DISCLAIMER I HAVE NOT SHARED THIS BLOG WITH MY FORMER OR CURRENT COWORKERS OR ANY OF MY FORMER OR CURRENT NEIGHBORS
Yes I’ve been called crazy before.
I think people think that because they’ve never had anything strange happen to them. They’ve never had someone treat you like you’re not a person. Like you have no rights. Like you’re an object or property. That you have to be lying or making it up. Still if you know about something that I don’t talk about or mention, then to me what you say I’ve made up is not a lie or fiction it’s true.
Still sometimes I wish some things had never happened to me. Maybe if I had gone through the other sliding door where would I be now? Would everything that happened to me never had, would it still be the same? Would I still feel the same way? Never know. I guess I’ll have to ask the other me in one of those other dimensions or whatever.
Still the problem is that people don’t understand and won’t try to understand. They don’t understand anything, but expect you to be ok with how they treat you. Like it’s nothing. So what can you do?
It will bother you because you will always want someone to understand how you feel and understand what you’re going through. That’s human nature. Still you just learn to avoid or ignore those who don’t understand and embrace those who try even if it’s just one thing. You learn what to tell someone and what not to tell someone. You learn how to learn how to really trust someone. You learn how to place people in categories and learn how to keep some people there.
People will want you to be what they want you to be. I’m not sure why. It’s like when I get accused of not talking. I do talk, but I am picky about what I talk about and to whom. I also tend to not want to talk about certain things. I won’t tell you what I like to talk about, but there are certain things I will bring up with some people, that I won’t with others. Now I won’t start a conversation with someone who enjoys twisting everything I say, who will make fun of what I say, or tell everyone what I say. That’s why a lot of the time I say the same things over and over again. Want to know why? Because I don’t want you to know anything else. Plus the same story has been repeated not just to you, but to anyone else I told the story to, so what does that mean? Boring, yes. True, yes.
Like it’s nothing to call someone crazy.
I don’t call people crazy. Some people suffer from various mental disorders. People suffer from mental disorders that when provoked can cause them to do something horrible to others. You don’ t know what damage you can cause.
Yes I’ve watched that on a lot of the programs I watch. Someone triggers a deep down memory or feeling and violence ensues.
It’s like the guy in my story. He had been working on controlling his problems. If you notice he was unraveling mentally. Maybe he had learned how to keep himself from losing it and here comes these people who start bringing back random memories. Maybe he had tried to commit suicide in the past. Maybe he had been to war and had issues with remembering what happened. All of those things he had worked on down the toilet thanks to a group of people. All for one person. All of this for one person.
So yeah. I seem to be a bit paranoid. I am actually fearful for my life, especially when I don’t bother anyone. I don’t want to go into anyone’s home uninvited. I don’t want anyone’s things. I do know what I want. I do know I want my own things. I do know I would like to feel safe and not violated. I would like to not be afraid that someone might think that it’s ok to hurt me to make me suffer.
The funny thing I do suffer every day, but not from what has transpired. There are things I do think about more than the break in, the stolen bank account and bank card. There are things I don’t talk about with people, still I’m sure someone thinks they know because they’ve been eavesdropping or reading something they shouldn’t.
So I don’t need anyone telling someone else who they think I am. I don’t need anyone deducing what they read illegally, or what they coax out of someone deciding who I am.
The only person who knows who I am, is me. It might mean I have to find out more about myself and learn what to work on and what I can do to make myself better. That’s because I know myself better than anyone else. Still I know who I am. I can’t go around telling people who I am. I know how people are. They judge you the minute they see you. They ask people who don’t know you, who you are. Truths and lies get twisted and you become an interpretation of who you are. The only way for anyone to know who I am is to learn for themselves. Not sneaking and learning about me. Not reading my text messages, or breaking into my home, or stealing my mail, or stealing my bank account, or listening to my voice mail, or doing anything else a I would consider illegal. The only way is to talk to me and put forth the effort to get to know me. Which apparently is scarier for some people than just going by here say.
Take preachers for example. Put 20 preachers, priests, rabbi’s, etc in a room together and ask them to read one passage from the old testament. Why the old testament you ask? Because the first 5 books of the Bible are part of the Quran, Bible, and Tanakh. Then ask them to all interpret the meaning of it. Based on their training and their backgrounds there could be 20 different interpretations. Which one you choose is what you believe when you read it for yourself.
Believe me I don’t always believe what people tell me. Some things I want to find out for myself. Sometimes I listen to my inner self. Sometimes I’ve been proven right and other times proven wrong.
Sometimes I wish what I heard or felt wasn’t real. Sometimes I wish it was a bad dream. Who wants to hear someone calling their bank? Who want’s to hear someone discuss something private that you don’t tell anyone? No one. So I really wish I hadn’t. Yet once again it was hilarious. Not to me it wasn’t. It was freaking scary.