Frustration

I infuriate myself so much, I can't imagine what it's like for other people to have to put up with me.

I've been in a funny mood on and off for a while now. Whilst the overall tenor of it is down to my depression (if I'm annoyed about one thing, it always comes around to being annoyed at everything - that's how this stuff works, in my head at least), friendships and relationships generally have been bothering me for a while - past friendships that have fallen apart for one reason and another, current friendships and what they are or aren't, all that lovely messy stuff.

I keep saying I don't really have any friends. And that's not really true. There are different people that I talk to, about different things, and with whom I have different levels of closeness. But for the most part they're overseas/people I talk to online. And whilst that has a lot of advantages and I'm truly grateful and glad to have these people in my life (I could write a whole other blog on internet friendships) it's also not quite the same as having friends close by. People I can hang out with whenever. Lift the phone to, go to the pub or lunch or whatever with. People I can actually see in the flesh and without the pre-requisite of an internet connection. Not having people around in 'real life' makes it feel like I don't have any friends, at least.

There are one or two people that I hang out with, but trying to actually get to do something with them takes more organisational skills than your average military wartime manoeuvre. Which causes me no end of anxiety and beating myself up. I don't mean to blame them - I often do blame them, but I know I shouldn't. They're busy people, they have lots of other friends to whom they're much much closer, I can't expect them to always be free when I want to do something. They can't be at my beck and call whenever I need them to be.

But of course, I start getting paranoid that they hate me because I'm such a pain in the arse, because I'm always pestering them to do something, that I must look incredibly sad and pathetic that I don't have anyone else to hang out with, etc, etc, etc. And as much as, on my better days, I tell myself that's not true, there's always a niggling (and ultimately, I think, realistic) voice in my head that's telling me that people aren't perfect and that they do sometimes get annoyed with people they aren't all that close to for behaving like that, and that it is an unattractive trait in me.

And then if I do get to hang out with them, and I'm in a bit of a mood or things are playing on my mind (as is my wont), it's torturous to try to cope with that. I want desperately to be able to tell them - tell someone, anyone - what's going on with me, because I'm so sick of keeping up appearances all the time. I expend so much energy just trying to get through the day, that when I'm looking forward to a night out or something, it ends up almost giving me an ulcer because I feel so caught between wanting to not wear one of the many masks I feel like I have to put on for people and just be myself and not feel like I'm lying and hiding all the time; and wanting to just forget about all the bullshit and enjoy myself and be the sort of fun person that these people will want to hang out with again.

And all of this makes me act like a dick sometimes. A lot of times, to be fair. That feeling of wanting to tell people but being terrified of their response, that I wrote about before - it's constantly bubbling away under the surface. And I never really know which is the right way to deal with it. Do I just ignore it? That feels like sweeping things under the carpet, and that usually comes back to bite me in the ass so that feels like the wrong thing to do. But I can't just start going on and on about it to all and sundry - it's oftentimes inappropriate, it's not the sort of thing you can just blurt out to people you maybe aren't that close to or don't know that well as it's unfair to them and puts them under a certain amount of burden and pressure.

So I end up being - well, not passive aggressive exactly, but sort of slightly hinting at things. Hinting that all is not well, beyond the usual venting and ranting and complaining that we all do, some of us (i.e., me) more than others. It's not that I mean to hint at things - it's usually just that I don't want to make up a lie to cover what I really mean or want to say. So I say something non-committal about being in a bad mood, or just feeling a bit off or whatever. Which frustrates me even further, because it's like coming to the brink of telling people and pulling yourself back. All the fucking time. And then you just wish you hadn't said anything to start with, because it was selfish and unfair to the other person, and what are they meant to do about it? If they notice that something is up and they're kind (or brave, depending on your viewpoint) enough to ask, you know they aren't expecting the real answer and are probably just being a bit polite. If you're not that close to them it's too much to start spewing all your personal crap all over them. But you feel like you're being deliberately mysterious, melodramatic and attention-seeking - and you are, even though you don't mean to be or want to be. It's like you're not in control, except that you know you are and that you've chosen to act like this, somehow.

So, in conclusion - being like this is a huge pain in the arse. I don't really have anything more insightful to add than that, this literally is just a random blathering on about some of the things in my head at the minute. As much as I said I didn't want this to turn into a depression blog, it seems that that's what I'm doing with it. For the time being, anyway. The mere existence of this blog is making me want to write about things like this more. I can't decide just yet if that's a good thing or a bad thing - if it's making me more introspective and causing me to dwell on things and thus making matters worse, or if it's a good outlet and way for me to articulate things. I suppose only time will tell.