Things that are Difficult for Me

1) Swimming
According to the story I was told, I used to enjoy swimming when I was young until one day at a pool several older kids decided they were going to "help me" learn to swim by holding me under water. I don't have any personal recollection of this. What I do know is that I don't know how to swim and couldn't do so to save my life. The deep end scares me.

1a) Showering
Yes, I do shower daily. But I can't stand directly under the water—my face must stay out until I'm actually ready to wash it. Even then I only move my head in far enough so my face is only just grazed by the falling water. Sometimes I'll hold my hands up in front of me in an effort to deflect the water onto my face. Getting water in my eyes and ears scares me. Instead of being something enjoyable, showering is more like being defiled. I feel like what I imagine a cat feels when someone decides to give a cat a bath.

2) Wearing Bright Clothing, Patterns, or Logos
My working theory is that, as a child, to defend myself from being made fun of for how I'm dressed, I learned to dress as plainly and as unassumingly as possible to try and not stand out. Or, as an ex once put it, I dress boring. On top of this, if I try to not put in an effort, if I try not to care about what I wear then when people do make fun of me it won't hurt as much because, hey, I don't give a shit anyway.

Clothing is my armor and I always have to be on guard. I never know when I might get attacked, physically or visually.

2a) Clothes Shopping
As much as I try not to care, I have to in order to maintain some kind of wardrobe, even a boring one. I try to avoid buy new clothes as much as I can. I have no "nice" or "dress" clothes and I wear clothes over and over until they are ragged. Only after my current clothing options become unwearable will I go purchase new ones.

2b) Halloween
Me? Wear a costume? Fuck no. And it makes no difference if everyone else is in costume. The same forces behind every day dress apply here. Wearing a halloween costume is difficult because to do so means I have to make a choice about what I'm going to be and the result is visual and plain for anyone to see. And letting people see my choices means leaving myself open for judgment and attack. Even something as minor as what halloween costume I decide to wear is to allow a small piece of myself out in the open, free for all to tread upon.

Of course, going to a halloween party as the only one not in costume is just as awful. It's lose a lose situation.

3) Grocery Shopping
I'm not sure where this particular fear came from, but I find myself afraid of what people think of what I'm putting into the cart. Granted, I don't have the best diet, but it's not like I eat nothing but junk either. Going to the store during the weekend has the added bonus of being crowded, which tends to make me panicky. My goal at the grocery store is always the same: to get in and out as fast as I can. I know what I'm getting before I get there and where to find it. There's no such thing as browsing. On occasion I'll get stuck in thought about something, but that only increases the anxiety.

It is happening more and more frequently that I'll make a snap decision and get something I hadn't originally planned on. But be fooled into thinking I'm more comfortable in the situatiion. My choices, whether sudden or premeditated, have distinct boundaries. It's like I have a master shopping list in my head of things that are "safe" to buy. It's only under extreme circumstances that I'll deviate from it.

Checking out is difficult too. I push the cart back and forth in front of the different lanes at least twice before deciding where I should go. I'm less concerned about how long the line is than I am about who is at the register. I always avoid attractive women. Males are preferred.

Back home, I always carry all the bags, all at once. The strain on my arms and hands and the thought that I must look ridiculous is still somehow better than making a second trip out to the car.

4) Exercising
Growing up, it seemed that the only thing that mattered to other kids was sports. Sports, sports, sports. Gym class, recess, before and after school, teams and leagues. You were nothing without sports and I was certainly nothing to the other kids, having always been overweight and without any inclination towards athletics. I want to get in shape, but going to a gym or student rec center only results in panic attacks. I could do something in my apartment, as long as I close all the blinds and everything (yes, even though I live on the second floor), but with a downstairs neighbor I'm always afraid of what kind of racket I'd make with any kind of exercise. There's always running, walking, or bicycling but then I feel like I'm a spectacle. ("Look at fatty run!")

5) The Telephone
Sure, we might have exchanged phone numbers but for some reason I can't connect this with the idea that you might actually want me to call sometime. I know that getting a phone number from someone should be conclusive evidence but that just can't compare to the sheer terror of actually picking up the phone. A similar terror arises in less personal situations, like calling a doctor's office, a business, and pretty much everything else. Some phone calls require hours of getting psyched up. And for many calls I need to have some kind of mental script prepared in advance—what I'm going to say and how I'm going to say it. Every day is a performance.

6) Staying in Touch
Please, don't take it personally. It's not that I'm trying to snub you or anything. Actually, I wish I'd gotten to know you better. you seemed like a cool person, we got along just fine, and maybe we even hung out a few times. But something happened. Life butted in and either I moved far away or you moved far away and now the only way we can connect is through email or the telephone. I have a list, inscribed in my brain, of people I wish I'd gotten to know better. It's a list of pure regret.

As ridiculous as it is, I have trouble believing that I exist for people when I'm not around. The idea that someone might think of me or talk about me without me being physically present feels like pure fantasy. Once, years ago, an I-sorta-kinda-know-you-from-the-few-times-we've-spent-together-while-hanging-out-within-a-larger-group-of-people friend told me, "I miss you." I was flabbergasted. I just sat there dumb with no clue how to respond. It wasn't even two hours later that the memory fogged over and I wasn't sure if I'd just dreamed it.

So I'm sorry for not calling or emailing. It's just that I figure I don't exist for you anymore.

7) Remembering
It's frightening and sad how bad I am at forming long term memories. Looking back on my life is much like the visual effects of atmospheric perspective: The farther away I get, the memory loses more and more contrast and focus until it's indistinct from the empty, open sky. I have a few moments here and there but that's all they are—moments without context or chronology. Just snapshots of half-faded dreams.

I can't say I think this is a bad thing.

8) Forgetting
Every time I've been hurt, every time I've made a mistake, and every time something bad happens, even if it's something I merely perceive as bad, the memory lodges itself in my skull. Sure, given long enough they eventually join the fog with all my other memories, but they stick around long after their welcome is over. There are events from over nine years ago, incredibly minor ones, that still manage to worm their way back into my conscious thoughts today.