Nothing in this world is complicated, only misunderstood.
If there is such a thing as the most simplistic creature on this cursed planet, it must be me.
It is frustrating to be misunderstood when everything about me is so simple. Most people probably feel the same about themselves. I hope.
If I say “A” and another person hears “B”.
Is it me?
Is it poor communication?
Is it a different perspective that might be a good thing to consider?
The last few months have been strange.
I have been in discussions with a person and spent a lot of time thinking about those discussions.
Normally, this sort of thing would send me into very dark places, but this time it has not. This whole thing is very odd.
One example is when a commanding officer, after promoting me twice in less than a year, commented how I was “aggressively passive”.
He said I was very quiet but went after my goals very aggressively. No one else had ever used that exact term, but he wasn’t the last to say something similar. I was that way in sports in high school and academics in college.
I just kept at it and never quit. That is the big secret.
I think a lot of my success, such that it was, was due to not being all that noticeable. Not being noticeable also got me a different kind of reputation in the Army which bothered me at the time, but now I think it’s funny, and I wish I was still physically capable of it.
This is no claim of intelligence. I might have gotten good grades, but it took 12-14 hours a day during classes, seven days a week, plus 6+ hours every day outside of semesters.
I was also very aggressive in pursuing Irishka and even mentioned to her how she makes me very aggressive. She laughed.
Well, for me, I was aggressive, and it nearly got me everything I wanted in life.
She did call me “Dragon”. I do not know why, but I guess it is not because I am aggressive.
When I said “aggressively passive” the therapist said “Yes”!
She took it to mean that I am aggressive in my passivity or something similar. Gah!
I left feeling very misunderstood and thought she just wanted to hear what she wanted.
I have been giving those sessions a lot of thought every day. As much as I can remember.
After about a week, I realized that she wasn’t wrong, well not entirely. I do aggressively protect myself, which might lead to being very passive which keeps me safe.
From her perspective, that is a bad thing. But is it? It makes sense to me. She takes behaviors and standards for what is good for a normal human and applies those to me.
Is that wrong?
She has me doubting myself, but I hope that I am not opening myself up to get stomped to pieces again.
It seems that I am being led to ruin. I mean pulled into being more social. I don’t want a close relationship with anyone new, so that will minimize the damage it could cause.
I did what she asked, and it was awkward for all involved. I need to ask her what she is expecting and what I should do. I am lost.
There was an assignment that was given early on. I have completed it, but it has been taking a long time to present it.
It caused me to analyze the most turbulent time in my life. The four years after my ex-wife left me.
I met some of the best people and a lot of the worst. I was not well during this time.
Yet it was, by far, my most socially active time.
I could have picked five people from this time for the assignment, but I am only going to talk about two, both very positive influences on me.
That seems odd because much of how I look at myself has to do with many other people from this time. I could do this assignment three times over and have people left over.
It is mindboggling how terrible I was doing and yet how social I was.
Much of it was desperation, and many women took advantage of me, played games, etc.
And yet, I could contact more than a few of them today, and they would talk to me.
Despite being super nuts, I was a good friend. That is probably the only good thing I can say about myself.
I was doing well in college until I ran out of gas and had to move. The last semester was rough. I had a stalker that I finally got rid of early on — don’t ask — and also an odd but wonderful history instructor.
She was a grad student and was super nice to me, an adorable lady. Very cute.
We would talk before and after class and even had lunch now and again. I was walking to another building, and she caught up and started talking to me. That was a first, instructor or not.
I was right on the edge of ending up back in the looney bin, so I was cautious with her, and I regret it. At that point, she could have been the one, but she was also helping me more than she should have and was risking her position. She was the last person I met in Arizona, and I am fortunate she was nice. A soft breeze could have ripped me apart.
Still, I should have asked her out, but I was so passive and messed up. Perhaps if I asked her out, I would have stayed in Arizona, which would have been for the best.
It was dangerous, which makes me sad. She was wonderful.
One reason I was heading back to the psych ward was my awful therapist at the time.
She was calling the police on me almost weekly to conduct “wellness checks.” I think she was just being vindictive. It made everything more difficult and stressful. I believe the police were also tired of it. After a few weeks, the visits lasted only 30 seconds, and they were happy to leave me alone.
That therapist didn’t understand me in the slightest and didn’t care to.
She just wanted to hurt me, and she was pretty successful. Not that it is a difficult thing to do.
I want to think that my current therapist is different. She isn’t antagonistic, and I sense no evil intent in her words. I am not as broken and lost as I was, so I think I can deal with therapy better.
One time, I mentioned that I was a little aggressive in an earlier session, and I think she was at least a little amused by the notion.
I don’t believe she realizes how aggressive and confrontational I am towards her since she doesn’t know me well.
Maybe she does know but doesn’t care that I am?
She seems to want to push me to be more assertive.
I find myself bewildered and unsure of how I landed in a psychologist’s office. Despite my attempts to halt the inexplicable series of events that led me here, I remained powerless. It’s strange to admit, but I’m not certain if this is a positive or negative development, and I feel compelled to confide in her.
That is different and terrifying.