General Journal Entry #3

I am so insecure about my ability to socialize.

I know that my skills are stunted from being horrifically bullied throughout my childhood in my family’s home— and thus making me a complete hermit throughout adolescence. Now as an adult I’m blind to social cues, suspicious of people who are kind to me, and in general afraid of doing or saying the wrong things. I perseverate on interactions that “went bad” or I wonder if this person thought ill of me and I didn’t realize it, or reimagine how I could’ve responded better in a conversation. When I’m at art fairs, I get to practice socializing but it exists on a sheer surface. I merely speak upon my work or my interest in studying emotional development and addiction. I’d like to learn how to be a better listener. Sometimes I feel like I’m steamrolling over others in a conversation and it makes me cringe later. I’m worried that I’m maliciously egotistic. After some thought I know that it’s more like— I want to bring as much as I can to a conversation and connect so desperately that I end up just regurgitating everything I know so that maybe whomever I’m speaking to will be impressed? That— and because of my total lack of regular socializing, this really is all I know how to do. My conversations have generally been held between notebook paper, journals, and recently over the past 5 years, my therapist. Even with her it’s more one-sided. I’m not exactly learning about another person besides myself.

I remember practicing a guided meditation recently (headspace: Andy Puddicombe) and he said, “[…]there are many kinds of tears. Sad, happy, and if we’re lucky, tears of vulnerability.” I wasn’t expecting to have some breakthrough while submitting a weekly substack post but here I am crying because I wish I knew how to talk to people.