Character construction
Apparently there are people who know me who think I’m stable (insane, but stable). Well! I cannot tell if I am delighted or horrified. It’s nice, of course, but it feels very odd. I mean, I often figure how well I’m doing by how long it’s been since my last sustained non-PMS suicidal period. (Like, actively considering, not just idle imagining.) Is this a hallmark of stability? So it seems!
But I am incredibly unlikely to commit suicide (now, finally), so maybe it’s fair. (Of course, I had to explain before why I’m not really stable, and it really is remarkable how horrified people are when you talk about being or having been suicidal. Not horrified in the “I will never talk to you again” way, perhaps in the “I cannot believe I did not know” way. Yes, I did realise I should leave grad school by the frequency with which I was having suicidal ideation. People don’t know because I don’t tell them, and work very hard at not having them know.)
The question — and a fair one — do I want people to think I’m stable (no, look, here are all the reasons I am nuts! Now you should hate me. I am sorry I told you; I am sorry you did not sleep after; I am fine; I am not worth that kind of worry. But all that aside, I am stable, for some meanings thereof)? I guess it depends what that means. When it means unlikely to stop functioning entirely, unlikely to have a meltdown: this is true. And mostly I want people to think I am fine and normal, not worried about what to say in front of me — but also, I want to think people like me because of or despite of who I am and have been, not to be (too much of?) a liar, especially to my friends. I’m just, um, careful about what I do or don’t say, heavy on the don’t. Which poses problems, with the wondering if people actually like me or some careful construction of me. I also wonder about this blog: how does what I write compare with me as a person? I know I play up some things, to imagine who I could be or avoid who I don’t want to be, play down others for the same reasons. Calling this fiction isn’t exactly wrong, but also, not exactly right.
Is it fair to be a character in your own story? What do I want to be seen or imagined as? Who do I want to be? Despite being sad now, I’m also not.
August 27th, 2005 at 12:16 am
I don’t think anyone sees themself in the same way others do. It’s not always obvious whose vision is clearer though. I dunno, you’ve probably blogged more of your feelings here than you tell your friends, but you certainly seem pretty normal to me (for whatever normal means and whatever the opinion of a stranger is worth). As you say, there are wide ranges of degree and definition though.
August 27th, 2005 at 11:05 am
Others’ perception of the “together me” was (yet another) subject I covered when I did cognitive therapy a few years ago. I still remember my therapist saying that I appeared to be such a competent and objective person that she assumed people routinely looked to me, and my agreeing but also saying, now you see, you think I’m up to the task, too, when at the time, I felt that I was anything but. I remember feeling like this incredible frustration that my external image so belied the internal turmoil.
As far as the blog personae, I think it’s unavoidable that despite even consciouis efforts to be as “honest” about who we really are, we all cultivate certain aspects of personality. We choose what we talk about adn some of us (like me) just flat-out delete stuff we write that we decide we don’t want the world to know, after all.
PS I got your postcard and the boys LTAO. It was my first “blogcard.” I am glad it was from you. :)
August 27th, 2005 at 11:30 am
On the one hand, it’s nice that people think one is competent and capable and together. On the other hand, it’d be nice if their thinking so did not also feel like a denial of your own reality.
There’s no useful objective measure for these things. But maybe you really are more emotionally able when working on shared projects or interacting with others than you are otherwise. Other people are terribly distracting.
August 27th, 2005 at 6:24 pm
Well, there are a lot of things I do not blog here (I do have some limits), and my good friends do know most of what I write here. Well, some of them. Probably in the broadest definitions of normal, I count; in the narrowest, not so much.
Michelle, once I (was actually very happy but) broke down and started sobbing because of stress, and people were *shocked*, and I thought, wow, how could they not know. But it turned out, I was thinking the same about someone else, who was feeling much like me.
I make no real claims about honesty here. I’m not lying about anything, but that’s not quite the same. But I often don’t know the truth, so.
And I am so glad you got the card(s?). I hope they weren’t smudged too much, cause they got rained all over.
Pericat, I have no idea if I am more able when with friends. (I am sure I am more when at work.) It is, in a disturbing way, only when with people that I ever cry. (I almost never cry. But only when with people. Or at movies or stuff. It’s not manipulative, it just seems that way.)
I’m sure it doesn’t really matter, it just sort of surprises me. Also, of course, I am often shocked that people do not realise what the scars I have are. But then, why would they? I forget what things count as normal.
August 28th, 2005 at 10:23 am
wolfangel — I just wanted to say I struggle with the same thing. Even people who are closest to me, which should know more of me, still see me as being so confident and competent, and don’t believe me when I try to assert otherwise. Although I am glad I project such an image, I wish that there were more people who see me as I truly am, as it makes it such that when I express anxiety or doubt about something, people don’t take it seriously. But, I worry that if I *really* showed people how insecure and screwed up I am, they’d never remember my competent part (and would become overwlemed by my self-doubt).