I have some self esteem issues. (Stop laughing back there.) It's always been like i wasn't good enough... With my partner it was like hey i'm not good enough because i don't make enough money, or because i'm unfaithful, or i'm unhealthy, or i'm a lousy lay, or i don't give enough, or whatever. At work it was more like i don't deserve to get paid what i do because i get distracted and can't give 100% all the time. But most of that stuff i have learned to deal with, just wacky beliefs in my head. What perhaps i haven't learned to deal with is not feeling good enough to hang in that same upper-middle class i fucking grew up in.
I didn't grow up with a big house and three cars and tropical vacations each year, but we always had good food in the fridge and new clothes when we needed and lived in safe, tree-lined neighborhoods. But something happened when i moved out of home. I moved into a raver house with negligible income, i spent most of that first year strung out and hanging with other people who only held jobs down just tight enough to pay for the next party, the next binge. I spent the next 10 years lurching from group to group, hanging with everyone from junkies to hippies to gays to young professionals with way more money than sense. For a while i became that young professional too - on the outside all successful in my downtown apartment with a seedier life behind the scenes.
And then i was just me. I settled down with a relatively healthy group of friends, a healthy relationship, hobbies and a happy house. We're all quite sane... I guess, though, a part of me feels like i'll never be good enough to go back now. Never went home again... Except my home is right here, right now. Everything i did was me, it's all part of who i am now, and i'm not ashamed. I like me - i fucking rock, damnit! Maybe i do feel good enough after all?
I just don't know how i fit in. To their lives, i mean. Tomorrow is another Friday Night Dinner. Yay for obligation and anxiety. We will talk about the bus that was set on fire yesterday, or the fall season TV debuts, or the cooler weather, or the US healthcare proposals, but we won't talk about me. I can't talk about me. I feel too far away from their reality and i don't know how to bridge the gap.
Something amusingly related (sort of)... I don't actually try to end up living next door to druggies, it just happens. I mean, this is a family neighborhood. I hope when we close the windows in winter i don't choke on the pot fumes from upstairs. The vacuuming in the middle of the night i have gotten used to, however.