I have changed.

So, is anyone else just totally disappointed with how they've turned out? 

I never thought I'd be the person I am right now, in regards to so many various categories of personality, behavior, thought patterns, etc., and I sometimes find myself just deep down a spiral of thinking that leaves me nearly breathless at how unhappy I am with myself. I don't recognize this person, I am regularly befuddled by how I got here, and I don't know how or if I ever can recover a lot of the good, positive things in myself that for so long I thought were just part of the given, standard, Bailey package. 

The vast majority of my thoughts are negative.

I am extremely hard on myself, and others. I judge others' situations and actions immediately, without a benefit of the doubt, without grace, without nuance, and use it as fuel to feed my already out-of-control jealousy and bitterness. 

It's bad. It's rough, and I don't know if it can be fixed, or if any of this mental poison can be lanced from my system, any of this deep trauma reversed. Moreover, I feel this emotional trauma is almost entirely self-inflicted, so it doesn't feel possible to make things better for myself if that same self is the one who brought all this on. How can a person who is broken be trusted to think and behave in ways that will make herself unbroken? A toaster that's gone awry and now chars bread even on its lightest setting can't be expected to suddenly start heating things more evenly, can it? 

It's interesting that a toaster metaphor came into my head just now, as I have referenced my internal wiring in discussions about these changes that have occurred in me over the past handful of years, on the rare occasion when I have discussed some of these things with people. 

One thing that seems to have undergone a major shift within me is my social self. Personality tests, people who know me, and I myself just of course assumed that I was an extrovert since always, basically. I mean I'm not shy. My self-consciousness levels have always been way lower than the average person (we've all seen my non-matching, not stylish outfits, and heard me just blabber on about whatever, whenever, wherever). I've experienced several times what I describe as a "high" that occurs when I talk specifically to strangers. Like, that's just straight up uncommon, I think. So of course, I'm an extrovert, right? How could I not be?

In recent years I've come to think that maybe I'm not actually an extrovert, and at least one therapist has been comfortable to declare such about me, as I require a lot of by-myself time to recharge. (I also at least used to gain energy by interacting with people, so this distinction of intro vs. extrovert is still a mystery that is being worked out.) I have always needed my alone time, and find great peace and joy in sitting-at-home-alone activities such as reading, cross stitching, smooching on the cat -- this has always been true, we're talking since I was 10 years old these hobbies have not changed. So I can accept the argument (with some adjustment still, of course) that I'm an introvert, and sorta kinda move past the idea that I don't fit into this extrovert label, because meh, it's just a label and I've always kind of been my own category of a person anyway, ha.

What has been so hard, and difficult to comprehend is how I now feel in situations with people. Things I thought were for sure hard-wired within me (see? I was going somewhere with the toaster/electricity thing) seem to not in fact be a guarantee, and it has sent me reeling. Up until about five years ago, I loved getting together with people and by and large didn't like to miss any birthday party or happy hour or what have you. I was filled with genuine joy when I had the opportunity to talk with friends old and brand-new, to tell my gal pals how beautiful and wonderful they are, to plan surprise parties and bachelor/ette parties, to hug and squeeze hands and hold eye contact and giggle and cry and get real and dance from the shoulders up on our bar stools. 

It was life-giving, almost always, and now it's rare when I walk away from something thinking, "That was fun," "I had a good time," or "It was really nice to talk to that person." There's always so much riding on any given social situation now; I set the bar so high (to make up for past disappointment so strong) that the event and people in attendance can't ever satisfy.

***

Today, I frequently have to put in all my energy to gear myself up to attend any sort of party. I get so nervous about how I will feel, if I will be standing alone, if I will have to insert myself into conversations (knowing I absolutely don't want to do so -- chit chatting until recently was always one of my favorite activities and came so naturally, so it's infuriating that it now feels like work or has the potential to make me uncomfortable). Before, during, and after social events, I almost inevitably feel left out in some way, to some degree, feeling not included or involved enough, or sometimes just not invited in the first place. It feels pathetic, embarrassing, childish. 

And yet. 

Here we are. 

I've known and owned for decades at this point that I am too sensitive for my own good. But am I really that selfish that unless I am the center of attention or regarded as the best friend, the life of the party, if I am not missed when I am absent from a gathering, that it's not worth attending that gathering and my wounded ego will reduce itself to all-or-nothing thoughts that I therefore must not be considered a friend at all, and I should just consider these people acquaintances and give up?

