Ooh, what a long hiatus.
Had a very thought-provoking conversation with my mom recently (which is rare, since we usually just argue about her being forgetful), in essence pondering on “Who hurt you (me)?”. I don’t blame her, and I do agree with many of her observations. I think and act in odd ways, usually suggestive of emotional trauma. I don’t care much for normal social interactions such as going out with friends or parties – I actively avoid them and find them a chore. I’ve developed a selfish streak – its not so much of me being an asshole or not looking out for others but I’ve very little fucks to give regarding other people’s unsolicited opinions on what I believe are personal matters. Of course many personal things aren’t actually personal and do impact the lives of the people around you but….I’ve enough of trying to cater to other people in these aspects. I can’t be bothered about so many things: I find little joy in luxury goods (which is probably a good thing more so than not); I don’t see a big deal illness and death (everyone dies, I’ll die one day and so will you and everyone you love, cry me a river) et cetera, not to mention my brief stint with an eating disorder.
My mom’s hypothesis was that something traumatic happened to me in at some point in my adolescence that lead to this personality shift over the years, as she recounts my younger years fondly (“You used to be so friendly, and so sweet to everyone around you. What went wrong?!?”). After all, natural introversion is one thing, but my behavior seems to be developed in recent years, probably triggered self-defense mechanisms in response to inter-relationship trauma where now such non-nonchalant attitude can serve like a (cliched) brick wall around my heart protecting me from other people hurting my feelings.
I wanted to tell her that I grew up and life happened, but she also had 31 more years of life on me and didn’t seem half as jaded so it didn’t feel like a good comeback.
So I tried to think if any shitty thing(s) happened to me. Growing up as a fat kid, its inevitable to get some kind of flak for it…but nothing traumatic or particularly memorable even. Friendships over the years wax and wane, nothing to shout about either. Even the worst things weren’t anything a quick cry or a long rant couldn’t solve (I think some of the rants were even in this blog in the earlier posts! Wow, I’m getting old), so the usual teenager drama bullshit. I’ve been blessed to live comfortably middle-class, no familial whoo-hah like divorce or abuse, with our worst brush with the law being a speeding ticket. I’ve never even went through the trauma of heartbreak, for goodness sake. My life is so NORMAL. I can’t fathom a reason why I’m such a weary human being now.
Eventually Mom and I decided that we may never know – and left it at that.
I think it would be nice to know who/what did hurt me.
Maybe having something to blame would make me feel better about myself, and that I’m not an inherently nasty, unempathetic asshole, just ~traumatized~ and a ~broken soul~.