Walking Disaster

It’s Time to Bring Back the Myspace Top 8

I’ve spent my whole adolescent and adult life trying to prove myself worthy or valuable to the people in my life. I don’t know if it’s because that’s the only way my mother viewed me, or if it’s to prove to myself that I have a higher return on investment than she does, I’m not sure. Either way, she’s to blame.

But what about the people I’ve been proving myself to — my friends and family members? By and large, sometimes it feels like they haven’t felt the same need to prove themselves to me, which leaves me feeling like I’m a better friend to them than they are. And while I’m glad they are clearly more emotionally healthy than me, I have been experiencing more and more feelings of disconnect as of late, and I think that’s where it stems from.

Maybe it’s different love languages, maybe it’s my feelings of inadequacy, and maybe I’m not supposed to put relationships in terms of value. But the fact of the matter is that as I’ve grown up, I always feel like I put more into my relationships than the reciprocal person does, and that needs to change. I don’t know if other people are dealing with these feelings or experiences, but the personal is universal so I figured I’d do a rare foray into being honest (this is the closest I get to vulnerable) with my feelings.

Time to put in a disclaimer that if you’re one of the four people in my life who knows about this blog, this is obviously not applicable. I just don’t think I’m wrong for hitting my limit and wanting to cut someone out of my life when they leave me stranded in butt-fuck Texas with no way to leave my Airbnb and no way of getting to the airport. Or for not putting up with manufactured “I heard from so and so, who heard from whatshisface who told me now I’m telling you” drama when it starts to take over real life. Or for ghosting a friend once it’s become apparent that they’re never the one reaching out, it’s always me. I also feel the need to reassure myself that I’m not wrong in these instances because I try so hard to be there for the people in my life, but I don’t think it can be considered walking away from a relationship if you’ve been pushed.

I’ve been lucky enough (if you can call it luck) to usually have a huge event every few years, usually thanks to my dad’s ex-wife, that was a catalyst for weeding out the unreliable people in my life for me. It’s easy to see who is a ride or die when you’ve just been arrested, or just been sued, or whatever obstacles she’s sure to throw my way next, but does this mean I’m going to need to do my own weeding every few years?

Do a spring cleaning of my contact book the same way I go through my closet to donate what I haven’t worn in the last year? Side note: that’s a lie. I only donate clothes when they have holes or pit stains, and sometimes not even then. This seems like it’ll take actual effort. Mainly because once you’re faced with the possibility that your friend doesn’t exactly consider you a friend, you end up feeling as betrayed as the time you found out it’s a cooking sheet, not a cookie sheet… This is to say not a high-level betrayal, but someone definitely should’ve told me before I found out myself. Is it possible that I’m overthinking the notion of friendship and platonic relationships altogether? Clearly, I’m spiraling, but I don’t think that invalidates the idea. When you’re made to feel unwanted, the right move is to see who wants to combat that notion.

On the other hand, what about the friends who don’t make you feel unloved, but who can’t seem to do anything on their own? I just feel like I’m so sick of carrying the emotional loads of so many people without them even offering to do the same for me. I’m over here, mentally rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, and you’re bailing your water into my boat.

I can try to be less responsible for other people’s emotional stability because I really can’t take on more of an emotional load at this point, but then I’m terrified that someone who does need me falls even deeper because I’m not there to hold them up. What kind of person would I be if I left someone alone like that? I’ll tell you who — the kind of person who listens when pilots tell them to secure their oxygen masks first. It’s not selfish to let go of someone who is pulling you down to climb out of their own shit. Except yes, it totally is, and that sentence contradicts everything else I’ve said. I don’t fucking know man.

The thing is, I don’t know how to change this, because I can’t tell how much of this is real or just in my head. Even if it is in my head, it’s still how I feel which means I’m valid in my complaints, since I’m trying to work on not gaslighting myself in this new year.

I could try easing up on the self-deprecatory humor so that other people don’t develop subconscious images of me based on the façade I present, but that sucks too because when you’re me, self-deprecation is so easy to do. Look at the name of this blog for shit’s sake. I could try my best to stop looking too far into the innocuous actions of those around me. But when you were surrounded by deliberate people your whole life, it’s hard to not read into what they do, because actions mean everything.

Mainly, I think my move going forward is to step back and see who reaches out. Auditing my list of friends to see who’s a keeper, who’s a fair-weather friend, and who’s in-between or neither, because I can’t cut everyone out of my life or I won’t have anyone left. I can also try to expand my social group and try getting to know people I previously only knew peripherally. I‘m good with having people in my life that are just coworkers, or just people to go out for drinks with, but I need to know who is who.

It might not change who I spend free time with, but it’ll definitely define who’s worth that free time, who’s worth my love and support, and who’s worth the exceptional opinions and stellar company, provided by their friendly neighborhood dumpster fire.