Lost in Translation

I'm often misunderstood. Not in the teen angsty kinda way, but in the "I think I'm displaying one emotion but people interpret it as another". As if I hear myself speaking English but everyone else hears Chinese. This happened today and I must say I am extremely proud of myself for how I handled the situation. My current project has offered me insights into myself and I've come to realize things about how and why I react the way I do. I still have the reflex within to react but I'm better able to catch and keep it from coming into existance than I was before. 

Today Jigger asked me a question. If a certain something was possible to do in our current project. Because I'm a much more visual person and have difficulty explaining why things do or don't work, I decided to just design what he was asking so he could see why it wouldn't work. At the end of it, I did say "if you don't like the current design, just let me know and I'll change it". I even giggled a little as I said because the design is a bit goofy and doesn't 100% fit our theme but I liked it so I put it in. However I realize I'm not the only person working on this and if it was really just out of place I was more than happy to put something else. It was a moment I was in it. 

But apparently the "joking" I thought I was portraying came across as "bitch slapping pissed". Jigger got angry with me because he thought I was "angry" at him for asking me why I did what I did. This isn't the first time this has happened. 99% of the time when I'm joking/teasing/being playful I'm taken to be very serious. I cannot joke with anyone or tease them because my appearance and the way I sound is interpreted as me being angry. Which is odd for me because I feel as if I'm being playful. In my ears I sound as if I'm being playful, but apparently it doesn't come across that way. My expression for "playful" and "so pissed I could cut your head off and dig out your brains with a spoon" are exactly the same. I don't know how to change this. 

I admit I'm not a giggly bubbly airheaded hair flipping "oh my gawd" type female. I get that I'm more Pink than Snookie and I like that.  I like being strong. It's who I am. I don't want to change who I am fundamentally but at the same time I also don't want to start fights with people because no one gets what I mean. I'm unsure how to approach this or what to do about it. 

Is it my fault or does the other person bear some responsibility? I mean should they not at least "ask" if I'm pissed instead of assuming? I don't know. I'm still learning how to be human. I know I have trained people to understand 99.9% of the time I am pissed so this new found playfulness is strange for them. It's not something they're use to. I get that, but when does it stop being 100% my responsibility to ensure everyone around me understands I'm not about to fucking rip their heads off?! 

So today when Jigger flew into a rage, angry because he thought I was angry I instead got up and kissed him. Before I would have picked up the nearest object to me and began throwing until I couldn't lift my arms or until I was dripping with blood. On certain occasions I've even managed to do both simultaneously. But not this time. Even the rage I suppressed inside was not at atomic levels the way it would have been before. Somehow I've just come to a point where it's not worth it anymore to be right. Fuck it. I just don't want to fight anymore. No more yelling. No more throwing. No more bleeding. I'm tired. I'm done. Now how do I convince others of this? 

I have no fucking clue.

Confessional Rites

Lately I've been feeling the need for confessing. The rational part of my brain tells me this is unnecessary, but the other 3 billion irrational brain cells don't seem to understand that. The last few days I've spent confessing to Jigger. Things he didn't really want to hear or need to hear but I had to get out of me. In order to move on. I needed him to know so there's no surprises in the future. While I know it won't matter one way or the other, I NEEDED for him to know. But he doesn't get that. It irritates him when I get this way. He wants me to "let go of my past" and "not let it control me" but what he doesn't understand is that in order to do that I have to in a sense get rid of it physically and the only way I know how is to "confess". By telling, by putting it out there, then it's no longer a dark secret hidden in my closet. I think part of the reason I feel this incessant need for him to know maybe has to do with PTSD in a way. When I was younger I learned secrets were dirty and made those who kept them dirty as well. So by confessing to him in a way I feel like I'm ridding myself of the dirt and grime of the secret, but he doesn't get that. He grew up in a normal house with normal kid things. So at times he gets a bit frustrated with me but I think he's starting to see that it helps me in the long run if he can put up with the momentary unease. And snot. There is always lots of snot involved in these confessions which just pisses me off. I don't know why it is you snot when you cry or at least I snot when I cry but I become the human snot factory. It's bad enough I'm baring my soul but does it have to include bodily fluids? So yea I've been confessing the last few days I think I'm about done and can move on. Until the next one comes.

Jitter Bug

I am a big nervous furball of energy. Blah I hate when I work myself into these anxious moments. In my head I know it will be ok. I know nothing truly horrific is going to happen. It's a few minutes. An hour tops but yet my whole body is trembling with anxiousness. There are several reasons. All of which have combined together into the perfect storm. Breathe. If I tell myself enough maybe I'll remember to.

Orgasmic Epiphanies

I like playing with words. Over words, written words, not spoken words. I'm still a slave to the spoken word. I dance and jump and twist and bow whenever it commands, but the written word I am its puppet master. Pulling its strings and making them dance to whatever tune I dream up. 

I didn't realize how important it is for me to write here. Until I didn't and then did. After writing those few snippets of syllables yesterday I felt as if I had exhaled for the first time in a month. The pressure in my chest eased and the chaos in my mind slowed. I need to vent here more often even if it's senseless drivel. It helps to empty the vortex in my brain that seems to suck everything into it. In real life,I don't have a voice. At times I feel like I'm in a freak show on display. Seen but not seen. Maybe it's all in my head but it seems very real. Prying eyes of unwelcomed strangers staring at me. Whispering because they think I'm too stupid or ignorant to understand. Not knowing I can read every word they say and even the ones they don't. 

I'm sort of in a weird place. Living a life I don't hate but that isn't the exact of what I want it to be and not knowing how to solve this inbetween existance I've come to accept for myself. The last few weeks I've been numbing myself. Killing my emotions. Not letting myself feel. Just existing, breathing, day to day. Unfeeling. Moving from one stop to the next. Avoiding the real issues. Pretending I don't see them until they're too many and explode. Like they did the other night. Now I'm once again picking up pieces of me. Bits and pieces scattered here and there. Trying to collect them back into the whole of me. Filling up the empty bits, gluing together the broken ones. 

Yes I have to visit here more often. It's revitalizing. Better than Calgon.

UnWording

I just realized how long it's been since I wrote here. Sometimes the days blend together into one big blob and I forget they're really individual entities. Moving along through the universe, pulling me along with them. Then it suddenly  stops and I jolt forward, awkward into the silence of tomorrow.