I think for my entire life I have felt the need to work to be recognized or of value to any person in my life.
Whenever I look at my philosophy for how to look at other people, I never allow that philosophy to apply to myself. The lock screen of my phone is the philosophy of my life I try to abide by. It goes as follows:
- When people ask who you are by what you say, make sure it’s as a Servant of the Most High.
- I am first and foremost a citizen of Heaven going through this world to bring others with me to the Kingdom of Heaven.
- When you see and love others, do it like you will die after you see them.
- Don’t be scared to show love. It is the only thing that can ever turn an enemy into a friend.
- Everyone needs a free meal once in a while.
- Everyone has equal dignity and should be treated as the lowest needing to be raised up.
Its a very Gospel Oriented life that I try to live. Its a very love others more than I love myself life that I try to live. And yet, I won’t let this love for others apply to myself from myself or from others. To me, I don’t feel that I can or should be loved freely, but only if I am giving something in exchange for that love. During this time I’m in, I feel like it would be more accurate to change rule 2 to “When you see others, know that no matter what you do, you don’t deserve to be loved by them.”
So yeah, this post is about my unhealthy interpretation of rule 2 on myself.
I think part of that reasoning is from being told my entire life that God’s unconditional love can only be understood by observing all of humanity’s conditional love. Being told that people will only love my if I fulfill certain conditions and preparing to be dropped at any point if those criteria are not being fulfilled.
I can only be loved by my parents if I am an obedient child. This included getting good grades, doing what I’m told in a timely manner, and being seen as a model child that all other adults brag about.
I can only be loved by others and make friends if I have something to bring to the table. Whether its making food for people to have, the willingness to help with assignments, providing plans and room for gatherings, or an incredible drive in all things competition.
When I was on the cross country team, we would often play ultimate frisbee after practices some days. A saying began to roll around my teammates after observing my commitment to catching the frisbee. They would throw the disc to someone else, it would go out of their reach and there would be a turnover, and one of my buddies would yell, “You know who would have caught that? Nelson. Nelson would have caught that.”
Another time during a 4×400 race in my spring track season, I was the anchor and had been put in a terrible situation where my third leg was lazy and jogged his lap. We were in second and first place was 50 meters ahead when I grabbed the baton. So I chased him. At 300 meters left he was 40 meters ahead. At 200 meters left it was 25 meters ahead. At 100 meters left it was 5 meters ahead. At 75 meters he was behind me and I flew down to the finish line.
Regardless of the gap in ability, I never wanted anyone to feel like they would win against me without a challenge. This resulted in a lot of people who tried to play casually to be incredibly pissed off at me. I was viewed as a try hard by them and I viewed them as lazy.
This drive would also tear my body and mind apart.
During races where I lost, I told the coach to push me harder than the rest of the team so I could get better. In games of Spikeball where I got swept, after my friends left I would go into the backyard and serve for another 1-2 hours to get better. If I saw my grades slipping, I would go to the library and study without sleep so that I got the work done and understood what I needed to.
But none of this could be sustained for very long.
When this started in middle school, it was to please my father who was in an incredibly manic episode of his bipolar disorder. If there was any time where he was being unproductive and not giving something his all, that was time wasted. Because he was a mentally sick man who was trying to raise his son to be a man that would succeed by the world’s standards, he pushed that philosophy onto me. My parents were split on a philosophy of how to raise me. My mother believed I needed to take care of myself and do what was right for me while my father believed that in everything I did, I could always push myself a little harder and exceed my limits.
In my early development of my philosophy, this resulted in me pushing myself to my limits in an attempt to protect myself from disappointment. At the time, I was on the wrestling team. In the 24 hours before a match, I would eat a light dinner, no breakfast, some cucumbers, and little water so I could meet weight. I would do Boy Scouts to please my father who wanted me to learn the values of being a man and secure the slot on my resume that said “Eagle Scout.” I would make A’s to show that I had everything all together. But in eighth grade, I recognized that no matter how hard I worked, there were factors that were out of my control. I saw the cruelty that a manic father could extend to his family and children. I tried to serve as the peacekeeper who offered his body, time, and energy to the ravenous beast that was my father’s mania.
From here, I began to break. I would have panic attacks in the morning and spend an hour stuck on the ground crying. Then I would go into school with the excuse I had overslept. I would call authority figures out on flaws in school because I knew to do so at home would fall on deaf, angry ears.
It was at this point in my life that I made a promise to myself: if I were to ever be diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I would never marry or have children. I wanted to stop that generational curse because no one I would care about and love should have to deal with my flaws. No one will have to deal with the monsters I saw on each edge of that spectrum.
So now that I sit here with depression, I’m scared. I look back at my life where I have drive and put impossible expectations on myself to succeed and try to load up my plate as full as it can go and wonder if that is a glimpse of mania. And all this fear doesn’t stem from me having bipolar. This fear stems from me being alone if I do.
Last night I had a nightmare. I was walking down a busy street of sorts in the afternoon, and during this walk I would see people I knew along the way and yell out to to them to get their attention. In response, they turned from what they were doing, lost their smile, and screamed at me that they didn’t want me and that I needed to leave. I saw my roommates in a bar and they yelled at me before I could walk in the door. I saw my friend Lauren with some of my other friends in a restaurant and she pretended she didn’t know me until she screamed at me. I saw my extended family and they didn’t even look at me.
I woke up and the first thing I thought of was that I wanted to make a coffee cake to give out to the people in my dream. After I sat for a bit, I wondered if I wanted to make a coffee cake or I had to make it. Then after a bit longer, I realized it was both. I wanted to do this because I love them, but I also felt like I needed to because it was my responsibility to constantly remind them that I loved them. Its not even that I love them, just the fact that they are loved and cared about, regardless of who it is. Thats why whenever I make food, I will generally drop it off or leave it out on the counter. I’m scared to give and receive love directly because of all the ways in which it could go wrong. All this because it has gone wrong in my past.
This reminds me of a quote from Will Smith’s memoir, Will, where he talks about his romantic relationships. I think from the way that I have relationships with people, it applies to all of the relationships in my life. It goes, “To me, love was a performance, so if you weren’t clapping, I was failing. To succeed in love, the ones you care for must constantly applaud. Spoiler alert: This is not a way to have healthy relationships.” And right you are, Will. I feel like if I am not putting everything into a relationship, someone will feel like I don’t care about them.
This kind of mentality becomes problematic when I have a fear of rejection that comes when I reach out to others. As soon as I send a text or a call, a timer starts in my head for how long I’ve done it. The longer that timer goes on, the more I am failing in that relationship.
So where do I go from here? How do I continue to love people but also allow myself to be loved in the process? I think the first step is to understand the relationship between who I do and who I am. I need to accept that people’s love for me is independent of what I do for them. But then, that just leaves who I am… and that scares me.
I have not adapted to having a facade or any sort of outer layer to survive in the real world. People will often say “fake it till you make it,” but I don’t feel like I made it if I’ve faked it. So I’m left with this idea in my head that it is important to be myself, but am left with a belief that just existing as who I am is not valuable if I’m not displaying agency. In a way, I feel like I am apologetically myself.
So the question I’m left with is this: do I abandon who I am as someone who gives love freely in order for it to be more of a delicacy, or do I remain who I am and try to just do what I’m doing harder?
I worry about my future girlfriend. Will she feel like she isn’t special to me because I treat everyone with love and kindness? Do I need to be more sparing with it so that those who are special to me know that they are special to me?
I don’t know, and thinking on it brings me down.
– Nic
My Journey to Satisfaction 