Aye, another Sunday come and gone.
May. 1st, 2005 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silveradept'Twas good. I went to a friend's graduation celebration, and also watched the newest Family Guy. Good to have an intelligent domestic cartoon on the airwaves again (although there are probably some who will claim Simpsons, but I haven't watched it in many a season). The opener was a good riff on how long it's been since there was a Family Guy episode on. Although, I watched American Dad afterward, and it's a problem to have to admit that both of those shows came from the same mind. Ah, well, you can't win them all.
Surprisingly enough, I think I've managed to develop (or am starting to develop) a social life. I was pondering this as I drove back from the graduation party. She's not someone that I know more than somewhat tangentially (she's a Brother in the Fraternity and in the MMB, but that's about as far as the association goes), yet I still went. I have a suspicion that a me in a previous year wouldn't even entertain the possibility, much less actually go out and do it. If this is a sign of that dreaded maturity, I'm locking myself in my room for a couple years and devoting myself to my studies. I'm too young for that.
This riffs with another thought (it actually precedes the above one temporally) that's a link and extension to some of what I wrote yesterday in that grab-bag of philosophy and oration. Interesting how at certain times, I start stringing journal entries together as I explore different aspects of my brain. Must be annoying to someone who just wanders by and has a look. By now, you probably have to start at a chapter-point just to get caught up a little bit on what's going on, and you have to start at the beginning to really understand. My life really is a novel. I just hope the ink, paper, and binding are good. This might be one of the longer strings of thought.
It's not the original tangent, though. This farther exploration comes out of the recognition that I have a recurrent anxiety in several situations. That anxiety is diminished or magnified depending on how comfortable I am around the people that trigger it (which may very well be everyone who isn't in my family - amazing how well that realization fits in now that I think about it) I've previously categorized it as a fear of screwing something up socially in a new situation. That's probably because that's where I feel the anxiety most acutely. It subsides over time, but it reappears when there is disharmony within a group that I'm with - even if I haven't been contributing fuel to the fire, suddenly I get very cautious of what I'm saying. There are exceptions, usually granted in the face of a persistent inability to see a valid point of view or a poor argument being defended vigorously. Blessed are the peacemakers, but what about those of us who cower in fear when cross words are said, even if they don't involve us?
Anyway, the thing that has brought about this wonderful revelation is, well, the putt-putting. It seems to have clicked the last puzzle piece into place. I went reviewing my own writings and their comments because I wasn't sure whether I really had repeated myself the last entry there. If I'm repeating myself now, it just means that I'm ready to begin another cycle of learning. I finally picked up the thread that I have been hinting at when I've been talking about all these stressful situations. Might even manage to be grafted into some relationship confidence if I remember it at the right time. So now that I've built up the possible positive effects, and someone from the audience just yelled "Get on with it, twit!", let's explore the revelation.
They're open. I'm not. That's the simple form, anyway. the expanded form is something like this - My anxieties about social norms and practices stem from a fear that somewhere along the line, I will be confronted with someone who thinks I am unacceptable because of my eccentricities. Put simply, it really is that old Catholic guilt. It has become important to me, somewhere in my development, that I present the proper front to all the people I meet, so that they do not find me disagreeable. Impostor Syndrome is a symptom of this deeper-rooted desire. So is my social anxiety. I suspect my parents have had a considerable amount to do with the construction of this problem, as have my instructors throughout my primary and secondary schooling.
The problem could have been averted at several places along the way, but I think the most notable failure was in middle school. I've described to several people (and probably his journal as well) an ill-fated morning where I had left my backpack open at home, with a copy of Buckland's Complete Witchcraft or something like it inside. This was early in my machinations to learn more about non-monotheistic magic-supporting religions. It did not go over well with my father. I was spared the full lecture by the arrival of the school bus, but since then, I was definitely not going to expose myself like that again to my parents. Even at college, when I was taking a purely academic class on the term witchcraft and how it has been used throughout history, it was singled out as a topic of discussion between dad and I, and I suspect that even with my assurances that it was a scholarly matter, he didn't like the choice. Probably still doesn't. Mom I can't feel out one way or another, although I think she would disapprove as well, perhaps not as strongly as Da.
