The other day, I wrote something about how ageing (spelled correctly, btw. It’s a British/Australian English thing.) is starting to scare me a little bit. I also started thinking about my birthdays growing up.
When I was a kid, a lot of my friends/classmates would have these parties at restaurants and skating rinks. I’d get invited to go, but I wouldn’t actually go. My parents never (except once or twice) let me go anyway, but you know something? That was okay for me. I never really liked big gatherings of people and that’s true up to now. I never really liked being the centre of attention or have that feeling that everybody’s looking at me.
At the same time, my birthday parties were usually family only. There were only a few times when my friends would come by and that was when I was an adult. I just didn’t really see a need because as I said, I hated the attention.
You’d think that I would be mad, upset, or regretful that I didn’t do any of that. My childhood was quite lonely except I had a sister and we’d basically just hang out with each other. What bothered me though is when she grew up and moved on from wanting to hang around her little brother. After that, I was a bit alone, but as I’ve said, that was okay. Now this is going to sound pretty shitty, but I wished that my dad had done more with me. He was always too busy hanging out with his best friend. He’d go over there after work, drink, then come back home (usually drunk). I think that he knew more about his best friend’s son than me, which is sad. He did more with his best friend’s son than me which yeah, didn’t feel that great. That’s why I was more of a momma’s boy. My mom seemed to stay in this depression. I’m not really sure how you describe it, but I’m sure she felt the same way where she was tired of my dad being away all the time and more or less, being unsupportive. Looking back at it now and the way she is today, no wonder I am not more social than I am. I just thought that being by yourself and doing your own thing all the time was normal behaviour. It’s come to haunt me a lot in my adult life. (And I don’t want to paint my dad as a monster either. He actually got a LOT better when I was in my late teens, but the damage had already been done.)
I think that’s why I am contemplating my age right now because I think that if I had been more social, outgoing, and all, life would be so much different. My jobs require me to be extremely social and it’s extremely hard for me. I have to really struggle to not let my stunted social upbringing bother me. It takes a huge amount of energy just to get through some days because it’s hard for me to actually TALK to people. Does that make sense?
I find myself getting jealous that people can be so social with other people. I really wish that I could somehow be them and be less shy, closed, and quiet.
But you know something else? I am quite a caring guy. I’m nice and kind (mostly). I do actually care about people’s feelings. I like to see the good in all people (until they severely fuck that up). I don’t hate any person, people in general, or hate being around people. I do need some social interaction. But… it’s hard sometimes. Hopefully, this makes a bit of sense.
I know lately I have been talking a lot about this sort of thing, but I do use this weblog as a type of therapy. I think it’s a good thing for me to do. I had started this as a post about my childhood and not going to or having parties and how I’m okay with that, but it kinda morphed into something else. Oops! Reflecting on bits and pieces of my childhood and adult life is really helping me understand who I am and why I am. I think that’s a really good result!
NOW! I need to go out and do something for myself which consist of me getting off my rump, going to the gym, and then going shopping for food. Gotta utilise these days off to their full potential!