I Could Really Care Less

As individuals, I believe that we are all in apt playing different roles. It makes us strong and gives us meaning. I have several, but the two most prominent are the “Anti-Social Butterfly” and “I Really Could Care Less” roles. I like to think that I’m gifted with words and the art of rebuttals. I can debate on just about any subject or share my opinion with anyone. It’s funny because from the outside looking in people would think that I thrive in social situations, however, the reality is that I cringe at the thought. I’m a social recluse for many reasons. Some of which are, I prefer the company of my own thoughts, sharing my feelings with others gives me anxiety, and I’m a serious control freak. I use to be able to channel these feelings into my writing, but as of late they’re all very much bottled.

My next hat would be, “I could really care less.” Once the subject doesn’t jive with my process or my benefit, I don’t care about it anymore. At all! I can literally know a person forever, and could have even loved you, but once a particular boundary is crossed, it’s like you literally never existed. I have a way of blocking people, situations, or things permanently. It’s actually quite terrible when I think about it in retrospect, but that’s how I’ve learned to survive. I use to be a people pleaser, but no one ever chose me, so I decided to choose myself and I’ve never looked back. My behavior seems perfectly normal to others that aren’t seriously close to me. In fact I have a crazy level of popularity that I don’t know what to do with. But to those that I let in, my behavior doesn’t usually gel. I’m notorious for have communication issues within my relationships. I believe that comes from being silenced in the past. Now it’s my choice to not share. It’s like a crime of passion so to speak. I have thoughts that are absolutely beautiful and provoking, but I don’t feel people deserve them, so I keep them to myself.

As I sit and reflect on my past and present selves, I’ve realized that these aren’t really roles at all, they’re my survival mechanisms. Three years ago I met someone who challenged me as a person. It was madness at first sight. Our relationship was beautiful, enlightening, harmful, disheartening, and therapeutic. I never really understood how people could love someone else while hating yourself until I met “her.”

She was the first woman that I’ve ever found attractive in a manner that made me want to act on it. I mean I’ve toyed with the thought, but I could never. At least, that’s what I thought. She was beautiful, funny, artistic and brilliant. She made me feel gorgeous on levels I couldn’t imagine. The more time she let me have with her the more intrigued I became and after a while, I was smitten.

Pretty soon I found myself doing whatever she wanted. Abiding by her rules, censoring my feelings and prioritizing hers, allowing her to make me small even though I’m as large as Jupiter. I shaved so much of myself that I was to smooth to hold. I was too smooth to comfort, and when she couldn’t make me whole, she made herself the victim. She has a funny way of changing subjects whenever she was wrong. I came to realize that all her brilliance was only on the surface and she wasn’t capable of getting deeper. About anything! My attempts to enlighten, were taken as belittling. And soon I was her enemy. I was exposing her and she hated me for it. It was so draining, but I loved her.

After two years of madness, I finally saw how different I became. I developed a alcohol addiction, put on 35 pounds, and had barely any self esteem left. It’s wild because I did it all for her. The alcohol would numb me enough to be social without allowing my true feelings to surface. She liked the weight gain and it kept me from wanting to be with anyone else because I no longer liked my body. And my low self esteem made it possible for her to control every other aspect of my life. One night, we went on a date and for the first time in two years, I had too much to drink. So much so that it reminded me of how much I hated being drunk. And just like that I stopped drinking. And as the alcohol left my body, clarity entered. The weight just fell off as if it knew it was never supposed to be there and I finally felt some semblance of my old self.

Pretty soon I was clear. More than clear even, I was a magnifying glass. I could see every single flaw. I stopped feeding into her need to be the victim. I stopped pulling her out of holes she built to trap us, but most of all, I saw myself. I saw an anti-social butterfly that tried so hard to love, that I traded myself for someone I had no business caring for. She broke me but I rebuilt myself, and now I can really care less.