My best life has nothing to do with you.

I am a recluse who lives a boring, socially awkward introverted life, and I fucking love it. My rituals are rather basic. Come home, shower. Pour a drink, roll up a joint and chill the fuck out. With either music or my clutch movies blaring in the background. I stopped watching TV after the elections.
I purposely stay below the radar, and I spend a lot of time by myself. Being alone helps me focus on my process of things. My life. My surroundings, my past, my future. Some days I don’t say a word, I merely sit in silence and bask in the serenity of my private cerebral space. This greater need for space and a lesser need for human interaction makes others uncomfortable.
Unless I have to speak to you, I won’t. The majority of my interactions are by text, and those conversations remain on mute, along with email alerts. The only active push notifications on my phone are food and booze delivery apps. I have only Facetimed twice in my life. I absolutely refuse to participate in group chats, I don’t know that many people. And I abhor social media. It is a cesspool and a clusterfuck of immorality. Sadly, it’s also shaping up to be a sort of litmus test as to whether or not you qualify as being a human of value. Nothing to do with morals or any form of human decency. Just a popularity contest of who can offer the most ridiculous, offensive statement.
Along with it being a pageant of scanted and unnecessary nudity. And worse, women labeling themselves as sluts under the guise of feminism. This is not anything that I wish to participate in and has left me in the minority. Which is fine by me.
My leaps towards solace are my attempts at getting a hold of myself and minimizing if I can, situations that trigger manic behavior. This is a daily chore and a large part of why I am upfront about my boundaries. I have a clear understanding of what I accept and tolerate from others. If and when I feel the need to take a step back, and in some instances, disappear altogether, I do just that. I really can’t think about how my process affects anyone else. I have to do what is best for me. Harsh, but true. And according to my therapist, quite delusional. While he is sympathetic to my behavior, he feels that my icy exterior comes off the wrong way. This is yet another area we are addressing in my therapy sessions.
If I am non-responsive for two days, my sister will freak out, and if I miss or reschedule a session with my therapist, he’ll call me directly to find out why. I understand the need; however, I genuinely hate the mental check-ins. Even the mere question of how are you, makes me feel uncomfortable. I try to avoid it, or flip the question and ask how you are doing. I feel like shit every day, and no one wants to hear that, nor do I want to say it out loud.
Also, I am not a fucking baby, you have to let me live. Yes, I have harmed myself, and sadly there is a potential in the future that I might hurt myself again, but you have to get beyond it. No, it’s not a constant focus right now, however, when I am manic, there is nothing anyone can do to help me. As I have said previously, you can’t protect me from myself. I am certainly not an ingrate, I am blessed to have an unshakeable support system. Both within my personal life, along with my medical practitioners. It’s just that I find that I am my best self when I am alone. I am free to think, free to create my art, write and bask in the beauty of minding my own fucking business. The idea of having someone constantly within my space is not a natural step for me. I am capable of empathy; however, I lack the ability to connect with others, especially in a one on one setting on that level.
I don’t know what it’s like to be entirely dependent on another human being. Although I am learning. You see, I was raised in an alternate universe. Where my mother and grandmother were my nemeses, and they did everything they could do to ruin me. That void has resulted in a fear that I will be abandoned, rejected, or worse, humiliated. Also, I am used to being in a room by myself.
My childhood was very controlled, outside of school and church, I had little to no interaction with strangers. While other kids were at the mall, away from their parents, I was under the tight grip with my mother or at my grandmother’s house. So now, my flawed solution is to keep everyone, aside from my dude, at an arm’s length away. On the surface that is fucked up, I know. However, I don’t understand the desire for anyone to want to be that deeply involved in my life. Also, my interpersonal skills are complete shit. I can articulate my words on paper and in the workplace. For obvious reasons (read: paycheck and health benefits) I put on a façade at work. I know what to say and how to play that game. In my personal interactions, not so much. More often than not, I become flustered and give up midway. Or worse, I completely check out and ignore everything you’re saying to me.
For years, I lived a lie, suffering on the inside in an attempt at maintaining a decent social schedule. I only participated because I thought that is what I was supposed to do — become a social butterfly. All of those interactions were forced. At my core, I was torn about who I was. I knew what I felt, agony. However, that reaction didn’t seem to match anyone else’s. Those experiences taught me that I don’t need to compromise my dignity for the sake of, friendship, popularity or social relevance. I’m good. During that time, I knew I was bipolar, however, I was not on meds or in treatment. I was unaware that I was also suffering from social anxiety. Those situations triggered terrible behavior within crowded settings, resulting in quite a few physical confrontations. I have been escorted out by bouncers more times than I would like to admit. Along with NYPD being called on me numerous times and a few instances involved handcuffs.
It’s easy to dismiss me as a bitch; maybe I am, maybe I am not. All I can say is that it’s not my intent. My question here is why do I need to appease you? I don’t really care about your answer to that question. Whether you accept that or not, is not anything that registers as a concern. My life works for me. And my best life, you see, has nothing to do with you, or anyone else for that matter.
To reach this point and stay afloat, it requires a lot of discipline. The most challenging part is being okay with feeling uncomfortable. Solitude not only brings silence, but it also brings the matters cluttering your subconscious to light. I had to figure out how to eradicate myself from the emotional complacencies, and that freedom is found when I am alone. I am totally ok with not being everything to everyone. I am incapable of caring in that way. Your opinions about my life and the way I conduct myself now doesn’t register. I don’t care; my emotions and temperament aren’t set up that way.
Collecting friends for the sake of has no value to me. I am far more interested in connecting with someone, exchanging information and moving the fuck on. One conversation can change your life. Why do we need to have an extended dialogue? I’ve encountered a lot of great people in my life’s journey thus far. Some I know that I may never speak to again and I am ok with that. I will always remember them fondly. Things we have in common, how you’ve impacted my life and vice versa, even if it were just for the moment. That to me means so much more than participating in a generic dialogue. I am intrigued by others, their journeys, their perspectives on life. However, after a certain point, no matter who you are, I will retreat to the privacy of my own space and continue on the path of living my best life.
