Perfectionist Rehab

Obnoxiousness can be described as characteristically and extremely unpleasant, particularly to the point of offensiveness.

I was humiliated by how much my life was not affected by the pandemic.

Isolation for me started a year and a half before the pandemic hit. I was socially outcast because of one too many poor decisions made on my part in my early twenties. I numbed my pain and suffering.

I alienated myself.

My very best friend, let’s call her Sally, was finally engaged to the love of her life, who was my other best friend, let’s call him Billy.

I couldn’t be happy for them.

Please know that this had nothing to do with jealousy – I was genuinely concerned that Sally was going to get hurt however, she didn’t know that.

Several years ago, Billy was at my apartment and we had a conversation – one that I have neither forgotten nor forgiven. Please understand that at the time, I understood that Billy was a homosexual. He had only dated males; I did not know any information to the contrary and I did not care to pry into his personal life.

I truly did not think it was any of my business.

In this conversation, Billy confided in me that he had never had sex with a female before, and he wanted to, as a science experiment (his words), have sex with my friend Sally. This was because he was aware that she was interested in him, so he felt that this experience would be achievable.

I immediately told him that I did not condone him using my friend as a ‘science experiment’. I asked that he go out to a bar to find a woman to have a one-night stand with, but to please not treat my friend that way. Because the truth was that I knew that Sally was an all eggs in one basket kind of person; she fell in love hard. If they had comingled in that capacity, I believed entirely that she would fall in love with him, and I wanted more for her than someone that wanted to treat her as disposable.

Short story long, they slept together. They fell in love. They dated for a few years before Billy asked Sally to marry him. She said yes. And I never forgot that fateful conversation. It was always at the forefront of my mind – but I don’t think I ever told Sally. I don’t think it would have been the right thing to do because that kind of information would only hurt her – I doubt she would have left him even if she knew. And I doubt he would fess up to having said it.

I was to be the matron of honor in her wedding however, four months before her wedding we were chatting as we usually do. She told me that she saw someone smoking inside of a public location that has ‘Commons’ in the name – a public location with several ‘no smoking’ signs plastered on the fence. I responded that it was ‘uncommon for the commons’ which resulted in an avalanche of accusations.

I have always been high-and-mighty and judgmental.

“This is my hometown, I’m sick of you looking down upon where I live. This is where I’m from and where my family lives. Why do you think you’re so great anyway?”

Well – that just proved my fear, didn’t it?

I should always be alone. Even when I make a stupid joke, I’m offensive. Obnoxious.

I said something mean in response – specific language I don’t recall.

She told me then that I could walk away.

“It makes no difference to me if you stay in my life.”

If I’m being honest, I believe that Billy loves Sally, but that he isn’t in love with Sally. This is because I can’t let that damn conversation go. I think he loves being adored the way that Sally adores him, and it sickens me.

We broke off our relationship then and there. I didn’t go to their wedding. I haven’t spoken to them in years.

The pandemic brought me relief.

I no longer had to go into the office.

No question would ever come about why I was spending entire days alone.

No one would question how I could go weeks and months without talking to anybody but my husband.

Those questions never came because everybody was isolated.

The world got to experience what I had for most of my life.

Honestly, I took some sick pleasure in the fact that other people finally understood what I was going through. Misery loves company, as it were.

“You went all ‘Hogwarts’ about it before you found out how into things she was,” my husband said.

After years of isolation, and months of postpartum, I decided to download a social media application designed to introduce mothers-near-you. I connected with another mom on this application, and we started talking. She mentioned something about astrology, and I got very excited. My husband immediately informed me that I came off too strongly.

I felt the familiar feeling – breath stuck in my throat, heat flashing across my cheeks, ears, and chest. Shame.

I deleted my conversation with her, deactivated my account, and uninstalled the application from my phone.

The problem is just this: I only come off too strong. Just me existing is too much. Just me interacting is “too much”. Me speaking is too much. Whenever I think I was just connecting with someone, I find out I wasn’t.

I was pushing myself onto them.

This is why I’ve been a recluse for so long.

I still wonder if I’m supposed to be around other people because I can’t be palatable. I’ve tried to mold myself into an inoffensive expression however, the effort has been futile.

Self-aware does not necessarily mean self-confidence.

It has been substantiated through anecdotal evidence that obnoxiousness is nothing more nor less than the condition of being ‘too much’ – enthusiastic expression or laughter, energetic movement, and lively conversation can be deemed obnoxious if the receiving party expects, and possibly even values, less enthusiasm in their interactions.

If this isn’t blatantly obvious already, this is the narrative that has consumed me for most of my life. I’m trying to put myself out there again – trying to take up space, make connections, and build community.

The first step was rehabilitating myself from these thoughts. The redundant script reminds me that I am unworthy of relationships because I am the ‘other’. I am somehow inherently defective and therefore am destined to perpetual loneliness.

I realized that my own insecurity blinded me to instances where other people were trying to reach out.

How many invitations did I decline because I thought that the person was ‘just being nice?’

How many connections faded away because I convinced myself I was unlovable?

How many friendships dissolved because I didn’t want to bother anyone?

They say that true change is only possible when you want to change. I don’t think that’s correct at all.

You have to be tired of your own bullshit.

“If you want something you’ve never had, you have to do something you’ve never done.”