Why I am not Normal

The subject of “status” constantly raises its head, and supposedly it is something that people care about deeply. Personally, I don’t understand it. Why on earth would you care what other people think of you? It has never concerned me in the least. But maybe it is because I am quite an anti-social person. My ideal life would be one of near-total isolation. Frankly I don’t respect most other people, so what does it matter if they don’t respect me? And for the most part status isn’t even very useful to me. I don’t have a lot of needs. I’m not trying to say that interpersonal relationships are worthless, just that I don’t want a lot of them, and that at least in what I want from them, they don’t have much to do with status. Friendship is not zero-sum.

However, one area where status is very useful is when it comes to the opposite sex. You may think that given the above paragraph that I’m some sort of hate-filled hermit, but the truth is I’m actually something of a closet romantic. Perhaps the two attitudes are linked – the fact that I feel so alienated from most people makes me particularly susceptible to the dangerous myth that there is some soulmate out there who truly understands me. Intellectually, I know it’s bunk. And even worse, on a practical level, none of my romantic entanglements have been worth the trouble. That said, I freely confess that I don’t have a great deal of experience; being an anti-social low-status misanthrope doesn’t exactly attract huge numbers of women. I’ve only had a handful of girlfriends, so it would be absurd to write off relationships at this stage.

All that said, experiences like last night do make me question why I bother with women. Logically, I know this is an overreaction, but I am already on dangerous ground from a mental health perspective, and it clouds my emotional thinking. I have been going through these negative patterns about why I bother with life, and it’s not good to have yet another set of pathological thoughts. I am starting a new job next month and I cannot afford a relapse. I am lucky to be getting the position and I won’t get more chances like it. Yet at the same time I don’t want to go back on the anti-depressants, and I can’t afford counselling (the NHS queue is just ridiculously long). So with apologies to Sister Y, I’ll take any meaning I can get right now. I am going on holiday to Morocco on Saturday and hopefully that will change my state.

I don’t know what is the long-term solution here. Everything looks like a dead end right now.


One response to this post.

  1. You don’t have to apologize for finding meaning in life. Morocco sounds like a good place to start.


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