Every day a part of me feels as if I have to put on a mask and portray a persona that makes myself seem alright. I’ve told others things like this before and it seems to be a continuing narrative. You know, the one where I’m always a victim and others are always winning while I never seem to get a piece of the damn pie that I only want because someone else has it – in fact, everyone else has it and not one of them considers that maybe I want it. But here’s the truth, maybe I don’t want it.
I remember in elementary school when I used to believe in the Christian idea of God that I was always teased every day for being oversensitive and not one day that I can remember was without a single tear coming from my eyes because of the fact that everyone teased me for being different, from liking the company of girls to crying a lot (something even my teachers couldn’t deal with) and I felt so alone and one night before bed, I prayed and prayed that I’d be popular. To me, even, it sounds ridiculous that I’d even do such a thing, that I’d believe in a God who would help me do something like that but then again, when you’re 9 years old – you tend to be selfish, especially when you feel like everyone’s always against you and you’ve always had that sort of social awareness about how things are supposed to be and yet, your life is burdened with the fact that your life wasn’t as perfect as it should. I didn’t live a fairy tale, I still don’t live a fairy tale – I’m broke and my family’s not exactly “well off” and then I’m also gay and have autism in addition to a bunch of other disorders. For some reason, I thought that people online understood but I’ve found that they care about as much as people did in real life. To them, and to everyone else, I was just this kid who didn’t matter – pretty sure that’s how it still is. And for some reason, I feel like I needed this attention to feel like I matter, I still do, and it’s really strange to think that after years and years of having to hide who I am from other people that I still don’t get the fact that attention doesn’t matter. It’s like every day I progress a little and I regress just a bit more.
I have no idea if it’s my childhood issues or what that makes me the insecure person that I am. What’s even more surprising is how unstable everything in my life has been and how much of a constant I seem to be. I’ve always been told that I’m a hard worker, a good student, and really creative. Anyone would think that even though I go to a community college, still, that I really shouldn’t be suffering. The most surprising thing anyone should know about me is that not a month goes by that suicidal ideation isn’t present. Most days it isn’t, some days it’s just terrible and I feel like I need to cry, like I need a hug, like I need to do something to take it away but being the person society thinks of me, I don’t get any help at all. Anyway, I have no understanding for why these thoughts come into my head to begin with, especially knowing that I fully do accept who I am as an individual, both my qualities and the very person who I am. I accept the fact that I’m gay and very much want to be as much of an advocate as I can be, the same goes with me being autistic, an Asian-American, and even as someone who society would suggest is “ugly”. I guess it’s one thing to love and accept who you are, but it’s another to say that I feel as if others do so as well. The truth may be that I don’t or that even if I do, it’s limited. And so every day is another struggle, but every single one reminds me too that I’m a survivor: of depression, of oppression, of many of the malevolent things that others want to do to me.
I do struggle with myself, I will acknowledge that and even accept it. But in life, it’s all about struggle right? About going through stuff and then about facing it head on and being a success afterwards. I have no idea when that moment will come for me, but I am looking forward to it and if you face this same kind of situation, I really hope you do too. In the meantime, I suggest doing something you love to do, even though you’re the only one who’s willing to listen to yourself. I mean, I love writing, but my friends could care less about what I write about or that I even chose to do it – all people want to be is happy and they want to pretend that showing this type of emotion is bad, we’ve basically cast any form of negative emotion as evil, even to the point that sharing your negative thoughts about yourself is considered a “plea for attention”. That’s not how things should work, not in reality anyway. I will tell you that for me, writing about my experiences and struggles is more reparative than anything else. These last few articles that I’ve written (and probably this one) has had no comments, but I think that it’s important to write about these things because even though I know others will try, they won’t be able to capture it in the same way I do. I’m not better than anyone else, but maybe I just stopped caring. Oh well.
I’ve written these same type of articles since 2012 on this very blog (though with a long hiatus) and I’m still doing the same thing! Honestly for some of us, it takes a few times around to realize a lesson that we learned.