The other side of the page.

The other side of the page, where I exist.

I’m always busy. Even when people have  thought I was doing nothing, being lazy.. I am busy. Busy in my own head. There have been periods of time in my life where I barely left the house for months on end. When I slept as much as I could. But still, I was busy. Either busy thinking and worrying or busy trying to run from my thoughts and worries.   Always afraid of being truly still and having to deal with my busy, frenetic thoughts.

I feel guilty for things beyond my control. I’ve sought mind altering substances and activities in the past,  to put my mind at rest or to make myself feel less crazy. Obsessive habits and drugs take away the guilt and feelings of responsibility that I could not deal with. My brain is never still. I cannot command it to be still. Always thinking outside myself. Layers upon layers upon layers. There is clearly no omnipotent god. I feel like Jim , the resident with an inability to articulate verbally due to a stroke. I cannot keep focus on things, there are just too many things. Thousands of ideas but I have to pause them in order to deal with each one, and I’ve not been able to do that. There is not enough time.

I have always seen  myself in other people, crazy people, disturbed people, geniuses. I understand them, or parts of them and that frightened me. I’ve also always dealt with uber sensory dreams. Epic, emotional, extreme dreams. Trouble sleeping because of the thoughts. I’ve tried perpetual physical motion to help quell the speed of my thoughts, my constant ‘jiggling’ in bed, rocking, pacing, sniffing. The repetitive motion helps but also becomes it’s own group of potentially obsessive thoughts.

My whole life I’ve felt different and thought different, been different. Not in the way that we are all different, unique.  Been told that I’m over sensitive, over empathetic, too nice, too giving, too trusting, that I think too much. Never been able to distill (dumb down) my thoughts enough to communicate them properly to others and then I just feel guilty for being smarter than other people but less able to make myself understood. I don’t Mean to be smarter than I can’t help it. I DO Know what you’re thinking often, I DO get the joke, I DO get the irony. People often don’t get my jokes so I try not to make them. I know what they will think is funny and try to stick with that. I’m constantly suppressing my thoughts and feelings so I don’t hurt someone. This in and of itself  ends up hurting people because I withdraw. I have always felt like my dad could understand me, but now I’m not sure he can. He says I’m “needy” but I can’t help it. I just want someone to “get it”. I think maybe I'm going to have to "get it" for myself first.