It seems really strange to me how much time I spend explaining.
Misunderstanding.
Thinking people are mad at me.
Being sad about how I think they feel about something I think I did or said that upset them. Maybe. Or chastising myself for being a nutcase for worrying about things I only imagine.
I always feel like I’m so clear. When I talk, anyway.
Or maybe people really are just mad at me all the time. Or disappointed, sad or any of the dozens of other things I credit them with being.
Would that be better or worse, I wonder?
There are only a few people I would be able to state it to so baldly if I did think they were…not right with me in some way. Most people would look at me funny and respond with a monosyllable, which would make me even more worried. Which is really probably a sensible response to my crazy. I can only think of one person who not only would get it if I asked her if she was mad at me for no reason but would also respond as if my concerns were not insane at all. Thanks, Sharon, for being that person.
This is the sort of conversation I imagine myself being able to have:
“Hey, did I say or do something to piss you off/make you sad/anxious or otherwise upset the other day?”
“No, why”
“No reason. You said “nice” in response to something I said, and I assumed that you meant it sarcastically and hate me/are mad/sad/frustrated.”
“No, we’re good. Thanks for checking.”
“And thank you for answering me when I’m crazy.”
Wouldn’t it be nice?
In a totally non-Beach Boys kind of way?
Brian Wilson wouldn’t have had to spend nearly as much time in bed if he’d been able to just get the crazy stuff in his head out of his head.
Having such a good imagination can be a challenge at times.