I’ve got to tell you something and I’m being dead serious about it. I’m perplexed by something I just discovered. Let me give you some context.
The other day I was finishing my read of Sleepwalk with me and other painfully true stories by one of my personal comedy heroes: Mike Birbiglia. He was 32 when he wrote that book, which is an awesome book. I maintain that it is no longer necessary for me to write an autobiography, since his life seems to have been so close to mine.
But then I started thinking, what would I write if I wrote an autobiography? Should I start right away, so that I don’t forget things? Will I remember things more brightly or more darkly? Had the fact that Birbiglia was so young when he wrote it have anything to do with his perception of his adolescence and childhood?
So I started mentally arranging the memories of my life and looking at significant moments and I’m drawing a blank on the elementary/middle school section. I can remember the time I spent with my family, but not at school.
And then it hit me. I think my mind blocked my memories of early school.
You know, because of bullying and stuff.
It is weird when you realize you have blocked an entire part of your mind because how do you know? How am I sure? What if I’m just very forgetful?
I need to dwell in this stuff for a while. I also just recently diagnosed myself with extreme social anxiety. I made this expert diagnosis because I just left a party I just could not be in any longer. There were too many people.
I have never actually gotten how to stay at really big parties. I know people normally do it. I kind of understand the charm, I’ve just never really applied it to myself. I do try sometimes, but it’s mostly when I’m medicated with either drugs or alcohol. Drugs don’t make things much better anyway, and alcohol doesn’t let me drive home. So like…there’s that.
And like now I’m here.