they told me nothing was wrong

i always knew something was really different about me. i grew up in queens, new york and went to public schools. i was bullied, physically and verbally every single day. i was told i was stupid, the r-word, and gay all the time. i remember lining up for class in the school yard, each class had its own queue. how did the kids know where to go? i'd often stand in the wrong one. i'd daydream. all of a sudden the kids ahead of me were no longer there. what happened? what did they look like? they all looked the same to me.

it was play time, in kindergarten. all the kids ran to the back of the room where there was a collection of fake kitchens, wooden trains with tracks, blocks, and other toys. i thought, how did they decide what they wanted to play? how did they know no one else wanted this toy? how did they resolve conflict when two people wanted to play with the same toy? the rules just didn't make any sense to me. so i tried to fit as best as i could. miss walden, my teacher, must've seen something because she treated me with such care, i've never forgotten it. she helped me find a toy and a group to play with. during music time, she'd find a spot for me to sit near her. i never again had a teacher like that in my life. during the hard times, i remembered her. that care helped me through. to know that such a thing existed.

i often didn't understand my teachers. they were teaching inequality. i got it immediately. then my teacher went into how the inequality signs are alligator mouths and the alligators are hungry and want to eat the numbers. at that point, i was lost. i lost confidence in my understanding and then answered incorrectly when called upon. i don't know, i'm not an alligator!

i recently looked at my 6th grade (that's when you're 11 years old about) graduation signature book. it's sort of like a year book, but mostly to have your classmates write something in it to remember them by. many of them said very hurtful things. "i never knew someone could be so fat". funny thing, i wasn't even really overweight.

around the same time, my parents organised a trip to watch a baseball game. i couldn't tell you who they were playing. that's the thing, i couldn't care less. i was anxious about spending hours doing nothing, so i thought, maybe we could play some D&D during the ballgame, at least that would be fun. it seemed like a rational idea, who doesn't like D&D? well, they saw me with my books. they laughed at me, very much "out loud". joe (the father of the other family) said that i was planning to read the books during the game and continued to laugh.

i didn't admit thinking we could actually play.

i went to university and joined the computer science program. it was a funny time. for the first time ever, i could communicate with my peers. we had things in common. we read sci-fi or fantasy books, comic books, played TTRPGs. people stopped calling me names. people didn't mock me. by now i didn't need them to say it anymore. i said it to myself, and no one could hear it. i was stupid. i was ugly. i was broken. it was just somehow better hidden now.

after university, i was doing ok at work but i was still suffering. i didn't know really why i was suffering. i just knew i had relationship problems that seemed to be all my fault. why couldn't i do simple things? why did i lose track of time and forget to pick her up?

i had money, tv shows had people going to see therapists and that seemed to be the thing to do. i remember gathering all my nerves to talk to a therapist for the first time. i was scared to death. i was afraid of being judged, baring myself, showing who i really was. remember, i believed the talk. i was stupid, a monster, unlovable. with inherent flaws in me that no one could possibly fix. at best, maybe i can get some relief and make it bearable.

i went in, she was an older lady. she asked me why i came in, i hadn't rehearsed an answer. i stuttered and said that i just wanted therapy, you know, because it's good for me. she gave me a quizzical look then gave me a bunch of surveys (questionnaires) to fill out. most of them asked me questions about death and suicidal thoughts. i didn't have any of those. i never did, oddly enough - at least not until i started taking antidepressants years later, but that's another story. she gathered them all up, scored them, and i got my grade. congratulations, you're not depressed nor suicidal. you don't need therapy. no need to come back, thank you, bye!

i left in a daze. i somehow didn't imagine this outcome. well, i tried, so i guess there's nothing anyone can do, i'll just have to live with my failure and shame.

i sometimes wonder what it would have been like if i met the right therapist, could i have saved years and years of suffering?

i was focused on career and got a position as VP at a fortune 500 company. i was sitting in a meeting with my manager, an SVP, and her manager, an EVP, and the head of nickelodeon. i had one of those moments when the camera zooms out, the noise gets muted. i looked at each one in turn and realised, these poor fuckers. each one is more stressed and depressed than i am. all they did was fight for their fiefdom and look out for backstabbers. the corporate ladder wasn't for me. i was done. something switched inside me that day. it took a while for it to really seep in, but i realised that work and money wasn't happiness.

i decided to move to france to learn the language. i hyperfixated on this for 6 months and got to C1 level. i could write nice academic sounding letters but i had a hard time speaking more casually about my feelings. i just didn't have the practice. so i went to fix this. i thought, where does one talk about feelings a lot? psychotherapy seemed the obvious answer. great! let's try that again. this should be pretty easy since i don't have real problems, right? that last therapist told me so.

oh god was i wrong. then began the long adventure of self-discovery.