by rustymailboxes » Fri Aug 25, 2006 5:23 pm
The pics I've seen of me as baby; I looked awful happy to be around folks. I look at them pics now and long for that delighted smile to crack across my face once again, long for all the nice feelings behind it.
Off to nursery school I was sent. I remember horror. It can be argued I was sent there prematurely, corroborating the nurture causation position. I won't bore u with my list of tales, covering the years of nursery school and kindergarten.
Persistent malaise prompted me to speak with a therapist sometime mid-high-school, 9-10 grade. I masked well in this one to one setting, leading the therapist to ask, on my third or fourth visit, "Why are you here?" I answered, "I don't know." With that, I discontinued our sessions.
Senior year, high school (1985-86), sought counseling once again. Now this practitioner suggested I might have a schizoid personality condition, explaining the minor details of said condition. He did not weigh heavily on the matter however. I don't think I had any more sessions with him thereafter.
I discovered the medicinal benefits of cannabis and alcohol. For about a decade, I felt pretty normal. I could relate with other people. The stupid $#%^ they always said, over and over, made perfect sense to me...how could I have missed the logic all these years?
As is so often the case, greater and greater quantities of my medicines were required for the desired effect, 'till one day the effect had become so elusive that no amount of illicit chemicals could recapture it.
My old self was forcing through. Oh boy, that pissed me off, to no end.
So, now I do AA and MA, and the same old $#%^ goes through my head and heart every time I gotta deal with people, just like I'm in nursery school again. I thought, if I go to these meetings, be honest, do the steps, talk to people, etc etc, I'll get over this social thing, being "socially retarded" my wife calls it (nice).
No luck.
Yesterday, at work, out back in the warehouse where we can smoke, I got to thinking again about my self. Trying to put my finger on this thing. I had a vision...no, not like that...like a poetic manifestation of my heart. It's like this:
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I am standing.
A throng of people, everyone, in the distance, before me.
I am looking at their backs.
They are walking, off somewhere.
I am not moving.
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So I finished my smoke, got back to my desk and computer, and set out to find out about this Schizoid Personality Disorder I'd been likened to some 20 years back.
Google, google. Click, click.
There I was. Me. I was described, outlined, pinpointed. Right there on the WWW. No need for me ever to have been born, I exist entirely already, within a diagnosis.
Hi, my name is Dave.