I received the most interesting comment Friday. Yes, I approved it, but I am also going to reply here. I know many of my readers have questions, and some valid points are made here, albeit in a strange, attacking manner.
Read the comment first, and then I will answer the points made.
First of all, welcome to being a world class troll. You know my name, but I am sure you are not a turn-of-the-century British actor. Classy name choice though.
First point I have to discuss: “Seriously, we know that you are mentally ill, God knows that you’ve pounded it into the head of your readers ad nauseam…”
I think you are missing the point of this blog, dear reader. This blog is about my mental illness. It’s called Terminally Intelligent because of the link between high intelligence and mental illness combined with the (understandable) high correlation of mental illness and suicide. This is my own personal place to reflect on my mental illness. I just share it because so many of my friends have had questions over the years.
Next: “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself whining constantly?”
Yes. Yes I do. I feel guilty every time I put a post up. This blog paints the worst possible image of myself, and I am terrified and ashamed EVERY TIME. I don’t write this blog as an angst filled monologue. If it comes off that way, I’m very, very sorry.
I write this blog in the effort to help other people understand me, and other mentally ill people. I pray every time a post goes up that, “I hope this one post helps someone.”
Next: “…constantly lament over how dreadful your parents were…”
This is just absurd. If I constantly lamented how dreadful my parents were, I could write a post every single day for the next fifteen years, and still feel like I haven’t said everything. My parents were sex traffickers, drug maker/seller/users, abusive in every possible way, and extraordinarily mentally ill. I’m not defending my “lamentation,” I’m just hoping that you can understand that every once in a while, I will write about my past. I can’t change what that past was. If I wanted to play the victim, then I would bemoan these things to my friends and colleagues. Instead, I write about it in this online journal, in the hopes that it can make a difference.
Next: “…how unstable and ‘ fragile ‘ you are, how life is just so ‘ draining and fatiguing ‘ for you…”
I can’t argue with this. I make a point of telling people how fragile and unstable I am. Life is extraordinarily draining for me.
But I can explain why I talk about it. I am constantly told that I am one of the most steadfast people someone knows. I have been lauded as a “safe place,” an “unshakable confidant,” and a “genuinely good-hearted person.” I talk about how hard that is, because so many people in the world suffer, and nobody knows any better. No matter how many times I have tried to explain to people that I have a hard time being “strong” for others, people always put too much faith in me.
Then the other foot drops. I have a bad day, which may mean I’m cranky, and may mean I’m violent. If I can’t go to work, I just can’t go to work. It is just that way for me sometimes. I feel guilty, and cowardly. I feel like a world class jerk, and I feel like a drama queen. Those things aren’t true though.
The truth is that I struggle. I have a hard time sometimes. I write about those struggles so that others who struggle might have words for their own pain. I have received dozens of emails, Facebook comments, and shares. There is so much gratitude in those comments that sometimes, I don’t know what to do with it. So I write.
Next: “How sounds/smells/textures set you off and God forbid someone touch you, because you can lash out and to tell people just accept it and walk away slowly is an utter pile of fecal matter!”
Oh, God yes. I totally see what you are saying. But you have missed a critical point here. I don’t lash out. I just don’t. I haven’t responded violently to a person’s touch in years. Instead, I flinch. I cry. I walk away, without saying a word.
People often get their feelings hurt, because I just walk away. I don’t have the words for it at the time. The thing is, it’s embarrassing, and when I tell people what’s going on in my head at the time, they feel guilty. By explaining things here, I hope to provide my friends context for future interactions.
But I don’t expect my friends to accept it if I go off. I’m asking my friends to understand my idiosyncrasies. I actually have specific friends who have taken it upon themselves to tell me when I’m being socially inappropriate. It’s a huge favor they do for me, because they are helping me be a better person.
Next one is kind of funny: “Your fiance Jennie’s [sic] kids have names don’t they?? The Boy…. The Girl….. sounds creepy and sociopathic.”
First of all, they are not my kids. They are, as you so kindly pointed out, my fiance’s children. It is not my place to tell their story publicly, nor is it my place to divulge personal information about them. Jenny and I talked at length about what she was comfortable with in reference to this blog. The first decision we made was to not use the kids’ names. I refer to them as the Boy and the Girl, because I respect their mother’s wishes.
Next up: “You obviously need attention, on a desperate level, and I feel very sorry for your partner Jennie [sic], who is either a door-mat with such low self esteem that she puts up with your eccentricities and sexual juggling act or she’s a Saint, who’s to know.”
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to brag on my soon-to-be-wife.
Jenny is a fucking bad-ass. She takes shit from nobody, and is a saint. She is the kindest person I have ever met. For reference, she believes that this is the only life we have, and that nothing and no one is worth hatred. Except my mother, who she totally would put on a hit list if it weren’t illegal.
She makes my day better every day. She accepts me for who I am. Know why? My personal motto is “personal responsibility.” I own my actions. I clean up my own messes. I support my family, and love her children. I am not abusive, mean, or violent. I will not stand for anyone treating her or her kids poorly. I would literally die for any one of them. I have made the choice to live for them as well. I will never hurt them, or leave them with the empty hole I would create if I died. I will fight to be healthy, fit, and living, because I have love, and that love deserves to be put to use, not wasted.
Finally: “For people with mental illness, this blog site is not uplifting or empowering, unless whining and self pity are on the agenda.”
I can see why you say that. Happily, I have had many emails thanking me for standing up and opening myself up to everyone. I sometimes make the mentally ill feel less alone. I help others put their illness in perspective. I have had people approach me both online and in person, asking for advice, or perspective. I’m not trying to brag when I say that more than ten people have told me that they are currently seeking treatment for their own mental illness because of their interactions with me.
For perspective, that’s one a month average, since I started this blog.
I think I’m doing just fine, thank you very much. I hope I have answered all of your questions. Please, continue to comment. I’d love to hear what you say.
My love to all of you!