You Are Not Alone

My car was sliding on ice and off the highway and I thought about my heart rate and realized that wasn’t the best use of my mental efforts during that time, and chastised myself, the ADHD, questioned ADHD’s existence, and back to blaming myself for poorly timed self awareness before the car stopped spinning. I turned on my hazards so the car behind me didn’t hit me.

Dogs are so simple. Sometimes I envy the trees.

I remember wondering what it would be like to be blind. I can’t close my eyes and be blind, that’s different. Trees don’t see the backs of their eyelids like I do.

I remember watching the 2am trees Christmas Morning 1993, too excited to sleep. They were blue and swaying. I wondered if they knew it was Christmas, I wondered if they knew they were cold, I wondered if they knew I was watching them. I wondered if they were watching me. I put my hand under my bed and tried to imagine seeing without eyes, but I knew I wouldn’t understand.

What is anxiety?
That's a real question.
I want to know.

They say children don't develop an ego until about 7.
Before then, instead of “I am sad” it’s just “SAD!”
Instead of “I want that” it’s just “THAT!”

A guy once, at a conference I was speaking at, said I was the most self aware person he’s ever talked to. I was surprised at how seen that made me feel.
I don’t feel seen often.
This is me trying.  

They said I have anxiety and I believed them but I didn’t want to do anything about it so they left me alone.

When I was a kid, I used to call it “The Story”
I would tell people, in 3rd grade, that I write stories in my head. And I bounce back and forth between the actor and the author. I would tell that that I think I am spending more time as the author because the actor keeps checking in to make sure everything is ok.

Is that anxiety?

I started getting nervous about how often I would notice my own existence. But, even more, when I asked the other 4th graders about the authors in their heads, and no one had much to say on the topic.

I didn’t know how concerned I was supposed to be with fitting in with everyone else. I was trying to figure out how I fit in with own mind.

I stopped asking them within a few months.
I guess this is an attempt to ask again.

Last week, the girl was dancing at the concert, to a bouncy sounding song about suicide.
God, she annoyed me. “Do you even know what this song is about?”
But who is happier, her or me?
Her and her also dancing boyfriend, taking selfies, numb to the intensity of the moment.
I was alone.

I wish they never told me I was smart. Don’t tell children that.
I looked around at all the other kids, and finally understood why the rest of the world wasn’t like me, but now the only thing more scary than my own mind is needing people.

I used to talk to the people who were running my version of The Truman Show.
I wish I’d not seen that movie when I was 10.
I remember being certain of absolutely nothing except that I am alone.

But this helps.

“I have been told sometimes the most healing thing we can do is remind ourselves over, and over, and over, other people feel this too.”
-Andrea Gibson

So,  I think about you when I’m afraid to share this.
I see you.