If you know me, you know that I forget things. A lot. I forget to text or email people back, I forget to do chores even when I’ve been given them a mere few minutes before, I forget to do homework, I forget to meet places, and sometimes I forget important things like textbooks and names and wallets and room keys. And I want those of you who I’ve ever forgotten to text/email back to understand something: it’s not you. It’s me.
No, really. It’s nothing against you, I promise. Or at least, it’s usually nothing against you. If I have a reason to be angry with you, then that’s probably why I’m not texting/emailing you back. But usually, usually, it has absolutely nothing to do with you. Usually, it’s just my automatic coping mechanism kicking in.
See, after years of going through emotionally unpleasant situations, I’ve unconsciously trained myself to never concentrate on anything, because concentrating on something means I’m dwelling on it, and dwelling on emotionally unpleasant things makes me depressed. So I’ve just stopped concentrating… on just about everything. The only time I’m ever completely concentrated on something is when I’m writing, but sometimes not even then. I’m not ADD or anything, as far as I know, I’m just a very troubled young girl.
It works like this. If I start thinking about something unpleasant, my mind automatically skips to something else, anything else. This process of avoidance works so well that I can even forget things like my parents being divorced.
Unfortunately, it’s not a foolproof system, and it leads to a lot of problems. Like forgetting chores and homework. My brain is so good at avoiding things that it avoids pretty much everything.
For a while, this process actually worked for me, especially once I was conscious of it. But like all my other ways of dealing with my issues, something always shakes things up again. Like, you think you’ve got everything under control and you can go days, even weeks, without thinking about your parent’s divorce, and then your best friend decides to pull a Dylan and everything falls apart again. So you’re left picking up the pieces once again, wondering when the next time someone is going to hurt you and then finding yourself thinking and sparkly pencils and how much you love your Gryffindor scarf.
I’ve been at the extremes of dwelling and avoidance, and so it stands to reason that the next stop on my emotional coping journey will be somewhere in the middle. But has anything I’ve done ever stood up to reason? Don’t answer that.
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Wow. It feels like I haven’t blogged in forever. It feels good to be back. All updates will be on time starting… now! (Although videos might be a bit sporadic as I’m still having audio issues and two days worth of Disney World footage is still mysteriously missing)