The point being that if there had been an open and accepting and questioning reaction, rather than a dogmatic one, the construction of the mask might not have been as important to me. But it was just one more mask - good Catholic, excellent student (although that's not really a mask anymore), socially well-adjusted, et cetera. I settle into groups well or poorly depending on how well I can suit my mask to the group around me. When there are fractures in the group, the mask is unsettled because it doesn't know how to react. Anxiety abounds. When harmony is restored, so is the balance. The mask need not fear discovery.
This rather roundabout and verbose reasoning (and if you've been reading, you understand that this is definitely a habit of mine, to talk in text) provides a most interesting critical juncture - what happens when you meet a group that doesn't wear a mask? Or rather, wears a masque? Instead of trying to look serious and respectable, they put feathers and colours and patterns on theirs and are perfectly okay with taking them off at any time. They're so comfortable with their real faces that they don't really need the masks, but they're pretty and fun to decorate, and occasionally they do come in handy now and then, so they have a couple - but again, they use them only as they have to. There was an initial nervousness, perhaps, in letting their real faces out into the light, a worry that people would cry or try to force the mask back on, but every time they take it off or change the decorations, it becomes easier.
The fur group throws me for a loop because nobody's wearing a mask but me. I think they're quite aware of how ridiculous I look with it on, and would rather see me leave it by the wayside and build another one out of construction paper, glitter and glue. But they're patient with me. They understand, perhaps better than I do, what difficulties entail removing it. And while I may not have anything that will splash like coming out of the closet or embracing one's inner fur, there's still the fear. It's unfortunate, but on some very deep level, I lost trust in my parents that they would love me unconditionally. And I don't feel like I have the cohesive social circle to buoy me if my parents should shut me out. (There's college costs, too.) So I'm hesitant to drop the illusion.
Yeah, it's a long ramble to find an ultimately simple realization. There's more, actually, beyond this, in how I can extrapolate the idea out to an entire society's apparent contradictions, but if I keep typing like this, I'm not going to have enough sleep when it comes around to work in the morning. There will be more. Depending on how busy work is may move the timetable up or back as to when it appears.
Surprisingly enough, I think I've managed to develop (or am starting to develop) a social life. I was pondering this as I drove back from the graduation party. She's not someone that I know more than somewhat tangentially (she's a Brother in the Fraternity and in the MMB, but that's about as far as the association goes), yet I still went. I have a suspicion that a me in a previous year wouldn't even entertain the possibility, much less actually go out and do it. If this is a sign of that dreaded maturity, I'm locking myself in my room for a couple years and devoting myself to my studies. I'm too young for that.
This riffs with another thought (it actually precedes the above one temporally) that's a link and extension to some of what I wrote yesterday in that grab-bag of philosophy and oration. Interesting how at certain times, I start stringing journal entries together as I explore different aspects of my brain. Must be annoying to someone who just wanders by and has a look. By now, you probably have to start at a chapter-point just to get caught up a little bit on what's going on, and you have to start at the beginning to really understand. My life really is a novel. I just hope the ink, paper, and binding are good. This might be one of the longer strings of thought.
It's not the original tangent, though. This farther exploration comes out of the recognition that I have a recurrent anxiety in several situations. That anxiety is diminished or magnified depending on how comfortable I am around the people that trigger it (which may very well be everyone who isn't in my family - amazing how well that realization fits in now that I think about it) I've previously categorized it as a fear of screwing something up socially in a new situation. That's probably because that's where I feel the anxiety most acutely. It subsides over time, but it reappears when there is disharmony within a group that I'm with - even if I haven't been contributing fuel to the fire, suddenly I get very cautious of what I'm saying. There are exceptions, usually granted in the face of a persistent inability to see a valid point of view or a poor argument being defended vigorously. Blessed are the peacemakers, but what about those of us who cower in fear when cross words are said, even if they don't involve us?
