For Sharon—

Sharon, from the comment you made to my post below, I know you must feel that you mean well by passing along “the perfect scripture” and to remind me that the people at the church are my friends. However, while on the surface everyone is nice—and I acknowledge that they have been there when I have needed them during trying times by praying for me—as soon as I walk out the door, that’s it. Yes, A and I actually had lunch the Thursday before my debacle; she brought me my cell phone before I was transferred to the psych ward, and has texted me a couple of times since (which I have patently refused to respond). D did call once after I missed the second service wondering if I was OK or sick, or something; and no, I did not return her call either.

It’s not that I believe they don’t care. I believe there is an intrinsic obligation from Godly Christians to feel they “ought” to care because it is their duty. There is no friendship base there. There is no level playing field. I have nothing in common with anyone. I am the only single, queer, mental case of the lot. How could anyone possible begin to relate to me—to be able to truly “get it?” A friend is someone who is there no matter what whenever you need them. And I can’t operate with just one friend because, realistically speaking, one person may not be able to be “there” due to his or her own personal obligations at that time. Everyone at the church is married and has (or will be having) children. They are all wrapped up in their own lives and obligations. I am a mere blip on the radar screen. With the exception of A and D, there has never been any interaction outside of church (and those were limited at best and the one time A and I actually made plans, I had to initiate the action—something that I am extremely uncomfortable doing). OK, yes, A was truly there when I needed her as she did bring me my cell phone. But as with all of the couples, my only down time is after 1900 on weekdays and weekends—the time they all spend with their spouses/family. I feel as though I am an intruder taking away from their time together. And I don’t want to be the fifth wheel, either—easily the situation since I am the only single person there.

There are just too many people at the church right now. When I walk through those doors, I feel paralyzed for fear that someone will speak to me. I have felt, crossing that threshold of just wanting to stand there and quietly walk out the door, hoping that no one notices me. I can’t be myself, so I put on my façade and pretend that all is well. What should I say? That I am full of uncontrollable rage; don’t forget that I am queer and missing being a part of that community I so desperately want to belong; oh yeah, and by the way, I tried to commit suicide—and most likely will again (it’s all I think about. But have no fear, I will not make the same mistake I did last time)? I don’t want to have scripture quoted to me; I don’t want to be prayed for. I just want to be left alone. You see, that is the conundrum that bipolar and borderline personality persons face. I ache so much for contact, yet at the same time, I am repulsed by it. I can’t walk into a room full of people without feeling so full of fear and anxiety. I don’t expect you, or any of the others to understand that.

So, that brings everything back full circle. No one at the church can possibly understand what I am going through, much less know who the real “me” is. All interactions have been and would continue to be quite superficial at best. I am tired of the façade I must present every single Sunday. Sure, I let my hair down when I was facing that strike, being laid off, and that Six Sigma training I was terrified of taking—but those issues in and of themselves are also superficial. I won’t share anything about who Alix really is for fear that I will become someone to avoid so that they don’t have to deal with my “issues.” Then when that happens, everything has boiled to the surface and, once again, I will see their subtle detachment slowly begin to occur as I have seen with other people to whom I have attempted to reach out over the years of my life. Very simply put, I am tired of the rollercoaster ride—my life such as it is. I’m done with it all.

Surprised as I am, I appreciate the time you took to make the comment. I am not trying to trivialize your effort, but the simplistic approach of dashing off a scripture and telling me of course that I still have a group of friends only validates my perceptions, hence this post.©2009

The Pursuit of Anonymity

The shaft of light pierces my soul to a depth I’ve never seen
The revelation brought forth is both eerie and serene at the same time.
I’m going nowhere, yet pursuing and engulfing everything in my path

I’ve nothing to hide behind; all is out there for the world to see
If I had a choice I’d stay tucked away in a small quiet corner
Yet something inside yearns to burst through and blare to the world.

“I’m here!” I cry silently, hoping someone will hear
“It’s me, don’t you understand?” falls upon deaf ears and the world doesn’t care
But do I want the world to care, do I want it to notice me at all?

I yearn to be invisible so that I mark my passage of time uneventfully
I opt for all choices that don’t involve other human beings in every way I can
I have no use for social interaction; it’s is but just a blot of insignificance

I perceive the world and everything in it as loosely held together dots along a map
People don’t know the people they think they know
People see personas, often craftily created to prevent us from seeing the reality

I do this all of the time. I craft this unique guise to fit the circumstance I am in
I’ve honed this knack with precision as never seen before
I am who I am when I want to be who I am.

There is life in anonymity—there is no one to whom I have to be accountable.
Yet, at times, I crave the attention the anonymity creates.
This is my double-edged sword. I want my cake and eat it too.

No one, absolutely know who I really a from the inside out
Only the shells I wish for them to perceive, my safety net.
If I show you who I really am, will you still like me?

Creating these elaborate personas that must be kept intact bespeaks of infidelity to self and all who appear to give care
How do you tell someone who thinks is a good friend only to discover the lying and deception that goes along for the ride?
No, I rather enjoy my compartmentalized structure to my life.

Facts in existence; I am a person who faces fear of rejection every day of my life
If I don’t put my real life on the line, the rejection of is the facade created, not of the true me
I am the spider that said to the fly: " I will trap you in a provocative web to spin your tales to protect your innermost self."©2007