Friends: Part Two

I used to get so frustrated with some of my friends.

I mean, almost enraged at times.

And I was never afraid to show it.

With actions or words.

Or tone of voice.

I never said I wasn’t toxic before antipsychotics.

There would be certain people.

Usually friends of friends.

Acquaintances.

That would irk me the most.

But not always.

Sometimes I turned on people I’ve known for years.

I don’t know why.

I would drag people with me for as long as they’d allow.

I’d tell them when I’d be obsessing over something.

I’d tell them about how other people made me act like this.

Now that I’m able to think about why my behavior spiraled.

Something becomes very clear.

I think it was their innocence that got to me.

Their sheltered, almost naive outlook on life.

Now I know part of me was very jealous of that as well.

Upset that I never had a choice to be surrounded by this darkness.

Because here they are.

Oblivious to the horrors of my reality.

And it shows.

Their actions and words would be childish to me.

Insensitive.

Something to be ashamed of.

Behaviors that I would never produce.

Through rose colored glasses I would never see.

It comes down to a disconnect.

I just don’t understand people.

My world is very, very different from most others.

I’ve said this before.

But I never understood how everyone is so calm all the time.

Why the rage doesn’t take over anyone else like it does me.

But what I’ve always heard in my head was called normal by professionals.

I was told it was normal for so long.

I thought everyone was dealing with this constant internal conflict.

These murmurs about being a horrible person.

About people being out to intentionally sabotage me.

Talking about me while sitting next to me.

Glancing and pointing at me from across the room.

But when no one’s as dysfunctional as me.

Not for this many years.

Not at this intensity.

Not getting worse like I am somehow.

I feel the distance between myself and others.

I’m not like everyone else.

We don’t live in the same world.

How are people functioning and happy?

Don’t they understand how irate I am?

Don’t they feel this rage too?

This pure fury towards things?

It makes so much sense as to why I don’t have many friends anymore.

The voices talk.

And talk.

And talk.

They ramble on about this negative thing or that.

And I took everything in through this filter.

A filter of voices, loathing and zero patience.

In reality.

What the voices say to me is not inevitable.

They are not me.

They do not have the final say.

They shouldn’t have any say.

And now that I know that, I understand the distancing from the people that I knew.

I get mad at myself for not noticing that these voices are not normal.

That they’re a fucking thing.

For not noticing these horrid and detrimental behaviors of mine.

Not fucking reliaizing that I’m hearing voices.

Not noticing things are off.

I mean, I knew, but I didn’t.

I didn’t know it was a problem.

I didn’t realize the effect.

Until it was so big my life flipped upside down.

I found out at age thirty nine that my reality is not real.

What the fuck.

That was hard enough to comprehend.

And when I surfaced this year.

Treading water.

I realized how many people I’ve lost.

How I fucked up.

How the voices have always fucked me up.

And everything kinda crumbled into a pile on the floor of my stomach.

And bore a hole in my heart.

Because now I feel like people can’t stand being around me.

But they just don’t understand.

People are tough for me.

I have a way of clearing a room.

And not on purpose.

Quite the opposite.

I try to blend and end up getting defensive over something and start something.

Make a scene.

I wish people could really understand the confusion I’ve been submerged in since I was in middle school.

I thought these voices were mind reading abilities.

They would tell me what people were truly thinking.

Now I know that’s impossible.

But for my whole life I thought it was a given that I have a gift.

And this is why people hate me so much.

And try to sabotage me.

Because I see through them.

I now know that none of that was ever happening.

The hallucinations and delusions my mind creates have been in the driver’s seat for a while.

They’ve distorted a lot of things over the years.

And relationships, friendships, all the “-ships” words.

They’ve been skewed with this view.

Or again, filter.

So now I’m starting from scratch.

Again.

But I know now that I don’t take into play the shit the voices whisper.

I don’t have to hear them.

I may have to listen to them.

But I try to not hear them.

So I’m hoping whatever friends are in the future can better understand the why part of me.

I would never use it as an excuse.

But rather for an explanation.

And my new found ability for gentle honesty will hopefully do well for me.

Time will tell.

But I’ve been debating getting back on Facebook and attempting to refriend or message some people.

I don’t know if it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.

So I keep thinking about it.

It may be worth a shot.

But I’m not down or ready for the possible rejections that may surface with those same attempts.

So for now I’m sticking to no social media.

Well, I scroll through Reddit.

But barely comment.

And never post.

I need to give myself time before a Facebook adventure I think.

It’s just hard to sit here and think about everyone I don’t talk to anymore.

Because of my reactions to something they said or did.

Which looking back, didn’t actually happen.

They were so confused by my aggression I didn’t hear that they didn’t know what I was talking about.

I was blind to all of it.

At least now I have better tools.

I can’t unlearn all of this bullshit about myself.

And now I have the chance to use it to help me for once.

So that’s what I’m trying to do.

– Keren