This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

Today I remembered what it was like to be in Middle School again.

Or Elementary School,

Or High School.

They all blur together.

Someone posted something,

I don’t know them very well,

but I thought they were hurting.

I misunderstood the post.

I’ve never been very good at reading a room.

I also don’t do small talk.

I don’t connect to people over “Hi” and “What do you do for a living?”

I connect to people over really real shit.

So, I thought they were hurting.

And I reached out, to say things that felt right to say in the situation.

From the little I knew.

From the bits and pieces I’d seen come across my page.

Nothing specific, but just generic, heart felt, ramblings.

It’s funny, it was about how we are all both the hero and the villain in a situation depending on who is telling the story, and how that is okay.




It turned out their post was actually about the cat that was pictured.

And not a vague book with a random cat photo attached.



And I quickly became the villain in their telling of the story.

And in their friends telling of the story.



And that is okay.

I know that I did what I always do.

I tried to be really real and open and honest and heartfelt and vulnerable.

And I got reminded why it’s dangerous to do that around people you don’t know well.

And how it can be unsolicited advice.

And how it can seem like I’m standing on a soap box.

And how it can appear that I’m being overly intimate.



When the situation was over, I told myself, and those around me, that I was fine.

I understood.

It was no big deal.

But I wasn’t fine

I had reached out.

I had been my big bright shiny self.

And I got my hand slapped.

And the second my hand was slapped I checked that persons facebook to see who our mutual friends were, who was I going to be embarrassed in front of.

And I fought back and forth between dirty deleting and leaving it there.

And I started questioning all of my good intentions and wondering why I wasn’t normal like everyone else?

Why I can’t just see a cat picture as a cat picture?

Why do I talk to strangers in grocery stores and have us hugging before we leave the line?

Why do I have deep conversations with Lyft drivers?

Why do I have no conversational boundaries?

And as the day went on I shrank further and further into myself.



It isn’t a big deal, most likely.

I was out of line, I didn’t know this person and it wasn’t my place to help even if they were hurting.

I was too wordy and had no idea what I was talking about.

I was butting my face where it didn’t belong.

I know better than to comment on posts, I don’t do it often, because I’m afraid of that embarrassment when I read the “room” wrong.

I often read the room wrong.

Its why I’m super quiet in a group,

but talk non stop one on one.

It’s harder to have that large scale embarrassment if only one person is there to witness your fuck up.

So, today I remembered why I’m both quiet and loud, depending on the situation.

Today I remembered why I try so hard not to be too much.

And I’d love to say that this doesn’t bother me and I can move on,

but that’s not the case.

I learned my lesson.

And, before someone reads this wrong, no one responding to that post did anything wrong.

I came out of left field with some big emotional response to something where it wasn’t warranted, and there was a reaction of “WTF” and, because they don’t really know me, “Who the fuck”

But, it was still a stark reminder that I am not like everyone else.

And sometimes that really really hurts.