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Jun. 22nd, 2010 09:56 pm((I maintain, since I had another complaint that my livejournal was too depressing1, that this is a happy entry. Or at the very least, an introspective entry. Shutup, it's my journal, and I will introspect if I want to.))
So, I'm an introvert, yeah? Given an extended amount of time around a lot of people, I will start to get unhappy and offcenter. This results in me being short-tempered, and less able to cope with things than usual. Very bad. Luckily, it's easy to fix --I go spend a couple minutes-hours-days by myself, and bam, I am back to my usual smiling self.
Right, fine, that all makes sense.
Except for the fact that I do *massively* better when I get to regularly interact with whoever's at the top of the list of people I like. Spending every night over at some sweet thing's house may make my brain start to whine a little, but it also means that I don't have panic attacks.
Seriously. To put it more directly, kissing keeps me from freaking out.
...yeah, I don't really know how to feel about this either. Or rather, I do know my usual reaction to things like this --to be uncomfortable with the dependence on others it illustrates. But the thing is...I like kissing. And cuddling, and snuggling and dancing and physical intimacy, and *conversation*, oh gods, I love good conversation with smart people. Hanging out with people I love, really LOVE, calms my brain down and helps me retain my sometimes fragile stability. I've more or less been aware of this fact for a long time now --when did I actually start asking for help when I was breaking down again? Yeah, that.
Of course, I'm still shit at actually seeking the help when I'm in the middle of a breakdown. I don't really think anyone's good at that skill, and if they are...well...they probably need the help a lot less than the rest of us honestly. But it occurs to me that there's a corollary to the skill, and that's keeping whatever ethereal shield protects me from hitting the breaking point in the first place full. Which means talking to people I like (and people I love), and snuggling and hugging and kissing and all the rest of it. Oh. Darn. That'll suck for me.
On second read, this entry doesn't *really* make a lot of sense, which is why this is a journal and not a blag. Blags are for people who can actually write essays to turn into entries, like JoshZed or my math teacher. That's okay, I like journaling an awful lot, so you guys will have to just deal or somesuch. Ta!
~Sor
MOOP!
1: I maintain that my livejournal is *not* too depressing. Given twenty public entries, they're about evenly split between positive and negative emotions. You all just don't register the happy entries as often, because happy is boring. So nyah.
Also, wow this is passive aggressive.
P.S: Yes, this is just me talking around the fact that I leave for Origins tomorrow, and it's going to be...heh. Look on the bright side. If I spend less than 24 hours crying, I've already had a better year than last! FUCK YEAH!
...'kay, that was a little depressed. Sorry mom.
So, I'm an introvert, yeah? Given an extended amount of time around a lot of people, I will start to get unhappy and offcenter. This results in me being short-tempered, and less able to cope with things than usual. Very bad. Luckily, it's easy to fix --I go spend a couple minutes-hours-days by myself, and bam, I am back to my usual smiling self.
Right, fine, that all makes sense.
Except for the fact that I do *massively* better when I get to regularly interact with whoever's at the top of the list of people I like. Spending every night over at some sweet thing's house may make my brain start to whine a little, but it also means that I don't have panic attacks.
Seriously. To put it more directly, kissing keeps me from freaking out.
...yeah, I don't really know how to feel about this either. Or rather, I do know my usual reaction to things like this --to be uncomfortable with the dependence on others it illustrates. But the thing is...I like kissing. And cuddling, and snuggling and dancing and physical intimacy, and *conversation*, oh gods, I love good conversation with smart people. Hanging out with people I love, really LOVE, calms my brain down and helps me retain my sometimes fragile stability. I've more or less been aware of this fact for a long time now --when did I actually start asking for help when I was breaking down again? Yeah, that.
Of course, I'm still shit at actually seeking the help when I'm in the middle of a breakdown. I don't really think anyone's good at that skill, and if they are...well...they probably need the help a lot less than the rest of us honestly. But it occurs to me that there's a corollary to the skill, and that's keeping whatever ethereal shield protects me from hitting the breaking point in the first place full. Which means talking to people I like (and people I love), and snuggling and hugging and kissing and all the rest of it. Oh. Darn. That'll suck for me.
On second read, this entry doesn't *really* make a lot of sense, which is why this is a journal and not a blag. Blags are for people who can actually write essays to turn into entries, like JoshZed or my math teacher. That's okay, I like journaling an awful lot, so you guys will have to just deal or somesuch. Ta!
~Sor
MOOP!
1: I maintain that my livejournal is *not* too depressing. Given twenty public entries, they're about evenly split between positive and negative emotions. You all just don't register the happy entries as often, because happy is boring. So nyah.
Also, wow this is passive aggressive.
P.S: Yes, this is just me talking around the fact that I leave for Origins tomorrow, and it's going to be...heh. Look on the bright side. If I spend less than 24 hours crying, I've already had a better year than last! FUCK YEAH!
...'kay, that was a little depressed. Sorry mom.
