Partying party

Once I wrote about politics I thought this is it, there’s nothing more that I’d say regarding the subject, but somehow now it seems to me like an inexhaustible topic.

I hate poverty. It makes people with no criteria even more desperate and even less hesitating.

My aunt (my mother’s sister) and her husband, my uncle are in the same political party. One day last week I got an invitation from their daughter to come to a closed type party at a local club. I don’t know the exact square surface, but it is on two levels. It is quite big. There’d be some famous band singing, but I’m not quite a fan so I told her that I’ll think about it. In the meantime I’ve met my uncle who told me: “Listen, I’ve got two tickets for Friday night party, it’s for our people only.”

So I got it right, the party is partying. So they tried to trick me, to come there, have some “good” time and then they’d start bugging me until one of us dies to join them.

They do what they do, but what I hate is that fact that one of my closest relatives looks at me as I’m some kind of a score. She’d probably get some good points for me, besides she thinks it is the right decision and besides she asked me nothing about it.

I remember why she joined. By her story, they blackmailed her to join or otherwise she’d loose her job. But it seems like she forgot it. Or simply it never happened as she told us. She believes that people who are willing to do anything, who are less educated and less successful, who can harm other people because they have no limits and they’d do anything for money are good for me, the one who spent 6 years studying how to help others, who speaks three languages and appreciates good will, effort and equality above all. I have flaws but those people disguise me. And what hurts me is how my closest relatives underrate me. She wants to push me in it, without asking me anything. She wants me to do the job for the party which includes lies, scams and blackmails; sharing leaflets on the streets and convincing people that it is good to join it. In return I’d get three months of paid job under contract in local health center. This is what I mean when I say that young people are humiliated in this country. They left us nothing and it is not enough still, they want us to be even more degraded. But my aunt thinks it looks like it should. And that it is the right thing.

In her position, I’d keep my children and my closest relative’s children aside, they don’t have to step in politics if they don’t want to; I’d care for their qualities and remind them every day how good they are. Instead, I got silent condemnations how I shouldn’t be that enthusiastic about leaving this country.

I don’t want to. Can’t you see? Do you think that I’d be happy in some foreign country where there’s none of my closest people? Where there’s no one I could rely on to? Why do you do this to us, why?  We are all your children. You force us to leave. You leave us unfair options. I don’t want some molesting, uneducated bully to tell me what to do, but if it is what you offer me, I’d better leave. Elsewhere I might not know anyone but they’d probably appreciate me more objectively. I hate this people. We are the country, the government, the institutions. There’s no need to blame some illusive term such as one of these I mentioned because the people are those to blame. Our adults are those to blame. Why do you do this to us?

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Synchro

I believe that the most suitable form to be is to be average. When you’re average you fit in perfectly. People around you don’t have much problems understanding you. You use basic words and sentencesn so expressing yourself is quite usual and others perceive you in a range totally understandable to themselves without cutting your parts of own expression off and partially getting what you just said. Simplified – you fit precisely in other people’s frame.

When I was a kid my mother brought me up pretty strictly. I was always forbidden to speak. Whenever I tried to comment something or to express my own opinion I would be criticized and immediately quieten. I understood it as “everything you say is wrong”.

My parents signed me in kindergarten at very young age, I think I was about 4. I didn’t get along good with all those children. Most of them were uninteresting to me, even intrusive.

During elementary school I’ve had a communication issue. I wouldn’t talk. When teacher asked me something in front of the whole class I would answer in a silent tone. In other situations when no one asked me anything I’d be just quiet. Why should I speak if I had nothing to say? So I was recognized in class as someone who can’t speak. “There’s that girl who can’t speak.” “She’s clumsy that’s why she has nothing to say” “She’s stupid, stupid kids don’t speak” etc. So my teacher recognized the problem and talked to my mother about it, so “they two could fix it (me)”. That teacher was “not-for-people person”. Even her adult colleagues jibed at her and her older son tried to commit a suicide some years after. So yes, they built up my self esteem. Somehow I got over social anxiety and managed those speaking skills, although it was still present. And still is. I’m kind of afraid of people and their reaction, even in older age.

