Consequences of Living Differently

Changing Shape

I think the hardest part about changing my habits, especially my internal, mental habits, is the effect on the relationships with the people closest to me. While I know they love and support me, they are so used to my old ways of responding to the world that they don’t know how to handle my new responses. Their reactions can make me feel like they’d rather I just return to my old self. My new shape is uncomfortable for them.

I get it, especially when I am in a messy place of not having any clue what I am doing. Living in a new way is way more difficult and confusing than advertised. It’s not enough to get rid of bad habits and negative thoughts. They need to be replaced with something better. In my experience, that takes a lot of trial-and-error, intentional decisions, and many, many mistakes. It’s miserable at times and the reason Real Change takes years of work.

If you’ve read any of my previous entries, you already know that the past 2+ months have been emotionally tumultuous. I 100% understand that my moodiness is challenging to be around. Amplifying this, I work with teens who are easily triggered. This requires me to maintain a stoic and positive demeanor in front of them. While I can definitely express frustration over certain situations, an air of peaceful neutrality in necessary. As a result, when I get home, my temper is feistier than usual until I have a moment to release the restrained emotion.

So, since the end of September, I’ve been dealing with some hugely emotional circumstances in my personal life, while managing the stressful learning curve of my new job. In all honesty, while things have been rough, I think I’m doing pretty well. At least, I can see how I’ve grown. Even though I have periods of intense anxiety, I’m able to navigate my way to the calm place. I don’t feel ashamed of setbacks at work, and it doesn’t take me too long to reset after I get home.

However, all of this is being done in front of the audience of my family. They’ve noticed that I’ve been moody, but they don’t have a frame of reference to know that this is better. They never personally witnessed the angsty, temperamental stress-ball that arrived home from SLPS all those years. I’m a hot mess, yes, but I’m more like a compost heap than an exploded pressure cooker. Good things are happening and there’s potential for more.

I’ve tried talking to my parents about what’s going on, but they don’t seem to want to know. At least, they don’t want to know the real stuff. Griping about a bureaucratic coworker is one thing, but attempting to talk about how I’m facing a crossroads central to my identity? Nope. Every time I’ve alluded to my deeper concerns and bigger triumphs, the subject gets changed.

I’m not sure why they don’t want to hear what’s going on, but I do know they’ve been worried about me. Among other things, they returned to fretting over my food allergies and what I can eat. Over a year ago, we had a frank conversation about how I can handle my allergies. They are my responsibility and I will ask if I need help. I don’t need outside intervention. I reminded them that my least favorite part about my restrictions is being put in the position of having to repeatedly reassure others that I’m fine. This includes dining companions apologizing over my limited choices or people sharing stories that begin, “I know you can’t eat this, but…”

I suspect they returned to this old concern because, in their minds, it’s a safer topic. A safer way to show they care. I’ve talked to them about it and they’ve backed off, but it really hurts my feelings that they’d prefer to focus on a non-issue instead of learning about what’s actually important to me.

I’m also hurt because I’ve talked with them at length about my struggles with feeling disregarded. Not by them specifically, but in other circumstances. I’ve been open about stepping away from people who refuse to hear me. I would’ve hoped that they’d understand, especially in light of my private nature, that if I bring up a more personal topic, I want to be taken seriously.

Right now, things are not good. It’s Sunday and I haven’t seen either of my parents since Thursday afternoon. I was venting about something admittedly minor that touched on some bigger frustrations. My dad was completely unsympathetic. Basically, he condemned me for having the same kind of temper that he has. I’m sure I sounded annoyingly petty and childish in my rant, but his words to me completely crossed the line. I’d already been feeling like he just wants me to be cheerful and pleasant, and this just confirmed it.

My mom wasn’t involved but I don’t want to talk to either of them. I’d been working up the fortitude to address the smaller slights, but this is too much right now. I feel hypocritical because I keep advocating for conversation and addressing conflict. At the same time, I am tired of being put in the position of trying to get people to listen to me. And, in this case, I can’t address what happened Thursday without going over all the backstory they avoided learning about over the past several weeks.

I don’t know what I am going to do.