We all have a thing, or things. Something that makes us uncomfortable, something that makes us different. Sometimes others also share that thing, but since they are not exactly like us, it still sets us apart. We all have a broken place, one that we know is different, we know others don’t feel the same way. We get it, we don’t necessarily like it, but we get it.
As you get older you start to accept that to a certain extent, that is just how I am. Perhaps I could exert the energy and focus myself for long enough (and it always takes a long, long time to change ourselves) to change that part of me. We don’t mostly because of all the areas we are broken, that one seems the least troublesome. It (whatever it is) does sometimes rear its head and show itself to others, but mostly it just hums along in the background.
I have a friend who doesn’t like to be touched unless he initiates it. It generally isn’t a problem, but occasionally it is for him. He hasn’t tried to change, partially because he is not sure he can, partially because he is not sure he should, partially because he is not convinced his life would be better if that went away.
I have a thing too, my thing is not his thing, my thing is my thing. I seem to give off the impression that I don’t care much about what is happening. I am not sure if it is just my expression, or my body language, or both, or some aura of disapproval or something entirely different. What is fascinating to me is that I am not aloof at all, I care deeply, I think I hold myself carefully because I don’t rally want to show people everything I am feeling, I don’t want to let much water through the gap, in case the whole dam bursts and people see everything.
Now, having said that, I also experience in times of stress that everyone can read my stress, or frustration, or whatever. It seems like my wall comes down too much in those times. I would like to show more normally and less in stressful times. I want to make that change, but not enough to actually change it, if you know what I mean.
It is part of who I am, and that’s just the way my brain is broken. It’s probably not the way your brain is broken, but I have come to appreciate they are all broken, just differently from each other.