Anyway, the thing that has brought about this wonderful revelation is, well, the putt-putting. It seems to have clicked the last puzzle piece into place. I went reviewing my own writings and their comments because I wasn't sure whether I really had repeated myself the last entry there. If I'm repeating myself now, it just means that I'm ready to begin another cycle of learning. I finally picked up the thread that I have been hinting at when I've been talking about all these stressful situations. Might even manage to be grafted into some relationship confidence if I remember it at the right time. So now that I've built up the possible positive effects, and someone from the audience just yelled "Get on with it, twit!", let's explore the revelation.
They're open. I'm not. That's the simple form, anyway. the expanded form is something like this - My anxieties about social norms and practices stem from a fear that somewhere along the line, I will be confronted with someone who thinks I am unacceptable because of my eccentricities. Put simply, it really is that old Catholic guilt. It has become important to me, somewhere in my development, that I present the proper front to all the people I meet, so that they do not find me disagreeable. Impostor Syndrome is a symptom of this deeper-rooted desire. So is my social anxiety. I suspect my parents have had a considerable amount to do with the construction of this problem, as have my instructors throughout my primary and secondary schooling.
The problem could have been averted at several places along the way, but I think the most notable failure was in middle school. I've described to several people (and probably his journal as well) an ill-fated morning where I had left my backpack open at home, with a copy of Buckland's Complete Witchcraft or something like it inside. This was early in my machinations to learn more about non-monotheistic magic-supporting religions. It did not go over well with my father. I was spared the full lecture by the arrival of the school bus, but since then, I was definitely not going to expose myself like that again to my parents. Even at college, when I was taking a purely academic class on the term witchcraft and how it has been used throughout history, it was singled out as a topic of discussion between dad and I, and I suspect that even with my assurances that it was a scholarly matter, he didn't like the choice. Probably still doesn't. Mom I can't feel out one way or another, although I think she would disapprove as well, perhaps not as strongly as Da.
The point being that if there had been an open and accepting and questioning reaction, rather than a dogmatic one, the construction of the mask might not have been as important to me. But it was just one more mask - good Catholic, excellent student (although that's not really a mask anymore), socially well-adjusted, et cetera. I settle into groups well or poorly depending on how well I can suit my mask to the group around me. When there are fractures in the group, the mask is unsettled because it doesn't know how to react. Anxiety abounds. When harmony is restored, so is the balance. The mask need not fear discovery.
This rather roundabout and verbose reasoning (and if you've been reading, you understand that this is definitely a habit of mine, to talk in text) provides a most interesting critical juncture - what happens when you meet a group that doesn't wear a mask? Or rather, wears a masque? Instead of trying to look serious and respectable, they put feathers and colours and patterns on theirs and are perfectly okay with taking them off at any time. They're so comfortable with their real faces that they don't really need the masks, but they're pretty and fun to decorate, and occasionally they do come in handy now and then, so they have a couple - but again, they use them only as they have to. There was an initial nervousness, perhaps, in letting their real faces out into the light, a worry that people would cry or try to force the mask back on, but every time they take it off or change the decorations, it becomes easier.
The fur group throws me for a loop because nobody's wearing a mask but me. I think they're quite aware of how ridiculous I look with it on, and would rather see me leave it by the wayside and build another one out of construction paper, glitter and glue. But they're patient with me. They understand, perhaps better than I do, what difficulties entail removing it. And while I may not have anything that will splash like coming out of the closet or embracing one's inner fur, there's still the fear. It's unfortunate, but on some very deep level, I lost trust in my parents that they would love me unconditionally. And I don't feel like I have the cohesive social circle to buoy me if my parents should shut me out. (There's college costs, too.) So I'm hesitant to drop the illusion.
Yeah, it's a long ramble to find an ultimately simple realization. There's more, actually, beyond this, in how I can extrapolate the idea out to an entire society's apparent contradictions, but if I keep typing like this, I'm not going to have enough sleep when it comes around to work in the morning. There will be more. Depending on how busy work is may move the timetable up or back as to when it appears.
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no subject
Date: 2005-05-02 10:45 am (UTC)