Blood (i.e. family rant)

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For the first time in a week I feel able to "come out of hiding", so-to-speak. My depression is still heavy, very heavy, but manageable enough to get little things done and to attempt to be more social instead of speaking only to my Husband.
And here's what I have to say, first words, out of the worst of the depression...

Blood. I could give a **** about "blood". Blood has only served to color the wounds left behind. My loyalty is love, my motivation is love. Love for someone else would keep me breathing long past the point of reason, my love for others compels me to sacrifice myself in myriad ways for their benefit even if it is at only detriment to me and with no true appreciation of my efforts. Love is my loyalty, my bond, that which solidifies. Love kills me, slowly. An ugly truth, but truth nonetheless. I appreciate all the advice, perspective and aid offered me from those close enough to know the details. It's lovely of them to care enough to take the time to lend thought to my problems and furthermore attempt to help. It's all rather futile though. Pointless. Moot. There's really nothing to be done, except to ask myself very honest and painful questions and listen for the answers. I confess, it seems to be an automatic "deafness" that occurs when I try to listen for the answers. I suddenly can't seem to corral my thoughts, can't get my hands on a single feeling so that I can piece the puzzle together. Like shooting a rifle into the air in a crowd of cattle, there is so much noise and chaos that there is nothing to be done but wait for it to settle. All I can do is to keep trying, keep asking and listening, until I can hear one of the answers clearly enough.

I think I'll be doing this for a while. But, it has to be done. If I want any resolution, any way to get out from between the Rock and the Hard Place, I have to be patient and keep trying.

Ok. Monologue finished.

Yep.

I have often wished I wasn’t born into my family. It ain’t like “Leave it to Beaver” (though I do like the show).

There are times when I have the “deafness” you speak of. Ultimately, upon reflection, it’s usually a detriment.

This is why I need space, rather than people input all the time. I get rebellious if advice, even good advice, is offered by certain people.

Maybe it’s a “pride” thing...but I don’t want certain people to know they’re “right.” It only confirms their negative vision of me. I’ll make concessions in my mind, though.

Sometimes, all that’s needed are simple things, not dissertations. Some nice caresses, rather than a lengthy diatribe from a person who wants me to know that he/she “cares.”

Plenty of people outside of the family think it may as well be. They're great at putting on a show; I suppose I should be thankful because without that innate, apparently genetic, ability I'd never have been able to pass as NT and make it as far as I did in our current society. Can't say I feel appreciative though.

To be sure. It's constantly a detriment to me. I'm not quite sure when it started or where it came from. I used to be quite good at being honest with myself. I suppose the conditioning took over, more deeply, than I'd realized.

Other people are tricky, for me. There is one person I pretty much would never be upset with, no matter what. But we've been in the trenches (psychologically) together and so I know that if they're telling me, then it absolutely needed to be said and I need to hear it. Most people though, they tend to think I have a more limited grasp on anything I'm going through than I actually do. I'm not sure why, sometimes I take offense to it because in a way it's like they find my ability to comprehend and contend with the problem, questionable. Which sets off my anger because 9 times out of 10 I've been correct on either their own or someone close to them's deep seated issues. While there is something to be said for seeing from the outside of the box, many of the problems are in here with me and cannot be removed from it, only situated better within it. I pull no punches with myself, and I'm far from blind when it comes to my own limitations, sins and dysfunctions. So it gets exasperating quite often when "advice" is given. It's hardly ever anything I don't already know or have thought of. But I don't ever really get mad, I just appreciate that they care enough to even try to help. But that's from not ever having had help when I needed it as a child; not that people weren't aware, they were most definitely aware of the things happening to me, they just simply chose not to involve themselves or feel any sympathy for me.
I think the only time I get angry is when the person doesn't know me, knows nothing about the situation other than a brief overview, and is either condescending or overly personal.

Thankfully the people I choose to spend time around don't pull that diatribe garbage. I hated that, deeply. I always found it to be so infantile to speak to another human being as though they're an imbecile.

No doubt. Only you know the ins and outs of you. No psychobabble is going to get at the essence of you.

If I give advice, it’s based on my own experiences. I say “this happened to me, and that was the result.” I am aware that others might not obtain the same result. But I believe in putting my experiences “out there,” rather than just not say anything. It’s better than leaving people in the dark. It might not be the best advice—-but it is input which can be used, perhaps, to complement input from other sources.

I’ve had lots of “nothing” in my life. I’ve seen the lack of input and caring render people apathetic, perhaps even to the point of seeming to have had a lobotomy.

I’ve also had both good advice and the usual psychobabble. For some reason, I can usually tell which one is which. I always at least pretend to listen, then do whatever, anyway, perhaps to my ultimate detriment.

Many times, a mere look in the eye, a wink, or doing something to satisfy another person’s immediate need, is much better than a grand inspirational speech. I avoid charismatic types like the Plague.

Many of our worst dictators were great orators.

Exact-a-mundo.

I honestly find that to be the best advice. It's almost like trading research on a science experiment. Even if the results are entirely different, at least you know what they could be and try to avoid it.

The part of me that's still interested in psychology is really intrigued by the mentality of "nothing". The rest is just disgusted.

I can too. I think it has to do with the sincerity with which the advice is given. It's usually no frills, straight to the point, and it almost never has any kind of directed personal tone or insinuations. Cut, dry, simple and clear.

Too true. Charisma is suspicious lol. Though false charisma, the kind you can spot a mile away, that's usually the most dangerous.

Did you ever find it funny that a TV show that takes place in Milwaukee had so many people with New York accents?

It’s only recently that I came to see the absurdity of this.

Still, it was a great show until the characters adopted 80s hairstyles when the show was supposed to take place in the early 60s.

I said “exactimundo” to someone recently. That someone looked at me like I had three heads.

We do speak the same language

I honestly hadn't even noticed the accents, and I had no idea it was filmed in Milwaukee. That's great. That's old stuff though, none of it even came close to trying for authenticity lol. I don't know if there was just a lack of a broad enough range of actors/aspiring actors or if they really were just being inappropriately selective and preferential.

Yeah, well you know, to hell with craftsmanship and quality. Whatever sells, SELL IT!!

LOL really?? How silly. Although... I suppose the terms I use are unusual, come to think of it. I've definitely had plenty of times where people have looked at me with some surprise, repeated what I've said, and then confessed to never having heard it before. Though the ones that get me are when people tell me they didn't know that common idioms were longer than the one small sentence. (e.g. "tough titty said the kitty when the milk ran dry... have another said the mother as it started to cry" or "curiosity killed the cat... but satisfaction brought it back.") Then I really feel like an outsider/alien. LOL.