So, I’ve been trying to figure out how to say what I next want to say.

Do I dislike who, and what, I am? Of course not. That’s ludicrous. I know that I’m a good person, even though people have said I’m such a horrible person, I shouldn’t even hang out with people who want to see me, because I’m that toxic. Thanks, Pat and Barbara!, et. al.

Do I despise who I am? Even more ludicrous. I was born to understand love and humanity. Yes, I know, some people will view me with contempt and disdain, because I’m injured – thanks again, y’all! – and don’t think there’s any reason to listen to me, to find out if maybe there’s a good explanation for why I’m acting strangly.

Well – do I feel unwavering contempt for myself, for doing, and acting, strangely, in ways that people will later view as contempt-worthy, and hateful, even though I can see that my actions allowed a hateful person to see me as contempt-worthy and hateful? Dude – I really do not do self-hatred, nor do I hate the disabled and injured. Why are we discussing all of these stupid questions?

Here’s why: Do I feel completely and thoroughly ashamed of being someone, who, on occasion, suffers from extreme fatigue, neurodivergence, infrequent emotional lability too extreme to allow rationality, and, do I further feel totally ashamed and worthless, because I can’t always be a mature, responsible, emotionally-stable grown-up able to hold productive discussions about relationships?

Yes. 100%, and totally. It’s why I can’t write anything these days – everything sounds like the whining of an ugly, faceless, useless hunk of biomass.

There’s a song that’s been ringing through my head – probably Odetta’s version, it sounds like her strong, wise, voice, leading “this little light of mine… I’m gonna let it shine….” One of my gifts, insofar as it’s worthy of the name, is, I see lights that shine, better than many. I could see it in both of my brothers – I later realized it was in me, too, but I wasn’t aware of the signs.

Once I hit maturity, I learned about my own heart’s ability to shine, to see joy, and beauty, love, and, all manner of wonderful things. Even better, I learned to have some control over it. I learned to shine it. I could see the effect it had on people. It made me happy.

One really awful thing about being me – about having my particular set of circumstances – is that parts of me shut down, without warning. Once a person sees this light from me, I understand that it can be painful if it’s gone, so I exert a lot of energy to turn it on, when needed, and to keep it going while I’m with someone. But over the long term, my life has been one where the light is bound to go out, and I’m no longer completely human. That’s how it feels, and not having something all humans have is, in a sense, being “not completely human.” You see what I’m saying? I’m human, but something is missing, just as surely as if it was amputated, except, a light to shine can grow back. Hypothetically, at least.

The worst thing is, due to my disabilities, I sometimes turn ugly, in mood, expression, mannerisms, or appearance. Sometimes, even if I know I’m ugly, I’m too tired to fix it. And people can justifiably freak out because of that, you see? I can’t blame someone for freaking out – it’s not a normal kind of ugly, so people have to adapt. The problem is shame.

Because I’m ashamed of being broken, damaged goods, toxic, etc., I never think through how I’m broken, why people say I’m damaged goods, what specific toxins are present, and how can they be neutralized, etc.. I avoid it – it’s past the door labeled “shameful stuff, do not disturb.” So, when someone freaks the eff out, I’m not ready to explain things to them.

Just out of the blue, I came up with “I’m sorry – sometimes, my emotions express themselves in a weird way, due to my PTSD.” But first, I had to confront the shame enough to recognize that I’m not crucifying myself in front of people, I’m just offering an explanation. Instead, my shame leads me to try to ignore the times I’m damaged goods, or toxic, and hope the other person just forgets. That’s not a terrible strategy, to hope a friend forgets a behavioral outlier – but an explanation makes it easier for them to understand, and not need to forget, the outlier.

I’m ashamed that I need to remind myself to be a good, happy-making, human being – it’s not enough to do nothing wrong, you need to do some things that are right. I’m deeply ashamed of having weaknesses that could be pointed to and mocked, which would hurt when I’m exhausted, or mentally/emotionally injured. And I couldn’t tell you, not if my brain clicked on, and I was no longer damaged goods, and not if I had a million years, could I tell you, how ashamed I am that I can’t turn on “this little light of mine.”

I miss you – all of you out there. But without that light, nothing really seems to make any sense, so, it’s really, really, difficult to engage.