With Brains Like These, Who Needs Enemies?

There are two different kinds of people in the world: Those with high expectations and those without high expectations. High expectation people are simply people who...expect highly of everything. Some may describe these people as being critical or negative, but I don't think so at all. I think of it rather as attention to detail and not settling for less than the best, which is actually a really good thing. 

I have a lot of these high expectation people in my life. I think I'm drawn to them. I enjoy talking to them about how we think things should have been handled, how we think that house should have been decorated, how we think certain decisions that were made could have been better. I think some of my mother's side of the family is like this and that's how we get along is by discussing our "ideals" of the rest of the family.

The problem comes in that sometimes I begin to feel inadequate around these people. If they have these high expectations of others, what kind of expectations do they have for me? I become even more critical of myself in the company of these people because I want to be what they want, I want to act how they expect me to...I don't want them to go around telling others how I should have done things better. Sometimes when I mess up in my decisions or in my interactions with these people I walk away feeling almost worthless because I know them and their high expectation ways wouldn't do such a thing. 

Last week I was thinking about how I sometimes feel around all those high expectations people and I realized that's pretty much how I feel around myself.

All the sudden it hit me like a semi truck. I am a high expectation person. DUH! How could I have not known that?! I realized not only am I a high expectation person, I am THE high expectation person. I expect more highly of myself than any of my high expectation friends or family members combined!! 

I expect perfection and nothing less. If I help someone else and someone says "You are so sweet!" I immediately counter with "No I'm not." Because I don't think I am. If I was really sweet I would do nice things all the time. If I was really sweet, I wouldn't do all the not-sweet things I constantly do. I never tell myself I did good enough, because I never think I did. I'm not a good person and I know anyone who thinks otherwise simply doesn't know me well enough. This little voice in my head tells me, "you are nothing. You are no one. And you are going nowhere." And I believe it.

I need not worry about any of my well-meaning friends who simply have a more realisitc view of life. I already have the unreachable goal, unwinnable battle of meeting my own expectations. The bar for myself is set at perfection and nothing less will do. Second place is first loser, being nice sometimes does not constitute being a nice person and messing up every once in awhile is still messing up.

With a brains like these, who needs enemies?

What It Feels Like to Be Left By Another Person

It's not like any physical pain you've ever experienced. It's not like a broken bone or the way you feel after surgery or a car accident. It's not like having a stomach bug or a constant headache that won't go away or like having teeth pulled with no pain killers. It doesn't even compare to the death of a father, the loss of a pet, or moving from your childhood home. It's not like any of that for me. 

Being left is more like a tiny, quiet, constant, dripping faucet. It's consistant and unstoppable. It follows you wherever you go. In every room of the house, in every city on the continent you can still hear it in the background. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

It never, never goes away. It never stops, not for one second. Drip. Drip. Drip. You can plug your ears and you can turn a radio up loud, and you can burry your head under your pillow but you will swear the faucet moved right inside your ear. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. You can never fall into a deep sleep. You can never, ever hide from it. There is not one single place you can go to get away from it. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

You can go to a bar, you can get blackout drunk, you can have sex with whomever you please, you can run away, you can post pictures of you having "so much fun!" on your facebook to try and prove you are okay, but it's still there. The moment your friends leave, the moment the sun sets, the moment you sober up, the moment you open your eyes, it's there. Drip. Drip. It's louder than thunder and stronger than any wind you have ever felt. DRIP.

You can't ever get away from it. Their posts are on facebook. Drip. Suddenly everyone knows someone by their name. Drip. Suddenly, everyone drives their same car. Drip. Every song on the radio is relatable, either to the good times you used to have or to the bad times you are having now. Drip. You no longer dream in color. Drip. Every dream you have is about them. Drip. They are there, standing right next to you - so real as if you could reach out and touch them. Drip. But then you wake up and reality sets in and you remember you are left. Drip.

Drip.
Drip.
Alone.
Drip.

You find a new hobby. Drip. Because everything you used to do reminds you of them.  You emerce yourself in it. You try to make a new life. Try to learn a new way to drive home. Try to listen to a new genre of music. Try to get a new favorite TV show. Anything that's different so you don't think of them. Drip. But at the same time, when you are all alone, you'll indulge yourself. You'll pull out their pictures, put on that song you sang together, watch that movie you saw together, hold that special gift they bought you and you'll be completely miserable as you bask in their long-goneness. Drip.

And at night, oh night is the worst. Demons dance around in your brain, so loud, taunting you, telling you all the things you already know...

You are nothing. Drip. You make everyone leave you. Drip. You deserve it. Drip. You deserve every bad thing that's ever happened to you. Drip. Drip. You are a bad person. Drip. You aren't a good friend. You aren't a good anything. You are worthless. Drip. You owe them. You owe everyone. You aren't good enough. No one misses you when you're gone. No one wants to be with you on their own, you just persuade them to be with you. Drip. You are terrible at relationships. You messed up. You deserve to be alone. You deserve to be miserable. You deserve pain. You are nothing, you are no one, and you are going nowhere. 


Drip.


Drip.


Drip.


Drip.


Drip.


And throughout the next few weeks as you contemplate your various radical options, you'll become convinced, thoroughly convinced that it will never go away. You will never see in color again. You will never truly laugh again. They will always be in your dreams and you will always wake up with an immensely deep longing and ache in your soul. You begin to adjust to this "new normal" way of life. 

It takes months. Years. It feels like centuries. But ever so slowly, things become different. You don't realize it at first. It creeps up on you like a snail. But one day you realize that jokes are a little bit funny again. One day you realize that there are purple flowers growing outside your office. One day you realize that you smiled a really deep and satisfying smile and it had nothing to do with them.

And one day, many many months down the road you realize you are okay. You realize you are even sort of happy. You realize you like this normal that is your life and to go back to the way things were now would be un-normal.

The dripping never fully goes away. It never just turns off. It's always there. But it does fade. It simply becomes part of your life in the background, another part of your story. After a decade or so, you are even able to talk about it without falling into the fetal position and sobbing hysterically.

But for now, the dripping is still close. The faucet is still loud and clear. And constant. Always constant.

It's still too soon. You're still not okay. And every night, you still wish you could go back to that one night, to that one moment, to that one text, to that one meeting and just take everything back. You still feel that biting ache in your heart. You still wish everything was just so different. You still aren't used to the new normal. And you still wish they would just come back and you could be un-left and un-alone and un-regretful.

Drip.

To me,

that's what it feels like to be left by another person.