I Thought You Were Good

// Tuesday, 20 December 2016

03:27

crumble

Reflections

Every now and then I think about who I no longer am and it makes me upset. The lost person who I grew out of. I've never particularly liked who I am but in a lot of ways I love who I am. Over time I've grown and changed and now I look back at the person I hated and wish I was still her. It doesn't make any sense but maybe someone out there understands. That's all I've ever wanted. Understanding. When I was a teenager I was the normal angst-filled adolescent who thought nobody could possibly understand her. Now I'm fully grown and I've become the hidden introvert who masks her social awkwardness with smiles and fully believable social skills. If you knew me you'd think I was confident and nice and intelligent and organised. I am all of those things while at the same time being none of those things. I put on a show of confidence because I am too frightened to let anyone know that I am scared. I am nice because I believe every other person on this planet is more important than me. I am intelligent because I am too embarrassed to not know something and be caught out looking stupid. I am organised because that is the only way to stop my anxiety from overcoming me.

You see what is on the surface but I am the iceberg that destroyed the Titanic.

I have spent cumulative hours crying on the floor in the shower.

I have spent regular discrete moments looking out the 13th story window of my office wondering where I would land and how it would feel.

I have stood on train platforms breathing in the gust of air that comes just before the train and wondering whether that is the moment when everything goes dark. .

These moments are sometimes fleeting. Some days my brain says, 'should I finish up today?' and immediately my response is 'no'. Other days it takes a little longer.

On the really dark days even having something big in the future to look forward to does nothing. Any thought of the future is absolutely inconsequential. The only way to get through those times is to get through them. And I've somehow managed to get through a lot of them.

I go to bed at a reasonable hour. I wake up with my alarm. I go to work and have a coffee and weetbix for breakfast. I do a spin class on Tuesdays and spend 45 minutes feeling like a normal person. The same as everyone in that class, everyone in that gym. For 45 minutes I concentrate on my breathing and the music and think about the reason I walked into that classroom. I go out to dinner with friends and smile and sometimes have a good time and sometimes don't. I remember birthdays and send presents and babysit. I do all the things that make a person normal and try my hardest to make it stick.

Maybe I shouldn't miss the person I was when I was younger. Maybe I am still her. Maybe I have just grown deeper and have gotten better hiding who I really am, even from myself.

You've probably seen me without seeing me. Or maybe you are me and I haven't seen you. Just remember this next time you're talking to someone. Really talk to someone. Don't just let them float by without at least trying to see below the surface.

Remember: Iceberg ahead.