It stems back to long ago, back in the second grade. When I had a crush on a girl named Cheyenne. I had told my friend Michael, and Michael hung out with Julian. I asked Michael if he had told Julian who I liked because of something he had said, Cheyenne's friend overheard.
Boom. My entire seven year old world shattered at that moment. Completely humiliated by the experience, and many since, I have become a vault of stories. I mean, I like telling my fun stories, but my drama, my serious person life, my feelings, my crushes, my hopes and my dreams I tend to keep to myself.
Because I feel like they are mine. I cling to these feelings with all my heart. I cling to them and keep them secret because they define me. They are Tommy. They are future Tommy, they are past Tommy, and they are present Tommy, all culminating into words that make up and describe Tommy. These things aren't even written, merely stored mentally in hopes that one day, somebody will care enough, and I will trust enough, to tell things to.
I think the reason behind me not telling people my stories is not for the common reason, vulnerability. Having done acting through High School, I felt vulnerable A LOT. In improv, you are vulnerable every time you step up. Because if you mess up, you gotta hope the person or people around you have your back and can make something of your nonsense.
No, my reason is much deeper, it's a great fear that I have in life, and that's failure. I don't want to tell people my past because I don't want them to judge me because of my failures. I don't want to tell them my hopes because I don't want them to ask what I am doing to accomplish these goals, and have the answer be "nothing" or "I don't know". Because that, in my eyes, is failure. It is the epitome of failure.
So that's why I don't like telling people my stories. If we're close, I may grace you with one or two. But honestly, if you get one, it means I really trust you with them, and I trust you not to tell them. Because I hate having people in my business. I rarely seek out advice, because I think so differently from people. That's not to sound conceited, because "differently" is not supposed to be a euphemism for "smarter". I just know that my brain does not function like the average population. It is weird. Different. Dare I say, special. So usually when I get advice from people, I will be in a real pickle. And often, I will take their advice and tweak it, acknowledging is simply as their one single view, based on their unique experiences and mental wiring. I view it simply as such, and will throw it onto the scales of whatever issue I'm weighing at that time. But most of the time, I try to scale my mountains alone. It makes it harder, sure, but then I get to look down and see how far I have come. I get a sense of pride, of self worth, and maybe a little conceit, brief though it may be.
Unfortunately, this strange thing that I do also comes with a downside. That's that I won't often give out help to others in times where I feel that I could, or even should. I see people struggling with their own issues, blatantly, openly, and honestly having a difficult time in their life. And I just sit and watch. I feel awful admitting this, but I can think of several times in the past semester even where I felt I should reach out and help someone, but I stop myself, because I think that they are like me, that they would not want people all up in their business. I think that they would want to conquer this thing on their own, and then look back and say "Dang son, look what I conquered! Man, I'm so cool!" just like I do every time I overcome a challenge in my life.
A little disclaimer on this part. I am not cold and heartless. If I walk by and see someone crying, I don't just keep walking. I don't phrase my question "what's wrong", I'll try to remember to phrase it "hey, you want some company." or something like that. Because sometimes when I'm feeling blue all I really want is to feel like somebody does care. Sometimes, I even secretly want people to drag my problems out of me, until I'm so open that it scares them. But usually that won't happen. And I don't do the same to others. I just try to be there, see if there's anything I can do, and let the person know that I love them. But my rule is to never, never ever ever ever ever pry. Because I wouldn't want people to pry into my business, so I don't get into theirs. But if people ask for my help, I give it. I'm happy to sit and listen and not judge. That's something I'm good at, is not judging people because of their mistakes. 'Cause if they've done something wrong, I usually start thinking of all the stupid stuff I've done, and I realize we're all on the same level. So I guess I'm a good listening ear, you just have to ask for it if you need it.
And I guess that's why I've kind of leaned away from Psychology as a profession, because people stopped coming to me with their problems because I walled them off from my own. is it healthy? Probably not. Should I stop it? Probably, and I may once somebody who I care enough about asks me for them. They won't even have to drag it out of me, I know that now. Around pretty girls, my mouth just goes, and doesn't make sense or think about what it's doing usually. So a pretty girl will just have to ask for the right story in the right way, and hopefully I'll trust them enough to lay it on them.
Hopefully this sheds a little light on me. I hope that next time I opt out of telling a story, you don't take it personally. More so, I hope that next time I'm unhelpful in situations of personal distress where I should be helpful/compassionate/sympathetic etc, you will understand why I'm doing what I am. Know that I am here if you need me, but that you have to reach out for it. And if you want a personal story, then you need to reach even deeper.
I hope you all had a fun time reading this wall of text. I should probably start planning better what I'm gonna blog. Make one of those story webs they taught us in elementary school so that I know what I want to talk about... instead of none of my paragraphs or thoughts flowing together. Hopefully that just shows you further how strangely my brain works. Because sadly this all makes sense in my head, and I can't read it aloud to make more sense of it because it's 2:15 in the morning and my room mate is sleeping. So for now, bon chance, adios, and 'til next time, Stay classy readers.
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