I lived through elementary school and somehow got a bit used on it, but it was soon over. The new challenge was high school. In the beginning it was of course awful. I lightly knew only three persons in my new class. And of course some people didn’t like me. At that time I was a boy. I didn’t put any make up. I wore comfy clothes. I lived trough people issues again. It was better than elementary school experience.

As I’ve said in my earlier posts, the highest recognition I felt in Capitol. During that part of my life I’ve met all kinds of people, but the most valuable thing was understanding I found. It is completely fine to think and say and do that in front of people who’ll listen to you and (try) to get your point instead of exclude you as some weirdie.

The thing about social phobias is that they are partially inherited and partially shaped by surrounding you’re in. At least one of your parents is constantly convincing you that you shouldn’t speak because you’ll: offend someone, be rude, represent yourself in a bad manner by whatever you say. That is because someone taught THEM the same thing and now they’re doing it to you with an addition of sharp criticism. Being silent isn’t equal being polite. And continuously showing that pattern in front of strangers you communicate to you send one clear message: “it doesn’t matter what I say, all that matters is what you say, I’ll say nothing” and they accept it and accept you as someone transparent so your phobia is even more intense.

People live their whole lives with it. Can that kill you?

My mother has the same problem. She does people related job. She never speaks out but keeps it in herself. She suffered severe autoimmune disease last year. She’s better now but her lifestyle changed. Except personal expression and communication. She kept that unchanged in order, again, not to offend anyone. She taught me that. Never say anything to anyone but stand quiet. And one major phenomenon that shaped my mother’s personality was also her mother and her sisters. Most of the time they criticize her and they have lack of understanding for her although she’s their closest relative. And on the other hand, she never countered.

I’ve had troubles with getting rid of that standard. So my aunts now often call me rude and impolite.

Which one is worse – saying nothing and letting it kill you or say all the stuff that’s on your mind and letting that kill you?

Both.

It is normal and humane to be kind to others and respect their thoughts and emotions. In order with that you must find a suitable way and the right words to express yourself and by that not to offend the other one. So nothing is black and white. The trouble is that, by my personal statistics only a small percentage of people respect others and treat them in a neutral, really socially acceptable way. And you must find a way to talk with that kind of people also. And of course not offending them either.

Communication is a challenge. It is even more challenging when you have an inner struggle. Finding yourself and finding your own place is the only solution to get yourself together and consolidate your own ideas and attitudes. Others will get along with it or they don’t, but either way it is pointless winking at the blind man.

Don’t hesitate, speak out. As an introvert you observed and saw lots of things that others couldn’t. You have so much to say. Even more brilliant stuff than other louder people would ever shout about.

 

To speak out or to sneak out?

It is almost a year now since I moved back to my cosy, little hometown. I spent six years in a place which gave me full freedom to seek myself, find it and express it in a very own way. That place hugged me, as the lyrics of a famous folk song describe.

I remember stepping on its grounds seven years ago. As an average kid from province I couldn’t believe that there’s a place on Earth like this. Messy, crowded, noisy, with beggers on every corner. I cried for my countryside. I thought this place would never accept me. But the show went on. I was a mess, although I wasn’t quite aware of it and at the same time – bigoted! When you’re a kid, they tell you what’s good and you keep following it.

Anyway, I’ve met all kinds of people: odd, talented, beautiful, sharp, dominant, stupid, regressive, silly, eccentric, different from everything I have ever seen by then. But those six years were also full of love, expectations, understanding, hate, misery, heartbreaks, stresses, exploration, separating and new personal inventions. I knew that city had truly accepted me when I felt free to speak out and present myself as someone different than I used to be before,  loudly and freely without any doubts or fears that I could be abandoned, criticized, marked and rejected. I did whatever I want because it had sense. It had clear sense to me. And the relationship I had with this city was the best I’ve ever had. The city is the one who said to me: “I love what you’ve become.”

And me of course… I love what you gave me.

