Can I Trust You?

CW: Abuse, anxiety, depression, bad stuff

Kindness makes me nervous. If someone is nice to me, especially if they don't have any reason to be, I don't trust the authenticity of their kindness. This isn't a modern phenomena or a reaction to surrounding myself in parasocial relationships, I don't trust kindness and I never have.

In my mind, kindness is kind of like showing up at school with fancy clothes. People are being kind to show off their moral superiority. I'm a bitter hate-filled flesh bag full of sardonic japes and vitriol, but you are kind and helpful. It's like they're trying to show how much better they are then me, or rather they're showing just how horrible and miserable I am. Why would anyone want to talk to something like me? These are the toxic thoughts that seep into my mind. It's full of jealousy, spite, and resentment.

I was always a pity project growing up. I was a spiteful miserable depressed wretch that was just as likely to bite someone as I was to bash my head into something. Everyone could see that something was wrong with me and those that came to talk to me wanted to prove something about their own morality. I know this because I was a worthless friend. I had nothing to offer, not even kindness, not even gratitude, but still people tried to talk to me. I would lash out at people for being kind. There was a part of me that hated them for trying. If I wasn't so repugnant, they never would've talked to me. That's the thing about being a pathetic loser, you're so atypical that it literally challenges other's world view.

I think I've fed into my self loathing enough, let's try to take a step back.

So I'm going to pretend for a second that I'm healthy and normal. If I was healthy, why should I have a problem with kindness? Well, kindness is a social transaction. Someone did something nice for you so that means they should be more important to you. If they're not, then you're a bad person. If you don't remember kindness and return it than something is wrong with you: you're not a good friend or a kind person or a grateful human being. Selfish people don't care about gestures of kindness shown to them. Once someone is kind to me I have to prove that I care about them by being able to return the favor, by regarding them as being more important than others who haven't shown me kindness. Kindness is a forced social contract whereby I must repay that kindness or prove my complete lack of morality.

Saying "I love you," is very similar to this. People don't just say "I love you," because they're sharing. They want to know that the feeling is reciprocated or they want to know that you understand how important you are and that you're willing to repay that love. There is a transactional nature to saying "I love you," it's why people wait for a reply. How many love stories use the reciprocated confession of love to build tension? It always works. The audience doesn't go, "the person who said, 'I love you' is being silly." No, they wonder why the other person doesn't love them back. If they loved them, why wouldn't they just say "I love you" back? They shouldn't have to. Kindness shouldn't come with strings attached, but it does...and it does all too often. And if I wasn't trying to improve myself we might stop there.

In trying to deal with my trauma I had to come face to face with some ugly facts. When I was sexually abused, my love was used against me: "Don't you love me?" Social norms and morality compelled me to do things I didn't like: "It's the right thing to do." Kindness was given with an implied quid pro quo: "That's the thanks I get." This never had to be apart of my life growing up, it just was. The truth is that this was apart of my abuse and everything that followed was me trying to rationalize the pain, fear, and apprehension that kindness gave me. And the stupidest part about all of this is that my objections became another reason for my feelings to be disregarded.

I can't write that without thinking about how stupid and selfish I'm being - that I'm constructing a narrative of abuse so that I can be special or forgive my terrible behavior. I have so little faith in myself that I don't even believe in my own abuse story. But I'm not going to run away from this. If people think I'm making things up, so be it. I know that I'm the weirdo that never fit in. I get that, but I don't know how to get better with at least entertaining these self absorbed thoughts.

I've always struggled with trust and it took me a long time to find a group of friends that I was willing to open up to. I gave them my love and my trust and they turned their back on me the second it became inconvenient to hang out with me. Some were turned against me and others I pushed away. Maybe I pushed all of them away, I don't know. What I do know is that something happened that took away what little trust I gained in the people and that's really all that's important to this.

Far too much of my life is spent online, but this is the world that my horrible behavior has earned me. I'm surrounded by people who have a social obligation to be kind and it's been hard. I'm surrounded by kind phrases and I don't know who to believe. For a time I was content to just believe that this was a part of themselves that they were choosing to share. I chose to buy in to the positivity on Twitter's WritingCommunity and for awhile it worked. Then the same thing that always happens, happened again. I was ex-communicated from a group of people I cared about. I've been trying to process this, but it festers and rots at me from the inside. Once again I don't believe kindness, only removed statements that could be true for anyone, or cruelty. Once again I find myself not being able to trust or form meaningful bonds with people. I keep thinking: "how long before they turn on me?"

So how do I move forward?

I know that there is kindness. I've seen people do nice things where I couldn't possible pay them back. I've done it for others myself. But I shouldn't NEED to have no way of people paying me back. I should be able to experience kindness without apprehension. I know that I have a problem with kindness and love and trust and friendship, but I don't know how to move forward. Opening myself up continues to hurt me so I'm left to dwell on self deprecating thoughts. As a participant in my own abuse, I am to blame for my own misery and suffering. As a person who never learns how to get along with people I am to blame for my own isolation. And on and on my mind spirals.

I've learned tools to help me cope, breathing, identifying panic attacks, talking about my issues, and things like that, and they help to minimize the symptoms of my problems. But that's all it feels like, minimizing symptoms. It doesn't feel easier to open up to people, only harder. I'm fighting back against my misery, but it feels like I'm just holding a door closed. Sooner or later my arms will give out and they'll get inside. It feels bleak and I don't mean to alarm anyone, this is just who I am and how I think. So much of selling books these days is propping a person up like they're a beacon of awesome. Well what if the person isn't awesome? What if they're flawed and damaged and filled with darkness? Do we still hold up that misery into that spotlight, or is my relentless negativity a death sentence? Those are intrusive thoughts, I know. I just don't know how to be myself without being damaged. I'm sorry.