Act I: I didn't choose the bed life, the bed life chose me.

So. In my very first post I said I was going to tell you a story. A story about me. A sort of ugly story. I think sharing our stories is super important. And now that I've given a bit of an introduction to the major themes in my life, I'm ready to go.

I don't pretend to be a theological scholar and my intention is not to make a social commentary. I don't think my opinions count for anything to anyone except for myself. lol I can barely live my own life so I'm certainly not going to attempt to take yours on too. I just want to tell ya'll a story. 

I'm a relational person. If anyone knows me, they know that I like to spend a lot of time in bed pretending the world doesn't exist, but I lay in bed pretending the world doesn't exist because I am a relational person. It all makes sense, I swear. I am an emotionally passionate person, but not an emotionally strong one. Having personal relationships with people is what adds value and joy to my life. But when those relationships also dish out hurt, I retreat like a turtle into my shell. Or like a clown fish into an anemone. The anemone is a better analogy. I'd rather be a clown fish than a turtle. Depending on the type of turtle I suppose. Anyways... After a while, the seclusion gets comfortable, and staying in the anemone becomes more desirable than going out into the ocean because you're safe from harm. Your life isn't getting better, but it's not getting worse either, and that's worth something. And that, my friends, was (and sometimes still is) my mindset. So I stayed in my anemone, keeping the bad out, but often keeping the good out too. 

While the initial appearance of protection seems appealing, it began to eat away at me. Because I am a relational person and I need connection with people.

I have been using this coping strategy for as long as I can remember. Avoid the hurt, just avoid it. My bed won't hurt me, my bed provides me with comfort and warmth. Why would I leave it to have to deal with people? Makes puuuuurfect sense. I would love to be a cat. They just lay around and sleep and eat and do their own thing and don't really care about the humans. Unfortunately, I am not a cat, and whether or not I choose to admit it, I care about the humans. 

I was never (not even now) actually comfortable with who I was as a child or a teenager. I tried my best to be friends with people but I would flip flop between trying to be a part of the group and hiding in my bed. Petrified of any kind of rejection, I just didn't put myself out there. To some degree that has been a part of my personality my whole life, but it is also partly a learned reaction. Because I'm oh so emotionally sensitive, everything that happened to me that could be perceived as rejection, would appear clearly as rejection in my eyes. Therefore, I saw rejection everywhere and pulled the blankets up over my head for protection from it all. Half of it wasn't even real. It was me not being able to navigate relationships and handle my environment. 

When I was in grade 11, my biology teacher noticed I wasn't looking too well and talked to the guidance department. Before long I was having weekly appointments with a school psychologist. I had real problems going on then. Family health concerns and whatnot. But when it came down to it, I was handling that stuff pretty well. What was eating away at me more than anything was a dysfunctional friendship that I had poured my heart into. I felt abandoned and alone and I believed, for real, that I wasn't that good of a person. Truly though, as a result of my shell/anemone/bed coping mechanism and my fear of rejection, I didn't allow my personality to show half the time. I was shy and weird. And I felt like an unnecessary addition to my closest friends. I just accepted it as part of my identity and tried to move on. (FYI: this is not how I wanted to feel. I was not feeling sorry for myself. If I was feeling sorry for myself I would have gone around saying "Oh look at me I'm so sad, nobody likes me, blah blah blah" to get validation from all my friends. This wasn't a surface issue. I legitimately believed, deep down inside myself, that I wasn't as worthwhile as some other people.) Until this school psychologist challenged it. I saw her every Tuesday at 11:30am all through grade 11. I came out of that with a much healthier perspective on relationships and how to negotiate my way through relationship-based problems. Twas grand. One step in a better direction. Still not the right direction, but i was getting there. 

There we'll leave 16 year old Laura for now. Slightly emotionally unstable but still mostly a good egg.