Nanni

I dreamt last night that I woke up and there were three thoughtful and kind and interesting messages in my tumblr messagebox.

This felt good for about three seconds, before I realized I was going to have to answer them, and they all needed long and nuanced replies, and I hadn't answered the thoughtful and kind and interesting message from last week that needed a long and nuanced reply -

And that was the point at which I woke up in a panic.

...My attempts to analyze this book keep turning into tirades about what a horrible person I am.

This is not productive, dammit.

Oh my gosh, this comic is full of femslash, it is awesome.

And some probably unintentionaly hilarious commentary on how gender roles define what is and isn't flirting.

This is more cheerful than my other, more recent, note, which is basically about how I am panicking and cannot think. Oh my goodness I spent an entire week sick out of my mind I am never going to catch up I will crash and burn and they will revoke my acceptance oh noooooooooo -

I am still sick out of my mind what am I doing.

The odd thing about being around my aunt is that she takes things I'd intended as neutral descriptors of my body as evidence I need reassurance.

Trouble is, my body is one of the few aspects of me I don't actually have major issues around.

It hurts my feelings. My hips are broad. My shoulders are broad. I am not dainty, I'm over five foot ten and I wear a US women's size twelve shoe! Those are all just facts. I don't need to be made to feel better about them by being told my perception of them is wrong.

By itself this would just be a nuisance, but I have longstanding issues about being told my perceptions are wrong and unreliable, and so my aunt is trying to make me feel better but I keep having to bite my lip so I don't burst into tears instead.

Nrrrrgh. I'd really rather talk about Black Jack, but this is bugging me.

Yes, a link on metafandom, which I should not have clicked! And, uh, can't link to because I closed it and reading it in the first place was a bad idea, if I go back, I will read it again, even though I don't know why I read that poll about expectations of response to comments once I had it open: I should have clicked away so fast.

But I did, and therefore here we go:

Dear everyone who expects or wants a response from me when you comment,

I sympathize, I really do. I know it's rude to ignore people. I don't fail to respond because I don't like you, or because I think I'm better than you, or because I just don't care.

I might, under some circumstances, not be responding because I didn't see your comment, but probably what happened?

Is that I wrote that post because I was having a good day, and I could talk and interact and felt confident and not like the worst person in the world. And then I had to go to bed or I walked away from the computer and you commented and I came back and tried to write back to you. Maybe I even got a paragraph down before I erased it and tried again. Maybe I tried again after that. Maybe I couldn't get anything written in the first place and just stared at the box and felt terrible. There might have been crying because I was just so tired all of a sudden, and I couldn't do it. I was too scared, even though maybe I know you and like you. Possibly everything I could put down just sounded egotistical and over sharing. Maybe I told myself not everyone wants to know about my writing process and I don't even know this person to know if they do.

Who knows? It might have been all of the above!

So I gave up because I felt awful, and you know, maybe in a week or so I'll have a good day again, and I'll come back and be able to talk to you. If you still want to maybe we can have a slow motion conversation that way.

I'm sorry, I know it sucks. I know it feels bad, when people don't answer you. I know you start to wonder if you're just being annoying.

I'm so sorry. I really do try.

But a lot of the time I just can't. I really, really, really can't, and if you are commenting on a story in particular it's not that I don't enjoy concrit (I do!) or lengthy comments or anything like that, but the thing is: I often put up stories not when I feel good, but when I already feel so bad it's hard to breathe. I will try to answer, I will! But it will take a while, and if it's been weeks I might never manage it. I'll feel bad about that, and I know maybe you're feeling bad too. I'm really sorry. But I spent a very long time basically not talking at all because I didn't know if I'd be able to respond, and believe me, that sucked worse.

From my end, anyhow. I bet plenty of people didn't care.

God, I'm trying, but it's so damn hard. I hate saying so. I feel like Whiny McWhinersen making excuses, and I know it doesn't help because people still get hurt but. There you go.

Apologies,

Me

ETA: I should probably add that this is not exactly about people who are subscribed to my journal, one way or the other, although I often wish I could manage to interact with you all more, because I like you - I generally figure that if you haven't taken me off by now, my brain's habit of dumping me on the side of the highway to walk back to down is something you don't take personally. But it. Is part of why I have trouble talking to new people, and why sometimes stories sit on my journal for months and never get promoted anywhere.

*handwavyhandwavy*

Okay! The frightening, intrusive thoughts can stop any moment now! I would be totally cool with that! You know what else I would be cool with? The feeling of free floating panic! That too can leave at any time, I mean, I don't need a hug and kiss good bye, I'm not going to be worried that I am a boring host visited only because of social convention so really there's no pressing need to wait on me, just show yourselves out...

The strange thing is that if I overheard somebody talking this way about anyone else, I would categorically reject the discourse, and have plenty of articulate reasons for doing so. But when it's me talking to me I have so much trouble shutting it down and not believing it, even though I don't in fact believe any of the basic premises behind this nonsense. It's really exhausting.