woot, avoidant!

So, I was browsing Wiki the other day, when suddenly this popped out.
Well, perhaps it was not such of a sudden, more like several bounces away from the "Schizoid" article, lol. Come now, one must watch and take care of his mental condition, right.

Anyway, when I read the general description and all the symptoms, it was like in those comics, when people exclaim in jagged bubbles: "Shit, man! That's it!" Or something similar, more or less, depending on the situation and the character's vocabular ammount.

This certainly is not something to be proud of, I know, unless one is some sort of a hypochondriac, but it is alway helpful to at least know what the problem is. Moreover this particular one is kind of self-aggravating, a vicious circle getting harder to escape with routine behaviour setting in deeper and deeper.

Tracing back my memories over the years, I can see many events in a new light. How it all started, with me being too often sick as a baby because of poor living conditions. Then being sick as a kid, meeting and losing friends because of constant moving here and there, from hospital to hospital, finally threatened with asthma after a double-sided pneumonia and sent to a sanatorium for pulmonary ill in the woods. Shit.

I mean, the surroundings were great, the place became the closest thing to a home for me, but once again I was uprooted, losing all the bonds formed during my first year in school, and put among strangers in that distant place, where evil communists reined with iron fist. I mean, really! It was 1988 and it felt too often like the nurses and tutors were running a military. An Eastern block military, you know, sucks big time. No wonder that my long tradition in escapism began back then.

And then my mom started work there, then my grandma died, then the economy crumbled and finding a job became even harder, and we stayed and stayed there. Kids came and went, going back to their homes and friends, having a healthy social life, while I felt more and more stranded. Every time I had a good friend, he was taken away from me. Well, I wasn't helping either, being poor thus having not much to offer, and which drove me a couple of times to theft - colourful trinkets like pictures from bubblegums or cards with pop-singers or little toy cars.

People hate you when you steal from them. They also hate you for having some small privileges like being able to spend a day at mommy's, or when she tries to protect you, not knowing that her actions cause more damage than good.

Then once again I moved, to high-school back in my birth-town, which I didn't even know, losing my brittle friendships again, to find new ones in the hostel, but I eventually severed them myself, moving to my apartment and becoming increasingly closed. Now I see some people tried to help me, but I was escaping further and further away in my fantasies and depressions, with every slight or percieved rejection or ridicule. Looking back I wonder how I even finished school, beeing absent so often and not paying much attention in the final years.

And so on. A clear pattern can be seen. One thing leads to another, twisting and forming your character and future at age when you don' even know the meaning of those words. I would have likened it to the old metaphor with the frog and the boiling water, if it wasn't actually a myth. But without information, without adequate support and councelling, how could have I seen what's wrong, despite feeling it every day? How could have I turned the tide?

Even now, with all my relative knowledge and experience, I cannot see a way around this. Things couldn't have happened differently once the course has been set with my birth and no one can choose his parents, no arguments here. But the bitterness and fear are set deep into my heart and the only thing left is to try and soften them up as far as I can.

Well, the last paragraphs came somewhat too depressing, especially compared with the exuberant title but the subject is not much enjoyable and it is getting too late also. I stayed up much longer than expected, largely because of the constant editing of each consecutive word. Yet another worsening symptom. One more day with acute sleep deprivation awaits me. Hooray :(

But the process of remembering, realizing and writing down all this was worth it. Maybe it will be of some help to somebody else too one day.