Hit me on my blind side, left me on the floor

I am going to pause my NYC recap for a bit whilst I collect my thoughts. Something happened to me yesterday that really shook me to my core and I want to write about that first.

This essay will include discussions of body image, abuse, and self worth. If these are not the discussions for you, I will see you next time.

I would be lying if I said I didn't burst into tears every single time I see this advert.

I had originally thought it was an advert for some dating app, but apparently, it's for BART itself. I don't know what it is about this app that makes me just lose it crying. I don't know what raw and vulnerable place inside me that it taps into that makes me burst instantly into tears. I don't truly cannot tell you that of all things this is the thing that makes me cry my eyes out.

I have no interest whatsoever in dating, and I am dem!/grays3xual, so I do not catch feelings on top of my broader lack of interest. I have what I refer to as Schrödinger's Touch Aversion--is it the years of abuse? Is is the neurodivergence? As with the age old question of how many licks it takes to get to the centre of a Tootsie Roll pop, the world may never know. Only in this case, it may be the years of CSA and physical abuse, or it may be the potential autism they still cannot for sure say if I have or not. Fun stuff.

I am not saying this because I am Not Like Other Girls, I am just trying to get you to understand where I am. Because me crying my face off every single time I see a romantic BART advert for itself is a surprise to me, too.

And, I've thought about it, it's not necessarily that those kinds of human interactions are things that I crave, or even want, and I certainly have felt pressured over the years to want-to-want these things. Me not caring about these things or having any inclination towards these things has certainly been a point of contention of the years. I think for me, what makes me cry (because I have thought about this for a while) is that I realize that for the vast majority of people, this is normal, and that I do not get to have basic, normal human experiences that other people get to have. 

What if this hadn't happened to me? What if my brain wasn't broken? What if my body wasn't disgusting?

I had felt pretty cute yesterday.

It wasn't the most flattering outfit, and I wish that my waist had been more defined, but it was a cute outfit and I liked it. I very rarely don't wear tights in favour of just shorts underneath, which is something I had tried out in NYC for the first time in years. Since it's been so humid, I thought why not! But I had felt cute, and I was really trying very hard to feel more at ease and just even a little less covered up. Live just a little more.

There are a couple of people I refer to as my "transit crushes," people who ride the train that I have taken notice of--mostly because they are all still masking and are polite commuters, but also a couple of them are also attractive (from what I can tell, because they're still masking I haven't seen their faces). It's nothing serious, but I have joked with a few of my friends that "transit crushes" are perfect because in a way, they're "safe" (or so I thought, but more on that in a second); safe because I can maladaptive daydream about all the little dates that were at one time promised to me that... that never took me on and feel like a normal girl for once-- with none of the bad stuff like being touched (barf) or finding out they have the incorrect opinion of Splash Mountain.

So, yesterday, I see one of my transit crushes, whom I had noticed for a while. I  need you to know that have never had meaningful, substantial, or significant interactions with this person. I have never spoken to this person. I have ridden in the same train car with them before. I've made eye contact with them because I, for safety reasons, try to make eye contact with the people around me on the platform because of how dangerous BART is. Once I got into the same train car as this person on purpose, did not sit anywhere near them, because there was an altercation on the platform as we were getting on the train, and I thought standing near people who were larger and taller than me, whom I had made eye contact with, would be a safe option for me.

Well, yesterday, my joking pie-in-the-sky transit crush saw me, and... ran away.  Like this person saw me, and booked it away from me, and ran and hid behind one of the support beams.

I just want to reiterate that I have never spoken to this person. I do not know their name. I don't know anything about them. I have never had a single significant interaction with this person. I've never even fuckin' waved to them.

Someone that I've never actually met talk to or substantially interacted with saw me specifically ran away and hid.

For whatever reason, this hit me like a freight train. I don't to have even seemingly benign, normal human experiences commuting. 

I burst into tears. I felt embarrassed. I felt so upset--like what if I had done something that I wasn't even aware of that made them uncomfortable? Not even my absolutely pie-in-the-sky joke transit crush wants anything to do with me. I really do believe that there is something inherently wrong with me. I am sitting there on the train crying openly because there is no privacy on BART, which I can't even focus on because there is someone attacking other riders, screaming, and throwing things.

But, then, of course, the brain starts spinning: What if it's my body? What if they are so offended that someone with such a disgusting body so much as even looked their way? Is it the disgusting hair on my neck? Is it my lower abdomen that sticks out? It is that my legs are too masculine? Why am I the person that always gets cheated on, why am I the human security blanket but never anything else, why am I the person they are obsessed with but never love, why am I the person they didn't want but never let go of why do I never matter to the people I care about the most what if what if why why why why is it is it is why

Why can't I even have a silly, joking "crush" on someone I literally don't know, and why can't even so much as a "joke" resemble a normal human experience?

I don't even get to have a crush on someone, like not even a fake one, not even as a joke.

So, I am on the bus now at this point, crying, or trying to, and this woman is basically sitting on me, which I think perfectly exemplifies my commuting experiences.

I have been feeling especially shitty lately because of my "friends" purposely trying to trigger my dysmorphia by making unkind comments about my face they know will make my brain spiral (who  even needs enemies, honestly). I see myself, my face, and my body, as foreign and repulsive on a good day.

If we are being honest and realistic, which I feel as though we must, reality always pokes holes in even the most fanciful of maladaptive daydreaming. I cannot even enjoy my maladaptive daydreams, lmao.  Above is a list I write out every day of things that I have to do when I get home from work. I know that everyone makes fun of me and my list-making, but, unfortunately I would not be able to remember every single one of these things (ALL of which have to be completed) if I didn't. (I also notice people who make fun of my lists are in constant crisis because they can't get their shit together, are bad at planning, and often have to be saved from themselves, but that's none of my business, I guessssss!). I have from about 6:35 to 9:30 to get all of these things done (and this is a lighter day than most). At what point am I finding time to do anything but these chores? At what point do I have moments to spare--to waste, really-- on anything but my many chores. I have chored my entire life what I haven't maladaptive daydreamed away, and there are, truly, more important things to think about. How am I going to cut into the measly three hours I have to do everything on this list for something as stupid as dating, something that I don't even care about, but other people try to make me feel bad about not caring about?

I don't even get to enjoy what time off all this I do get, which is why I am trying to process my NYC trip feelings more before continuing. I am trying to find a way to articulate my feelings in a way that does not make me seem ungrateful.

I just feel like my dumb little feelings aren't even worth that much in the grand scheme of things anyway.