I, Object.

If I can, I’d like to start this off with a long, weary sigh. The kind that leaves me like a soft and crumpled ice cream cone; soggy and warped, a sort of casual, accidental disappointment. Hopefully the birds or bugs will eat it. I’m on another disorganised rant and I’ve dropped my ice cream and broken my own heart, again.

I’ve caught myself wondering how I’ve allowed myself to be objectified in ways I can’t handle. This has gone on for a long time; probably longer than I’m consciously aware of, and I need it to stop for the sake of my (residual) sanity and safety.

Before I complain too much, I must say that I have objectified myself a lot in my life so far, but I feel justified in that. It should always be my decision, and I can admit that it’s intentional a lot of the time, and I have pragmatic reasons for doing so.

That said, most of the time, I am not an object, but a person. A multi-faceted being with a varied past and uncertain future, with a complex mind and a kind heart. I need to nurture this, because it keeps me anchored in tough times, and stops me from feeling empty and out of control. As bitter and sad as I can sometimes be, I still love myself deep down. I get annoyed when my personality is ignored in those moments. This happens daily.

I don’t want to get angry about it, but I do. I wish I could help it, but I can’t even say how sick of it I am. There are no proper words for the sickening and familiar feeling it stokes within me, but I know it burns slowly and sinks like hot coals through a bed of delicate tissue. My viscera now has a cellar, and it’s full of stinking bile and imbued with dread. I’m pissed as shit.

I have no friends. Of course I know people who are friendly to me whenever they see me, but I’m not sure if I can call them friends. Maybe I need to re-appraise my idea of friendship, but I digress. Part of this is my fault, as I can get too stuck in my own head, having convinced myself that I can’t navigate most social encounters properly, so I tend to avoid people and most social gatherings.

When I do decide to hang out with people and play my part in less solitary pursuits, I am very uptight, despite putting in a lot of effort to be more open. It’s pretty up and down, but I know I drink too much. It’s not like it’s my undoing, but I’m too used to watching doctors wince as I give them ballpark numbers and vague definitions of standard units to pretend that it’s not a problem. As for other drugs, the problem is too complex for me to want to get into right now. Point is, at baseline, I can’t relax around people.

It’s hard to figure out why, because there are so many reasons, but I’m gradually breaking it down for myself and making a start on understanding what’s behind this.

Another soggy-cone sigh.

Part of this is because I get objectified by the wrong people, at the wrong times. I present myself as a person and get seen and treated as an object instead, and it leaves me feeling like a na├»ve piece of meat. In my mind, I’m just strolling on in like a confident child who’s ready to share their toys in the sandpit, for the sake of playing a decent game for once, because playing alone limits the fun. In their minds, I’m wearing fishnets and giving them the fuck-me eyes as I sink a finger into their hole of choice, with my ankles crossed behind my head, and I am the toy.

I want to assert myself as a person, but I find it difficult to distract myself from the shock of being a toy in someone’s head. Often, I am made to feel terrible for not being a thing, a prop, like I have no business talking about the things I’m passionate about because my mouth belongs on someone’s dick, according to them. They think my hobbies & interests are trivial at best. God damn it, why? Then people remark on how sad I am, as if it’s easy to keep my head held high amidst all this ignorance of the spirit of who I truly am. I’m angry and sad, standing here at the margin of validity, feeling myself disappearing. It’s… uh… not good.

I want to be able to healthily assert my humanity. I want to say things like, “hey, I’m not about that and I’m starting to get uncomfortable”. I want to be nice about it, despite knowing that I don’t owe anyone my niceness in those moments. As justified as it would be to shock them out of their expectations, I’m not sure if I’d like myself afterwards if I just end up screaming at people and getting escorted out of places I like.

At the end of the day, I just want people to treat me like I don’t owe them anything due to my appearance. I like to make myself look nice, and I want to be able to do that without having to defend myself against the unfair expectations of others. I want my interactions to be taken at face value, without this pungent undertone of anyone wanting to be alone with me for less wholesome reasons.

I want to be able to trust people again, and I need to be able to grow. I hope with everything I’ve got that I will find a way.

Advertisements