How do you know when you are being an idiot and when you are just being who you are? Which might well be an idiot!
Does being an arsehole come with a set of guidelines?
I think I am paranoid; overthinking , too easily concerned with what others think about me , but sometimes , I do wonder, well , maybe I am just an arsehole?
As the rain buckets down outside on this mild British winter Saturday eve and I nurse a slight headache still , from too much prosecco , after celebrating my 43rd birthday last night . I sit and wonder why , at this grand old age , do I still get bombarded with thoughts and ideas that something I said or did , would have offended someone, or made them like me less. And then similarly berate myself for being bothered about the fact that they might!
I don’t know. They say people with ADHD are given 20,000 more negative messages by the time they are 12 than the average person. I think , as a child I was always pissing people off, either with my ‘bull in china shop’ approach, my clumsiness or my lack of impulse control or adversely , my naturally empathic character which just got too involved in things , felt too hard, loved too hard, cried too hard.
I remember when I was around 7 or 8 , I would sit in my bed , and scream , scream blue murder for my father to come up and kiss me goodnight. He would sit stoically downstairs ignoring me , I don’t know why he did this, whether it is just one memory of one night but I sense that it was more common. I think , he just couldn’t handle the intensity of this demanding little girl who just had a relentlessness to her. He didn’t know how to love me, so he froze.
I really reach out to my childhood self in those moments. She was desperate for something . My father loved me , adored me , I was his only daughter , but like a lot of men from that era, he came from a home devoid of emotion . And there was I , emotional to the core.
I think that is what gets me now, I am highly strung (so an old boyfriend once said) , I laugh loud, I cry noisily ; allowing tears to stream down my face , I dance with utter disregard for appropriateness and have had addictions with pretty much most things throughout my life. .. . And so when I let myself just be me, I suffer with doubt and shame . I fight it , don’t get me wrong. I am good at fighting it. I fight to be me and often win – but lately , I have been Me, a lot. I came back after a long period of conformity and it seems that conforming held some boundaries for me. It kept me safe. But it was just restraining the natural me , it wasn’t changing her.