I rarely post here anymore but occasionally I’ll write sentimental things that I want to keep, so I might start posting them here, like the diaries of my youth.
At my allergy appointment today, the nurse told me she wished she could see me everyday because I’m so funny. It reminded me of the other day when I was flipping through old yearbooks and noticed multiple people had mentioned how funny I was or that I made class enjoyable in their notes. A coworker recently said we could have our own standup comedy show.
Some of my mom’s friends told her they thought I was mean when they met me or heard things I’ve said. One of my dad’s coworkers insinuated that I was mean after hearing something I said when he brought me to his office for “take your daughter to work day”. I’ve heard I sound mean when talking about my husband or when I talk to my husband around other people.
I have a very dark sense of humor and can be brutally honest, with my ADHD and anxiety thrown in, every interaction feels like I’m walking on a tightrope trying to find the right balance between humorous and hateful. I’m always reminded of Parker Posey’s quote “I can do comedy, so people want me to do that, but the other side of comedy is depression. Deep, deep depression is the flip side of comedy.”
Except that I’m not actually a cruel person, or at least I don’t mean to be, and I crumble to pieces each time I hear it. Perhaps I have a tough exterior from putting up walls as a defense mechanism to childhood trauma. Perhaps those walls thickened as a coping mechanism to survive working in a cut-throat and male dominated field.
Whatever the reason may be, I hope that if and when people get to know the real me, they’re able to see my true nature. I don’t want to be known or thought of as a mean person.