Is something wrong with me?

I started doubting myself. I started asking myself if I was human.

I started noticing it after every one around me made me notice it.

Nobody ever reacts like me, nobody ever understands my way of acting, everyone always find it weird and it’s clearly showing in their expressions, very obviously. This latter is another difference. I never have this reactions and expressions. I notice them in others, but I just can’t have them and I’m not effected by theirs.

I just notice them. I just notice things. I don’t get effected or moved by anything really.

I remember my mum, a very eccentric theatre teacher, telling me to let myself go, to experience more, to explore my feelings, to express more with my body and face.

I experienced a lot, but no feeling has ever followed. At least, not the feeling they’re all describing. I have my own way of feeling. These are not feelings, they say, that’s being rational and analytical, but I get overheated and persevere when I have to further explain myself or when things are not going as planned, isn’t that feeling?

I don’t know.

Everyone around me seems to want to prove to me that I’m cold, that I show nothing real about myself but all I do is saying everything that’s on my mind, all the time. I share constantly but they can’t understand it. They can’t get to me somehow.

I’m not sure why and my doubt came to surface when I dig into myself and discovered that I don’t really care if they don’t, which is particular as they are my family and friends.

Maybe I don’t care because all I hear from them is how I should open up, how I should see a therapist, how my face don’t move, how I have no real reaction. They never really complain about my way of listening and taking care of them. A part from the old “cold” matter. I never cry with them, I never really have crisis or drama going on, I’m never upset. Well yes, I get upset, but should I cry or destroy myself by drinking the hell out every bar in the city? I don’t find that logical nor useful. I’m pragmatic, so what? Is that wrong?

I see their frustration, I see their sadness, I watch them getting exasperated at me but I just can’t understand it. As much as they can’t understand me. The difference is that I don’t judge them, I don’t tell them they’re wrong, I try to find the key to interpret as better as I can their feelings. I don’t see that done with me. But again, it’s okay. I move on.

Even in my relationships has been the same. Men always break up with me, never the other way around. I never seem to find an unsolvable problem. Every time that I see an obstacle, my mind goes directly to the solution. I don’t know if this is love, but I think that showing up for your man and being present, being there for him anytime he needs, staying and not running away, I think this is how I define love.

They all run away from me though. Men.

Even the coldest man I dated, this last one that put the cherry on top of my doubts, a CEO of a multimillionaire company, ruthless as everyone around him defined him, which I never agreed with, I found him honest, kind, direct and pragmatic, but even he dumped me. Because I was too much, he couldn’t handle me, he couldn’t stand me. My family and friends never liked him, but I did and it fell out of the blue. I couldn’t understand, again.

- Too much what?

- Too much everything but emotion

- I don’t understand, explain please

- You never do. You don’t understand shades, you don’t see under-texts, you are socially awkward, you try to be the best all the times and, congratulations, you actually made it. You are always the fucking best

- What are you talking about? Me being the best? In what?

- In everything! It’s exhausting! Whoever says anything, in any fields, you always have a better or more accurate answer

- Oh so you are accusing me of being too accurate? Too intelligent? So if I hear something not right I should just shut up, is this what you are saying?

- Yes Caroline, yes. Sometimes, there are some situations where you just listen and don’t intervene. You just leave it.

- I don’t know if I can do that...

- Especially if your loved one is expressing a very important opinion or talking about a very important project that he worked on so hard...

- Oh...I thought that honesty and being straight forward was something we had in common. I was trying to be helpful, to give you all the accurate information I had...

- Not in front of other people! Not in front of all my team and my superiors!

- You never wanted to show me the project before, I would’ve corrected you earlier if you shared it with me...

- See?! Again...

- What now?

- You are always contradicting me, contradicting all the people around you and never understand...and you never will. You just don’t see it. It’s not nice Caroline

- Not nice? Am I not nice?

- No, you are not!

He stormed out murmuring something while I sat on the couch, wondering how was I not nice.

My head started swirling around, collecting all the pieces of information of that conversation and trying to make it make sense. It didn’t. It just didn’t. How was I not nice? Being honest, real and apprehensive is not nice? Is it preferable to lie? To hide things? To shut up when you know something’s off? No, it couldn’t be.

Furthermore, the most hated person I know, the man I dated for a year and lived with for two months, as per everyone say ruthless, unkind, rude, cold...he, of all people, he said I wasn’t nice. Madness. How could my mind understand that.

