All In My Head

Growing up, I had a very active imagination. I remember my summer spent in Okinawa, when it was so hot and humid outside that the minute you stepped out the door, you were drenched in sweat. The house was sandwiched between a hog-fat boiling company and a crematorium. You can imagine how lovely it smelled, especially on hot, humid evenings. So I spent a lot of time indoors, during the hottest parts of the day so my skin didn't melt off.

My mom had bought me a box of construction paper and scissors before I left, and I remember spending a good part of the summer making my own cut-out dolls, creating new clothes and homes, cars, dogs, trees, anything I could think of out of paper and markers. These dolls had miltiple personalities too, so sometimes they would need city clothes, and sometime overalls and a pitch-fork. I spent hours down on the cool wood floor playing with my dolls, enacting decade-long sagas all by myself.

As I got older, I got stuck more and more in my head. The summer I turned 13, we were living in a new house and I went to school in a city 15 minutes away, so I didn't have many friends my age around me. I remember lying on my bed for hours, daydreaming about going to the beach, or hiking up a dangerous mountain range with just a box or matches and a tent to help me survive. Sadly, I also fantasized about boys I liked, imagining how they might ask me on a date, or what i would wear to the movies with my friends when I "happened" to see them. I did get out a lot, but when it was too hot, or I was bored with whatever I was doing, I always knew I had my mental retreat to fall back on.

Up until a few years ago, I could still go to that place if I wanted to. Before going to sleep when I had an interview the next day I would rehearse in my mind how I would answer questions, how I would cross my legs, or fold my hands in my lap. It was like practice, but it was all in my head. I knew that it got worse when I was depressed, sometimes I would lay in bed for hours with my eyes closed, dreaming and imagining of a better palced. In the morning I would be exhausted because although I was physiclaly in bed for 10 hours, I may have slept only 5 or 6. Time flew by, and I was happy in my mind, but realized it was affeecting my social life. I didn't always have the option to go out when I wanted to because I wasn't spending enough time cultivating real relationships.

So I made a decision to get out of my head and start relating to people more. For a time, whenever I was invited somewhere, I went, regardless of how boring or stupid I thought it would be. Just to be out, and not in my own head.

I don't think it's so black and white for me anymore, real or imagined. I sometimes have trouble differentiating between dreams and reality. Just the other day I felt bad for not giving a friend a cup of coffee after she asked, and when I apologized, she had to let me know that it had never happened. Not that I'm delusional, but my dreams and fantasies are so real, I sometimes can't tell if something happened or not.

I think my imaginings are one reason I get so disappointed in life. Sometimes I'll imagine something, like P taking me to lunch for Mother's Day, and when it doesn't happen, I'm sorely disappointed. The worst feeling in the world for me is being disappointed. I'd rather not hope for anything than to be let down, and recently I've been believing the lies he tells me, and getting my hopes up that things will be different. But they aren't. And that breaks my heart.