fifty frenchmen can't be wrong (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
some_stars) wrote2011-09-28 10:04 am
some_stars) wrote2011-09-28 10:04 am
fuck everything
I finally made myself reply to two happy-birthday emails from my half-sisters in NYC. I was cheerful but a little intimate, I shared a few details about my life, I responded to their shared details with genuine interest, I made two tiny fucking works of socially-appropriate art. Just barely, but I actually managed it, and then this morning I woke up and checked my email, which I do before even sitting up, and found a reply from one of them telling me that "I don't know if you heard, but" my half-brother-in-law's dad has died and they're all currently at the funeral. I mean, not right this second out in the cemetery, presumably, but you know. I didn't know the guy, by the way; I've literally never even seen him. And of course I hadn't heard. I never hear, even when people tell me things, which is probably why they never bother to tell me.
So now I have to write that email. The "I'm sorry for the death of this person who was very close to you and whose name I don't even know" email, the version you write to family to whom you're supposed to be close. This is why I spent my entire life to date not even bothering, because it all becomes this gigantic tangle and you have a new tangle for every single person and I am congenitally devoid of the instincts everyone else has that motivate them to navigate their tangles and not fuck up at every turn and not consider them to be tangles but rather rewarding appealing relationships. Most people, when their beloved niece tells them about the magnet high school she's starting next fall, don't forget that information a week later and can't accurately retrieve it even when reminded--another thing I fucked up, and 100% characteristic.
I developed this habit of never recording anything to permanent memory very very early, because I genuinely didn't care about any of the people who kept telling me things, and I didn't even know how to care. (I was kind of a space alien as a child, and not the fun quirky kind.) It's pretty much ruined my life since then. It's impossible to make friends when you can't remember anything about their lives on a second/third/tenth meeting, and it's even more impossible not to be the Bad Sister/Daughter/Aunt when you give off every impression of not giving a shit.
no subject
Not being sarcastic; I have similar issues remembering stuff and paying attention to other people's details.
Which is one reason why a poster I'm currently making contains a reminder that when people ask you a question about yourself, sometimes you are not only expected to answer it, but to ask them a question in return that gives them a chance to talk about themselves.
(I'm 37. These things take me a long, long time to work out.)
It's not because I don't care about other people, it's just ... certain mechanisms my brain doesn't do well. So, commiserations.
But.
I'm not seeing how you failed, let alone humiliatingly. You sent socially-excellent e-mails! The fact that now you have to write yet another one doesn't mean you failed before.
(Tangentially, this may be something you're already entirely aware of, but -- from your posts, it looks like you've been having an especially rough time moodwise in the last few days. You mentioned in
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The failure is in the fact that 1.) I didn't know when I was clearly supposed to/everyone else did and 2.) whether or not it's technically my fault, I created a horrible awkward situation and 3.) I feel bad, therefore obviously I've failed at SOMETHING. This is logic!
Re the rest of your post, which I'm apparently addressing backward for some reason, I copy and paste from below but with total sincerity: I'm too tired for a proper reply right now, but it's nice to know that someone else shares this particular slice of brain malfunction.
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I developed this habit of never recording anything to permanent memory very very early, because I genuinely didn't care about any of the people who kept telling me things, and I didn't even know how to care.
That has so been me. It's been better in some ways in the last couple of years, but yeah, one of the things I remember occurring most frequently going farthest back in my childhood is not remembering various people's names---not just because I am bad at names but because it doesn't (used to never) occur to me that it mattered if I learned them or saw those people again. Ditto family news, etc.
Anyway -- you seem to describe things in ways that make them make so much more sense. I've subscribed to you, hope that's all right and no need to add back if you have too much going on.
no subject