Saturday, March 12, 2011
You know you have a problem when you catch yourself doing things that you know you shouldn't. And the operative word there is "catch". Because I get so focussed and caught up in doing whatever that it takes me a while to notice I'm doing it. This is sometimes what happens when I binge eat. By the time I notice what I'm doing, I've already demolished a huge amount of food.
However, the problem at hand isn't binge eating (as you might have guessed from the title of this post). This blog has somehow turned into the place where I dump all my problems, food and otherwise and so I shall continue to utilise it as such. I hope that it entertains some of you, even if you think I'm a freak, all food matters will recommence by the next post, if not later in this one.
Onwards! The issue here is one that I've suspected for a long time. Some friends have diagnosed me with an attachment disorder based on the strange way in which I distribute my loyalty. I can hang out with someone for years and still at the core of me despise them but I will also meet someone for the first time and lavish all my attention and care and loyalty on them. Now even I know that's messed up but it's not totally unheard of, and to be honest, if it stopped there, I would say that it meant I was a gullible and simple person.
The attachment disorder diagnosis stems from the type of person that I tend to devote myself blindly to. [I should note here that there is absolutely nothing dodgy about this, there is no sexual undertone to what I am about to say.] They are always older men, older as in, my dad's age group. They have no children of their own. They are my superior (as in, my boss). They are notoriously tough. They notice my appearance and compliment me on my appearance.
The pattern is that without fail, the only exception to that would be darling TS who is all those things except he isn't tough, well, not to me anyway.
My personal theory is that they are filling a void that my dad can't fill. He will never approve of my career choice, he will never approve of my current life choices of not wanting to get married ASAP and have kids ASAP, he will never tell me I'm pretty. So I somehow find people who are around his age who encourage me to do what I want to and tell me I'm pretty.
I'm actually incredibly lucky to have these people (by the by, I am talking about TS, SPM and Prof CNM) because I'm sure that most people in my position don't ever come across such people and suffer all the more for it.
It's just little things, like, noticing what shoes I'm wearing and how they match my outfit, or noticing how well I applied my nail polish, insignificant details to some, but they mean the world to me because these people are picking up on things that I desperately do in an effort to make myself valuable.
Despite all my ranting, deep down, I feel so worthless that wearing a nice outfit and painting my nails are all I can do to try to make myself presentable to the world. People think I'm well composed and a stickler about my appearance but that's not true. It's because I'm so ugly that I claw away at the only things I can do to make myself prettier. Well, the only thing short of plastic surgery.
So when someone notices, it makes me feel a little less invisible. It's almost a small personal triumph, like, yes! it wasn't all in vain. And those 3 people are experts at noticing. They notice whatever it is that I've put the most effort into without fail every single time I see them. And when they look me up and down and give me a cheeky little grin like, going to see someone special? in that moment, for that one fleeting second I feel pretty.
I know I'm just another student to them. On some level I know that I'm another name in their head, swilling around millions of other names and the only time they drag my name out of the archives of their memory is when I'm standing right in front of them. But deep down, they hold the key to my self esteem and actually increase my self esteem (even if only for a moment) that I would throw myself in front of a bullet for them without hesitation.
It's not like they're particularly nice to me at all, in fact, they only treat me like they would treat any stranger, but I'm so used to being beaten down that when I'm treated like a human, I feel like they are being oh so very nice to me. And then I hope (even if I know that it is in vain) that to them, I am more than just another person, and I pretend that to them, I am someone special.
And I have to pretend that, because I can't go through life holding onto the fact that I am nothing special and that no one would notice if I fell off the earth tomorrow. I have to pretend that TS, SPM and Prof CNM would at least pause for a moment, and see that I am gone.
But this is starting to get out of hand. Today I caught myself frantically going through a mall, searching for a new top. I caught myself rejecting top after top because "he must think I am an angel!"
And I don't mean angelic being, I meant it in the sense "she's my little angel". And when I realised what I was doing I wanted to crawl under the clothing racks and cry because I've never been anyone's little angel and I will never be anyone's little angel but for some reason, for a crazy hour or so, I had gotten it into my head that Prof might consider me as such.