ID 101 - 10: Mulling it over (II)
November 25, 2021
As I think about the situation, I get angrier and angrier. The people whom I trusted the most are the ones who hurt me the most.
Everyone conspired to kill my soul. I was not “right”. Something was wrong about me. From "father", and that “family”. Then my exes, although the last one is a slightly different case.
It seems everyone either used me or twisted what I did and said against me. I don’t know what they saw in me, but it wasn’t the real me.
Acceptance
A, B, and C were the only people who accepted me and saw my real me. I ponder whether A was like me. Kindred spirit.
B and C saw me for who I was. A weird boy with a lot to offer. I guess the “family” calling me a rabid dog had some truth in it. I was a little like a puppy. Always available. Always loving. Always dependable. Loyal to the death. And I still am. Interestingly, nobody seems to notice my intelligence, or my mind, which are my best qualities.
They also saw my weaknesses. Clueless. Naïve. Easy prey to unscrupulous people. Clumsy. And more …
They protected my vulnerabilities.
B used to explain to me everything I needed to know to navigate through many life situations. How to behave in certain circumstances, how to deal with certain types of people, how to lay low when needed. For example, he spent a great deal of time teaching me how to swear, as certain groups of people would be weary of a kid that doesn’t swear. For weeks he patiently run me through different situations and what would be appropriate. As I was testing out my new skills, he would cheer me on when I got it right and laughed wholeheartedly when I didn’t.
C was remarkably similar. The difference was that he was a tough guy, and we were dealing in drugs. That meant that everything had much darker undertones. The feeling and reality of it were remarkably similar to B’s though. He protected my weaknesses.
They accepted me.
That is so different from everyone else. Everyone else tolerated me. Sometimes. Other times I seem to elicit some kind of hate, resentment. Something extremely negative.
Yet I don’t know why. Everything I do with people is motivated by love. Nonetheless everyone seems to turn that into something different.
The Bitch
I think The Bitch can serve as a perfect example. I have known her for over 15 years. She used to be my supervising social worker when I was a foster carer, so she had access to a lot of very confidential information about me. Also, I have always been very honest and open with her. I never stopped to wonder how she saw me. I always assumed that by a combination of information she had, my openness, her relationship with me as a friend, as well as her professional knowledge, especially in counselling, that she knew me. I never expected her to understand me. Life has taught me that no one has, does, or ever will understand me. But she should at least “know” me.
Yet, as I have been talking to her over the last few days, I am realising that she does not know me at all. The Angelo she knows, is not me. It is someone not just from another world, but from another galaxy altogether. And this is the old Angelo, not even a shade of lil’ one.
Here are some examples.
I am weird and different
To begin with, she denies I am weird and different. How is that possible? How does she see me? I am so obviously weird and different. A genuine friend would have a list ready! Denying that it would be like me denying that she is a black woman. Not accepting my weirdness means not accepting me. I would expect a friend to celebrate my unique identity. Why wouldn’t one? What kind of friend does that?
Everyone who has had the opportunity to know me in private has noticed I am different. Usually, they cannot say why at first, it’s a feeling. But soon they can make a list. They don’t really understand. They see “symptoms”. Like me getting nervous in a crowd. Or when they see my eyes becoming teary when watching the news. They don’t understand why, but they see it. They think it’s different. They KNOW it is.
These are just skin deep. Someone who has so much information about me should know this and much, much more. And someone who is supposed to be as close as she is, is also expected to talk about it. Why ignore it? Or deny it? Is it some kind of weird pity? A sense of superiority? Does she think she is being charitable? Or does she really think everyone IS like me? Everyone? Or every white person? Or every white man? Does she even care about me?
And if I look a little deeper an even starker picture comes to light. I don’t like to. It hurts me to recall these memories. But I have to. I have to get a clear idea of what is happening.
I have a moral compass
The other day, I asked her if when I was a foster carer, she had an inclining that I had outstanding issues from my childhood. I strongly believed that I had dealt with all the skeletons in my closet. When this new “identity crisis” came about I was really surprised. So, I wondered what she thought at the time.
She said the fact that I had taken the Local Authority to the Ombudsman was a sign of an unstable psychological state. I was shocked. I could have forgiven her at the time for thinking that. But now, more than 15 years later, I cannot forgive her for still believing it. What the local authority was doing at the time was simply wrong. The decisions taken at the time about that child ruined his life. He is still suffering because of it. I have a conscience and a moral compass. I would have never had agreed to be part of such abusive and improper behaviour. We cannot say that the child was a victim of the system. The Bitch, I, and his social worker were the faces of the system. I will never be an accomplice to cruelty. I gave up my dreams of being a professional foster carer to stand up against injustice. I would expect a friend to be proud of me for doing so. Not to twist it around and turn it against me.
I know this is one of the things that make me weird and different. People don’t seem to understand that we need to protect those who have nobody to protect them. It’s not just a moral duty. It is a social duty. And a civic duty. It is the Human thing to do!
I am NOT “Socially inept”
On another note. One time, at one of her parties, she introduced me to some of her friends as “this is Angelo. He is socially inept”. She then smiled at me patronisingly as if I were the village idiot. If she had put a stake through my heart, it would have probably hurt less. What kind of “friend” does that? Is that my “endearing” nickname with her family now?
Firstly, there is nothing wrong with my social skills. She MUST know that. She has seen me in countless social situations, both in professional settings and otherwise. I know how to interact with people. I know how to engage, and how to feign interest. When I want.
