cool for dating sites. I’m only going to do it for a month, just to give it a fair shot, but I don’t see much coming out of it. Guess I’ll have to get dolled up and go sit alone at a bar somewhere. That always sounds good in theory, but I don’t think I look approachable, kind of a “resting bitch face” issue mixed with a general distrust of men that results in automatic rejection. I’ve just learned the hard way again and again that many men can’t be trusted. I hate it, but it makes a girl pretty defensive from the start. I like the ability to weed people out based on religious beliefs and political views via online dating sites, but I still don’t feel like I’m going to find “the One,” if such a man exists, based on some simple formula and a good profile picture… Would have been so much easier if Alec or Mark could have worked out. I loved them, they loved me in their own ways. I could see a future with both of them. But here I am, trying to get back in the dating saddle of awkwardness, distrust, and the haunting feeling that I’m just too impossible of a person for anyone to deal with forever.
I keep getting messages like “You’re so gorgeous, how are you single?” Well…. I can’t speak to what my face looks like objectively, but I can tell you that I have the personality of a rhinoceros. Does that sound good to you? I have only two friends left because I’m such an awful person to be around. I’m impossible to please, I get tired of everyone at some point no matter if they’re a boyfriend, friend, or family. I make it impossible to love me and be happy with me. Why is that? I don’t think that I’m that awful, but I certainly seem to be. Always upset over something. Always aloof. Always needing alone time. Always just a bit off.
At some point a few months ago, I was feeling really bad and in an effort to pull myself out of it, I made a list of all the things I thought were good about myself. Things like: You are kind. You love your pets like family. You like to laugh. You’re talented. You can be very affectionate. Etc. Things to try to see myself in a different light when I start feeling bad about who I am. That list seems so flimsy now, so weak, so desperate. “Grasping for straws” is the right colloquialism, I think. No matter how much I cut my hair or change my clothes or try out new makeup, I’m still myself. I’m still Alexa. I’m still abrasive, detached, judgmental, easily upset, and generally impossible to get along with for an extended period of time. I feel like I’m okay, that I can’t be that terrible of a person if I spoil my doggy children and never litter and try to be generally polite to everyone I meet, but looking at my messy history of friendships and relationships, it becomes clear that that’s not the case.
My parents think I’m a borderline alcoholic. It’s not true, of course, but it’s upsetting that they think that. I’ll be upset about things with alcohol in the mix or not, they just don’t seem to see or understand that.
I’m still borderline suicidal and have been showing exceptional restraint as far as cutting myself goes since I’ve been at the beach. The knives are all so dull here anyway, and I’m certainly watched closely. My aunt is really pushing me to go back to counseling but I just don’t get anything out of it. I also lie to my counselor about the regularity of my suicidal thoughts and desire to cut myself on a daily basis. Guess that could be part of the problem.
Apparently I scare people because I’m like this. Such a weird word to describe that reaction: scared. I never would have predicted that. I wonder why I still have those impulses after all the meds I’m on and the support my parents and extended family have offered me. Even when things are okay, when I feel fine, I still think about dragging a blade across my wrist. I can see how that isn’t normal, but it’s my normal. I shouldn’t have cut myself last month. That broke down the barrier of “To do it or not to do it” so now that little voice in my head just says “Do it. Do it. Do it.” instead of talking me out of it.
How can I ask someone to get involved with me when I’m such a mess? That’s not fair, is it? Can I lie about it? Can I pretend to be happy and normal? What’s the phrase… Fake it til you make it? Or something? I should try that. Pretend to be normal. Pretend to be nice. Pretend to be happy. Maybe then I won’t be alone. Is my honesty and integrity a fair trade for not being alone?
I’m pretty anxious about going back to Birmingham. I’m nervous about being alone again. I’m nervous about venturing outside of my apartment into familiar spaces with a load of memories that will likely cause me pain now. I’m nervous about dealing with the mess of my social circle that I abandoned when I came to the beach. I’m nervous about running into people I don’t want to see. Being alone will be the hardest part, though I look forward to being back in my own space again.
I’ve gotta go back though. I can’t stay here at the beach. Reality must be confronted at some point and I can’t keep putting it off. I’ve got training for a job starting on March 10th, so I’ll be back for that. Gotta make that money. Gotta pay my debts. Gotta start taking care of myself again.
Let’s hope I’m up for it.