I find it hard to maintain interest in anyone. And this goes beyond romantic entanglements. This includes friends and family as well. It’s not unusual for me to just not contact a friend for a period of time, and then ease back into conversation. But… the people who are my friends are the few who just continue to be there year after year. I can probably count on one hand the people who I’ve kept around and want to keep around. It’s weird. It would be awesome to have a group to hangout with (my friends are all individual friendships with vastly different personalities/lifestyles from each other. I can’t actually bring them together. Like the kinkster with the extremely religious. That’ll go over well. Not.).

With family… Fuck. I come from a tight knit family. Even with those who live overseas. I’ve been actively avoiding them for a long long time. At first, I would make up excuses based on the various things that ailed me (pain, anxiety, whatever). But eventually, I stopped saying anything. It was just a given that if family got together, I wouldn’t show up. I’m pretty sure my youngest cousin has no idea who I am. And she’s now a few years old (fuck, I don’t even know her age).

Anyways. I had promised myself to be more social, which is kinda what brought me to date again (I know, totally the wrong way to go about it). But I’ve been making an effort to initiate contact with friends instead of ignoring. Gotta start somewhere.

I’ve been thinking about my avoidance of those I used to be close to. Especially because it’s my great-aunt’s birthday later this month. Her husband is throwing her a surprise party. I have to face them sometime, and I figure this would be a good place to start. Especially since I’d be staying in the hotel where the party is, so really, I have a built in exit strategy.

It’s stressful. The people in my family are well off, well educated, stable… My cousins close in age to me are studying in various parts of the country, living independently, have jobs, relationships, friendships, pets. And then there’s me. Ex-whore who never graduated high school. Weird fact about me – I’d rather admit I was prostituted then someone without a high school diploma. Regardless of the fact that I got into university anyways on the strength of my grades.

Anyways. It’s the questions and comments from others that is stressing me. The whole “what are you doing with your life” conversation that comes from people you haven’t seen in ages. WTF do I say? “Well, I recently got myself off drugs after being raped yet again. It made me realize that what I’m doing wasn’t working for me. And now I sit in my room and write about myself so unknown people can hear my thoughts”?

Hmm.

Part of me wants to say something like that just for the reaction. Then my better judgement kicks in. My therapist offered to roleplay those awkward questions to lessen the anxiety. And I guess I’ll actually have to do that now.

Even though I don’t feel inadequate or worthless, I know if I start measuring myself against them, I’ll lose. Even though what I’m doing and where I am is just as important as studying Russian Lit for the hell of it (One of my cousins. Really, what does one do with an education in Russian Literature?).

Plus there’s the whole body image thing. I’d be lying if I said I’m totally confident in my skin.

I’m not. I fake it really well. But my weight and appearance isn’t something I like to talk about, and rarely like being commented on. Both have zero relevance to me as a person. But, they aren’t blind. I’ve lost 40+lbs in the last while, but I’m still bigger then I used to be (I mean at my baseline weight, not my skinny unhealthy self). And a few of the women in my family really have no tact when it comes to stuff like that. And then I start comparing myself to my sister, who I still think is the pretty one. Or my aunt, who used to be a model (the magazine kind).

So I can’t even comment about my weight, or the fact I’m losing it, cause I don’t want it to be something they focus on (I end up thinking they’re mentally calculating the 40+lbs back on my frame. Or thinking about how good I used to look). But it’s there. I’m not invisible.

Then to dating. I’ve noticed that I have an uncanny ability to tell when a guy is interested, or about to pick me up. In public, I mean. And I hate hate hate being hit on in public. But if it’s a guy I’ve chatted with for a bit, and decide to meet, I really can’t tell. I actually have no clue if he’s interested or not. It has to be said. Otherwise, I’m oblivious.

I was wondering why that was the other day, while I was swinging in the park (it’s a very meditative activity. I highly recommend it). It occurred to be that it’s some sort of residual survival instinct from being a pro. I’d have to evaluate a guy in the few seconds from him opening the door to me walking in and him shutting it. I had to know, instantly, whether I’d be safe or not. So, now, if it’s someone I want to be interested in, or might be interested in, or just someone to know for fun… I can’t. I can’t read them. It unbalances me.

I’ve also realized I’m kinda chasing that connection I had with J. It was just this instant click.

So now, it’s easy to lose interest. Cause if I can’t get that click, I don’t see the point. Or the guy will say something, and I’ll suddenly think to myself, fuck I’m bored. And like that, I’m done.

But… it’s better then toying with men. And it’s better then just giving into sex. I’ve realized a perverse pleasure in saying no. It’s an awesome word. I love it. But it’s also false empowerment.

Back to family.

I also have to get used to small talk. Small talk bores me. If I can’t get into an in depth discussion, I don’t want to speak. And there’s a lot of superficiality in that branch of my family. It’s just not stuff I care about. My life experience has been so vastly different that I get stuck on words and just listen and nod my head and murmur appropriately and daydream. Or find a corner and read.

One person I am looking forward to seeing. One of my younger cousins. Who doesn’t really know me, but seems to adore me regardless. I’m not crazy about kids, never have been. But she just has a spark that’s refreshing to be around. Crazy wild imagination too. Last time I saw her we build a fairy tale castle out of styrofoam and glitter. It was awesome.

At the very least though, it’ll bring some excitement.

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