However, if I were socially inept, shouldn’t a friend protect me from any backlash that might come of it? Should a friend not behave like Angelo and Sergio used to by giving me the tools to cope with a situation? Or is it right for a person to use a “pretend” friend’s weakness for some cheap laughs with their “real” friends?
On the one hand, there is the situation when we meet one of her “real” friends. She suddenly stops, without saying anything to me. She then starts talking to someone without introducing me. Ignoring me as if I weren’t there. If I were smaller, she would probably try to put me away in her pocket, or somewhere out of the way. She then continues talking to that other person, sometimes for some lengthy time. Sometimes she starts walking along with them. What does she expect me to do? Am I her puppy that she drags along without any care or consideration? It is difficult for me to engage in those situations, and it makes me resentful.
On the other hand, I have a real difficulty with large groups of people. By large I mean above 5, including me (I did experiments to figure out this number). I tried to explain this to her. She always ignores it. I even tried to read about sensory overload, and to explain it to her in a language that she would understand. She just blanked me out.
I tried to explain about how I don’t see people and faces, rather I feel them. It has come up in various conversations. I know this makes me different, other people don’t see things, and especially people, the way I do.
Every time the subject comes up it is as if I haven’t said anything. I don’t expect her to understand me. I don’t understand how people “visualise”, so I don’t think she can understand how I don’t. However, she could accept my reality as REAL. She could ask questions to try and understand. She should make an effort!
If she really wants me to join her parties, why not help me find a way where I am not overwhelmed? If she wants me to go shopping at peak times, why doesn’t she ask me how she can make the experience less stressful for me? Is that not what a friend should do?
Instead, she prefers to ignore my feelings, my needs, my reality, and my identity. Instead, she prefers to make me feel like I am “wrong” to be who I am.
I am not wrong, I am ME! And I know that these “details” too are parts of what makes me weird and different!
I am not controlling
The other day, we were talking about Marvin’s calls. She said I am controlling, AGAIN! I really don’t understand how she sees that! Who has she been dealing with? It CANNOT be me she is talking about!!!
How often does she call me asking: “Fancy going to the shops”? And my reply is always “No”. After a couple of seconds of deadly silence, I understand that she was counting on me, so I add: “but I will keep you company”. She has a bad back and easily strains, so I want to make sure she has some help while shopping. I often don’t even ask where she wants to go. I just tag along. Is that the behaviour of a controlling person? Or when she meets people and doesn’t introduce me, I don’t force myself in. That too is not the behaviour of a controlling person.
I empower and enable all those around me. I help them grow, develop, and blossom fulfilling their potential. How is that controlling?
How could she possibly read that into me? How could she not see the REAL me?
I even explained to her that Marvin is the first person ever in my life that has made me feel loved. And I am trying to show my gratitude.
Should a friend not have picked up on that? On all the connotations that such a statement has? Instead, she preferred to ignore it. As she ignores everything else I say that is important about me.
And the effect that has on me is quite remarkable. At first, I consider what she says. If a stranger told me I am controlling, I ignore it. But if the one and only person I trust tells me I am controlling, I do analyse it. Aside from the time wasted in the process, I am sure I have more interesting tasks to give my brain, this also raises self-doubt.
And then, once I finish the analysis, and I find the comment to have no value, the self-doubt is replaced by anger. It’s infuriating that I give someone so much power that allows them to instil doubt into me. I have never been wrong, why would I be now? But also, I resent her. Why would she say something like that about me? Does she not see how I behave? Does she not “see” ME? How does she perceive me? Am I just the white friend she has, and all she sees is a white middle-aged man? It certainly doesn’t seem that she sees ME. At all!
And again, my actions, my intentions are twisted and interpreted as negative.
It would appear that this is part of what is different about me. My intentions are different. I am often surprised by people’s actions. How they react to situations. Their responses are usually hugely different from what mine would be. I understand why they do something, but I don’t understand why they decide to take that course of action.
And, again, that is further evidence of how NOT controlling I am. Even though I would do things differently, I still support those around me and help them doing what they want the way they want.
And if other people act, and think differently, should a friend not know about this difference? Should a fiend not know that I act, and think differently, and accept it? Maybe even value it?
All I asked for was information
I do see how people help each other. I help them too.
However, this seems to be something else where I am different. Nobody EVER helps me. It seems that allowing me to do what I do is the only contribution people do to my life. The biggest help people have offered has been to split a bill at the restaurant. Nothing else.
Everyone close to me has always done that, or rather not done that. No one has ever helped me. And now The Bitch too.
All I asked her was some literature about “runaway personalities”. Some information that could help me work out what is happening to me, and lil’ one.
And, truth be told, I would expect her to put an effort into knowing me.
Yet, nothing!
Why? Why is it that people refuse to help me? Again, and again! Those close to me. Those who enjoy my help and my love on a daily basis? Do I do something to instigate this kind of behaviour?
I am not sensitive, everyone else is insensitive, uncaring, and heartless
I don’t think I should continue this gut-wrenching process. I get the gist.
The world doesn’t want Angelo. The world does not accept Angelo. Even those who have claimed in the past to love, or care for me, have not accepted me.
From where I am standing, I am not sensitive. All I want is to be recognised. Acknowledged. Appreciated even. As I said before, I am happy being “different”. I don’t want to be normal, in all honesty. But I want the same things normal people have. To be treated with decency and respect. To be heard. Maybe even one day experience being loved.
Normal people are, however, insensitive, uncaring, and heartless.
And even if I am more sensitive than others, is that not a good thing? That’s what makes me care, support, and nurture those around me. Why would it be considered such a dreadful thing? Why should that be the subject of ridicule and exploitation?
