Have you ever been so afraid of something that you can actually feel that fear deep inside of you, clawing its way into a space in which it doesn’t belong? Well, I have. I am afraid that one day, I will become invisible. Again.
By now, I’m sure you know my story. You know the heartbreak and the betrayal, but you also know the healing and the redemption. What you don’t know is the things I still feel.
I’ve been very insecure lately. We can blame it on the fact that for some reason my mind felt it prudent to drudge up old memories I would prefer to erase entirely. Memories of former friends (J.J. and O.R.) that haunt me still. I would much rather forget, but apparently that is not an option for me. Instead, the memories get to do what they can to try to destroy any ability to have a healthy relationship with someone. Those memories mixed with other insecurities brought on by my past struggles with my sexual identity make me constantly feel insecure in my relationship with one of my newfound friends. I hate it. I wish it would go away, but as with must fears it chooses instead to cling to the back of my neck like a incorrigible chimp and gnaw at my cranium. Such is life.
There are moments, lapses in reality that occur inside of my head. They destroy me. One minute I’m sitting with my friends, enjoying their fellowship, their love, their acceptance, their familiarity and comfort, and the next… I’m inside my own head about something he said or did or didn’t say or do. And the fact that I’m insecure makes me insecure about this idea that my insecurities are going to chase him off and, once again, I will lose my last hope of maintaining a healthy relationship with another guy.
The biggest thing for me, I think, is that he’s so introverted and quiet and I’m a person whose love language is words of affirmation and quality time. And I get frustrated because I feel like I maintain 90% of any conversation I have with him, yet am denied a response or reaction of any significant kind. The part of me that is selfless and graceful reminds me that it’s merely his personality type, but the irrational part of me tells me that I am a nuisance and I am a bother and I’m not really wanted here and he may be my best friend, but he doesn’t really care about me. If somebody else comes along, he’ll forget about me. He won’t see me anymore. I will fade into the background yet again, rejected, forgotten, alone, unloved… worthless. I feel that I am waiting with baited breath for that moment when everything will fall apart again.
This is what goes on in my head. You have a front row seat to the freakshow of the broken spirit.
I feel that I will fade, that I will become nothing just as I once was. And I try so hard to “fake it until I make it,” but when does the process end?
There’s this automatic voice in my head that goes off every time I develop a relationship that says, “You don’t see me.” Is it true? Maybe not. But my spirit is broken and the memories tell me otherwise. I just want the voice to go away. I want to be able to enjoy my friends without this wondering, this expectation of inevitable doom that I feel will somehow be my fault. I want to stop questioning the things I say and do. I want to stop feeling like he’ll forget about me one day and I will be nothing more than a blip in his long life like I was for all those others.
I want the voices to stop. Healing is on its way, I know. Someday. But for today, I suppose I will keep faking it because I love my friends and I don’t want to lose them. But the pain is real and I still feel it and it won’t go away and I don’t know why or how to respond. All I know to do right now is exist and attempt to tune out that voice that says, “You don’t see me.” All I know is to keep my insecurities to myself because I don’t want them to destroy my friendships. All I know is how to exist.
And I don’t want to simply exist. I want to live.