Many people know I’m pretty happy, (even silly with close friends) but to some this may come as a surprise with these confessions of late. These confessions are not about saying I am that, they are about discovering me (more about that in Confession 8), because truth is I am happier than I have been in a long time.
WM and I *FINALLY* got our timing right.
I have wonderful friends (to all of you thank you!!).
And I have the courage to build better relationships and step away from those who are out to harm rather than mutually build.
I have two wonderful English Cockers, a lab rott and a black cat, and they are mostly wonderful. The cocker puppy is a little bed hog.
Lately I’ve had work. Thank you Denise Griffitts, Andy Grant, Brian, and some others. Making money and paying bills is a good thing.
And I love what I do mostly. I’d love to have a bit more work. And I’d love to become an author. I just haven’t been writing like I should to become that author. (more about that in another confession).
There have been some people who have told me saying anything less than happy on FB is bad. I realized today, if I asked these same people if lying was acceptable they would say it is not. So I guess lying on Facebook is acceptable?
So yes, I am honest in how I feel on Facebook. Besides which, Facebook is already like looking at all the best things of everyone. Why should I lie, when I can be real and maybe make a difference?
Just the facts.
I have always been a wee bit uptight and serious.
At 4, my granddad gave me a coin to throw in a wish fountain at the hospital. He said something like wish your grandmother better and to come home. I don’t remember my words, but they were along the lines of, she’ll get better but she isn’t coming home, said in a factual manner. I remember his face. He was shocked.
She died sometime after, and he remarried shortly after that. And at 8 or 9 I told my parents that I didn’t want my brother (he was 3 or 4) around them (Grandad and his wife). I felt he was not safe. They listened. My parents and I don’t remember why I felt this way, but they were glad that I had told them.
Since I always study, both in my youth and now, I tend to spit out facts. As an adult I work to control it. The dyslexia keeps me from spitting out math answers, and frankly I’m trying to figure out if you said 9-5-4 or 5-9-4 or maybe it was …
And if you ask what I do, I try to figure out how to answer the question on your level, and not get overly excited. If I get excited, I’ll start spitting out facts about websites, SEO, design, social media. So I try to watch for your eyes to glaze over, but sometimes you and I are both just riders in that fact filled train.
If you were to visit me while I am working you would probably think I am mad, or dislike what I do. I look extremely serious. In fact I inch ever closer to the screen until I am way closer than I should be, but this is how I’ve always been.
Why so serious?
I remember being in a child and asked, “Why don’t you smile?” This even happened when I was playing. If I had $100 for every person who told me to smile when I was a kid I’d have quite a bit in savings. (Let’s be honest a nickel isn’t much!)
These weren’t times when I was unhappy, but I looked serious. As I got a little older I learned to “lie” and smile no matter what I was feeling. Perhaps this is why it was so easy to stop having emotions.
I also got told not to “you don’t have to be rude,” or “why are you mad,” when I gave short answers. Then this lead to “you’re mad” “no, I’m not,” “Well, you sound it” “Well, I’m not…” “but, you are,” of course after a few rounds sure enough I was… thus I proved the person right. (fail)
Since I’ve become an adult I have wondered if maybe I’m autistic, and somehow give off the wrong vibe. Maybe this probably why I was so susceptible to people who used me, who used gaslighting techniques to deceive me.
Which actually leads into the next Confession. Confession 8 – These Confessions are surprising even me
- Confession 1 I have PTSD
- Confession 2 Trying Not to Hate Me
- Confession 3 I am mad at God
- Confession 4 Not entirely over anorexia
- Confession 5
- Confession 6 A Terrible Need for Affection