Saturday, October 26, 2013

I hate boxes, part five, or, We'll have the days we break...


At The Place, I learned there was a reason for my odd, anti-social behavior. I didn't have to be this way.

I even have a label: Adult Child of an Alcoholic.


The label comes with a list of symptoms, all of which I had.

I fought against it at first. Why me, and not my brother?

Because in families of alcoholics, we fill roles. My brother was the 'hero'. I was the 'lost child'.

Some people have said to me, "I don't believe in that stuff, Michelle."

That's fine, you don't have to! I can only tell you what I know:


  1. I know that I am an extremely repressed person. I've never been able to let go and have fun, ever, ever, in my whole life.
     
  2. I know that I keep my friends at a distance. I love them, I appreciate them, but I won't answer the phone and I won't return their phone calls. If I do talk to them, they invite me to lunch, I'm always vague...and then I can never make it.

  3. I know that I define the term socially awkward. If it shouldn't be said, I will somehow say it.

  4. I know that I'm a disappointment as a girlfriend. Dwayne's boss had a giant party on his yacht every year, and as a foreman, Dwayne was expected to be there, with...me. Only every year, I wasn't there. I was D's Snuffleupagus.

  5. I know I've suffered from depression and anxiety since I was old enough to know what it was called.


These are all things I can work on, things that I can take medicine for. The big thing was identifying the problem and knowing the issues.

I haven't been as successful as I hoped to be since I got out. I had visions of being even better than my old self; not only being busy, but having real friends and not disappointing people for once.

That hasn't happened.

My depression has slowly eased back, I think. I also think the massive doses of TWO different anti-anxiety meds are doing the trick in regards to public places, because the concert was almost not that bad at all.

But I still don't leave my bedroom much except to go to work.

I just need to push myself out the door.

Just...go.