I am a dancer. As I said in my first post, I always go round. And I’m not just a dancer, I am also a doctor. It is not the title that makes me so proud, really. It appeared that anyone who’s enough stubborn can become one. Without any other qualities. I used to be a lot, but these two I’ll keep as my personal badges, my two selves, one old and one new, different, merged in my present self.

About this time of the year I came back home bringing heaviness in my chests. But no matter what, that’s how it is. I kept carrying out myself the way I liked, the way the city loved me and the way I loved myself. I promised I’ll keep in touch with the city and my favourite people who are still living there. I promised I won’t give up my pole dancing classes. But after a while, I felt what distance feels like and that it is not that easy now to manage all the promises.

My old-new surrounding started pushing me a bit. My parents kept repeating me that I’m a doctor now. Although, I can’t suit in that role completely. I don’t even like when people call me a doctor. Soon I should start seeking for a job right here. I came back to the place where I was born, where everyone I’ve known since I was a kid live, where people I used to see in the streets but never met them personally live, where all my old loves and crushes live, where all my friends and their friends, and friends of their friends live… Somehow everyone knows who I am. At least they’ve heard. They were all around me, but still it happened to me that I began loosing people. Lonely surrounded.

The first shocking act of rejection was made by my very old friend. That rejection started some time earlier, but emerged that night. I came in that place wearing myself as I always do. I was in a company of three people, we’ve had a great time, music was brilliant, vine was tasty … and so was my cigarette! It passed less than a minute when I received a threatening message saying: “leave that cigarette at instant!” At the moment, I was a bit confused, since I’ve never faced a situation like this before. There were several questions that bothered me related to that kind of acting:

  1. I’ve got a message filled with this kind of content from a person who is not here, who was invited to be here, but turned it down as if I was some irrelevant marginal person
  2. Why so heavily writing and so harsh if I’m not doing anything to you, since you’re not here?
  3. How do YOU know, since again, you’re not here?

I didn’t have to look around much since two tables far there was sitting “a friend of friend” – person. I replied politely: “what was going on?” since I had no idea what else to reply. Couple of minutes later a cell-phone-long-distance argument was set up. By the acting of my spy I saw that they two were collaborating (?!) sharing screenshots of a conversation I had with my friend. As the argument progressed many disgusting  stuff unrolled, lies and told secrets. I realized that the person who I’ve known for a decade, almost half of my life, striped my being bare naked in front of an audience who have known not so much about me, until then and represented me as a less worthy.  I felt a cocktail of emotions, but the thing that defeated me the most was my own reaction. I should have just let it go, as if I never received it and end that fellowship in a more suitable way. But no, I told her: “stay away.” And so she did. She never called neither messaged anymore. Not even tried to fix it up, to bring it to some more civilized level where we could at least say: “hi” one to another when we pass by in the street.

I fell into a trap. Like I’m some kind of a badger. I fell into a trap and degraded myself hidden under the idea of integrity defense.

People are people. They will always make idiotic moves. What moved me in this situation is the fact that I’m still growing. I need to tie up my emotions and become a real adult from the inside. I need to learn a lot. I need to conquer a lot. I need to get the communication right. I need to raise. And the thing that scares me the most is that I’ll drown in this place and become same as everyone here, that I’ll fail, that they’ll convince me that I am wrong and that they are right.

In order to protect my personality, my thoughts and believes I signed up for language lessons. Those lessons were the days in the week when I sat down for an hour and a half with people who have had the same goals – to be better and to succeed. That kept my mind and soul together.

And constant suppression, it is not the cigarette, it is also the dance, the hair, the speech I’m using. The words I’m saying, the sentences I’m making, they call me odd, often they don’t understand a single word of my story, but then they freely conclude that I’m offending them. In the politest case they call me different. They don’t appreciate my tolerance and comprehension; it is categorized as something bad, useless and characteristic of the weak.

That night, I was that cigarette. It represented all I was. It’s an ugly habit. But more than a cigarette then was ugly.

I quitted  smoking couple of months ago. Not because of others, it’s just not my vice. But I’ll profoundly cherish the rest of my deviations. Or finally just sneak out…