After some time, I called my mom.

- Mom, am I not nice?

- Hey hello sweetie! Lovely to hear from you. How are you doing? How’s things going?

I repeated myself.

- What? what are you talking about? Where is this coming from, sweetie?

- Mom, please, just answer. Am I not nice?

- Well...sometimes you can be a little bit direct let’s say. Maybe too direct.

Again, this “too”. I’m always “too” something.

- Direct and nice are two different things mom. Am I not nice? Please just answer honestly.

- Oh well, no sweetie, you are not exactly the definition of nice…

My father must’ve been very close and heard the conversation. He picked up the phone.

- Give me that phone! What’s wrong darling? Who put you that crap inside the head?

She didn’t have the time to answer that her father added:

- Listen darling, we are not nice. No, we are not. You are not and neither am I.

- How do you mean? I think you are.

- I know I know darling.

- So what am I not getting?

He proceeded telling me that it wasn’t important, that I was who I was, that I couldn’t be liked by everyone and that I didn’t have to be influenced by these opinions. I wasn’t. But I just couldn’t understand.

Nice. Someone polite, kind, well-mannered, agreeable, friendly, cordial, good-natured, subtle, fine, delicate, meticulous and accurate. Maybe delicate is the only adjective I wouldn’t use for myself but I was sure I was all the rest. I was sure I was being a good friend, a good partner, a good daughter. I thought I was nice.

I told him about Kevin.

- Darling, people don’t like to be outclassed. Especially men and especially men like him. They just want a yes woman by their side, somebody who supports them and cheer them on, no matter if they’re right or wrong.

- I thought I was being supportive dad. I was at his corner and having his back all the time, I wanted to see him succeed and be the best version of himself.

- I know you were, that’s why you are so special. You never have resentment. I’ve seen people hurting you with lots of unnecessary words and you never resented them. You have always been supportive, helpful and honest with them anyway. If that’s not kindness, I don’t’ know what it is. You might not be very nice in manners, because of your directness, but believe me, you are the kindest, most supportive and helpful person I know Caroline.

As she wasn’t answering, he added:

- Darling, don’t mind them. Do you want to stop by for dinner? Mom is making your favorite dish, meatloaf.

- It’s your favorite dish dad.

- I know I know. Please stop by, your mother and I would love that.

I politely declined and started thinking about my favorite dish. I couldn’t remember it. I didn’t have one. I couldn’t remember the taste of any dish.

I sort of glitched, panicked. I was malfunctioning for the first time.

Then the phone screen lighten up. A phone call. From Kevin’s company. I answered. It was an absurd phone call. They were offering me his position in the company. They praised my abilities, my analytical thinking, my directness, my knowledge, my efficiency. They’ve been keeping an eye on me since he brought me in occasionally, at gatherings, dinners and some project presentations. I stood out to them instantly.

Where some people see flaws, other people were seeing qualities.

They were starting to explain how they were let down by the last project presentation of my ex, the same one I corrected him about, but I abruptly stopped them and accepted the position. I immediately stated my conditions, which they accepted and we agreed on the meeting date to sign the contract. They were ecstatic. I started thinking about all the practicalities related to this decision.

Done that, I closed the computer. I was sitting at the kitchen counter. I always found it comfortable.

I looked at the fridge, then at the clock. It was 9.30. I hadn’t eat yet. I had to. I wanted to. I opened the fridge. Lots of vegetables, some white rice and lentils curry leftover, Kevin’s disgusting leftovers, thrown away immediately. The more I was looking at the goods in the fridge, the more I was noticing that my mind was trying to find a logical pattern, what should I eat first to avoid any waste, what was going bad first, what was more nutritional, what was healthier, but...what did I wanted to eat? Was I even hungry?

“Hungry, not hungry, what does it matter!” I thought closing the fridge.

I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza.

One minute later, I was cancelling the order, checking if the money was back in the account and putting my dinner in the microwave. Rice and lentils curry were more than fine for tonight.

Looking at the numbers counting down on the microwave display, I thought of my sudden instinct to order a pizza then of the sudden thought that I should’ve listen to my father and dine with my parents tonight.

I never second guessed my decisions nor thought too much about them. I usually just know and just do. I can change the route as I acquire new information but not like that. Looking at the plate spinning, I wasn’t sure I wanted to eat it. I kind of wanted to see my dad.

Out of question, it was too late.

I wanted to swear, but I couldn’t.

What was happening to me?