I didn't think so, for a long time. I thought I was more thoughtful than that, able to tell myself "it's not about me" and hear that and let it register within my emotional bloodstream, making me stronger and less petty, freeing me to be the kinder and more thoughtful friend I most often knew myself to be.

Now I'm really not so sure. 

I avoid going to get-togethers, particularly group activities beyond more than a one-on-one interaction or a double date. I find excuses not to go -- something I never, ever did before. On the contrary, I was always the least self-conscious person within a group and could be happily thrown into a situation where I was meeting all new people. Offhand, I can think of at least two occasions in the last few years when I have gotten dressed, put on makeup, picked up a six pack to share at an event, driven all the way there, parked, and...driven back home, never to even enter the party. 

I sit there in my car and run through what it will be like to walk in to someone's apartment or condo and I decide, ultimately: Nope. I picture walking into a space full of conversations already in progress between people I don't feel connected to or close with, snaking my way through the crowd to find the host, I hear them say "Hi!" and pull me into a hug and then feel the situation immediately deflate, without any real friendly air in there to begin with. 

I picture people, in more alcoholically "lubricated" situations, yelling "Bailey!", then hugs, then...nothing. No true connection, nothing else to say to each other, no one asking me how I am or if they do ask, then I don't want to answer honestly. Because that answer would be: "I feel totally left out! You guys hang out all the time and I see it on social media and I am just here once in a blue moon and I feel totally out of place and self conscious and I hate it!!! I wish I knew all of you better and that you liked me more and that you cared to get to know me and that I didn't feel like an add-on invitation to your guest list. I wish I didn't feel like an afterthought and that I weren't so jealous of your home, your body, your youthful skin, your better-paying job, your contentment, your..."

[The weakest fake smile I can muster on my face. Say I have to pee so I can exit the situation as quickly as I entered it.]

***

I was a better person before, a better friend for sure. I have always been inclined to feeling left out, but I also used to be genuinely thoughtful and kind. I made time for people, stayed on the phone for long periods to listen as they talked through things, wrote emails and cards, felt deeply for what my friends were going through and made a point to make them feel seen, understood, loved and valued. For years I've had a lot of friends, and it occurred to me just this very week that while I still may have a lot of friends, I just don't feel like I have a lot of active friendships. I feel wounded, and don't know where to go from here; licking my wounds of friendships faded (whether it's their fault or mine or no one's) hurts like hell, but also -- now what? Having retreated from relationships in ways I never thought I would has deeply changed me. This unexpected, albeit gradual, change has left me lost, feeling stuck, and quite ashamed. 

I don't think I am fully 100 percent a monster, but monster-ish thoughts about myself definitely win out and overshadow a lot of other would-be positive, helpful, healing thoughts. 

***

I think about posting this -- and I probably will -- and I see some adults who have known me since childhood feeling very upset when they read this. I think about my current peers thinking, "Wow, Bailey is not a very nice person and it seems she needs things to be all about her. I'm not sure I want to spend time with her anymore, particularly if she might think that I don't care about her or give her enough attention. What a whiny baby."

That all may be true. I don't like it if that's true or if that will happen. But I guess I just want to say some honest things, get them out there in the universe, see if maybe it lances some of that emotional poison from within me. Like I mentioned above, I do by and large blame myself for having become this negative, bitter, emotionally stunted (or emotionally fried?) person, even if my brain always go to snap judgments and wants to actually blame my bitterness on other people not being kind or thoughtful enough (or for being prettier and more successful than I am, you know who you are :). My knee-jerk reaction these days is to blame others who seem happier than I am for why I feel less happy, but ultimately I blame myself for not being a more mature person capable of growth and humbly accepting the larger picture of life and at least attempting to believe that people are trying to do their best and be kind. And while neither quadrant of blame is enjoyable at all, the latter is much more punishing, I assure you. 

If you need me, I'll be navel gazing, cross stitching, reading, and cuddling this angel cat who has been curled up against me for this whole typing session. 

I am also going to try and get out for a run/walk/hike or do a weight lifting workout today, as I do have at least one mentally well thing going for me and that is that I know the power of physical fitness to ease my mind and have made it a priority and a habit. I am able to find gratitude for that. 

I hope some of this damage in me can be reversed. In many ways, I really liked the Bailey I was before. And I hope if my damage has damaged the relationship between you and me, whoever's reading this, I hope that can be fixed, too.