2001-04-11 - 4:17 p.m.

An Agony of Un-Doubt

My mind is currently split between work and Mer, which makes it hard to come up with anything really interesting to say in my own diary. Um, um, um, um...

Well, I got my taxes done. As usual, I owe. No surprise there.

I was talking to Mer over the weekend about her Dad. Without abusing the confidentiality of our talks, I think I can safely say that she was putting some stuff on herself that didn't belong there. In attempting to convince her of the wrongness of her thought, I mentioned that I never really wonder whether I might be good enough for whatever I want.

She was quite surprised. I was surprised when she was surprised. I should have learned by now, but I'm always caught off-guard by self-doubt. I end up feeling like I need to do something to cure it for whomever I'm talking to, which is of course a ridiculous idea.

I really don't know how I ended up with so little of it. I'm going to take a stab, and maybe tie it in with the one wee thing that might give my background something in common with Mer's.

I'm adopted. This is where I can sort of claim to have something in common with Mer- I was left behind by *both* my birth parents. Of course, I was immediately taken in by two other people, who are the only parents I've ever known, and who love me dearly. So it's a pretty tenuous link.

Anyway, my adoptive parents and I have never quite been sympatico. From the time I can remember, I've been wanting to do my own thing. That usually meant reading quietly in my room, going to the library, or maybe watching TV. It never involved the things my parents like. (Well, almost never.) As I grew up, I largely stopped looking to my parents for approval. That isn't to say that I didn't care what they thought of me; it's just that by the time I was a teenager and was scheduled for serious self-hatred, I was used to the idea that they could be wrong about things.

I remember very clearly an argument when I was sixteen. My sister's friend's Mom dropped my sister's friend off at our house and told me to give them a ride later that afternoon. Since I had plans, I told her I wouldn't. She attempted to pull the old "I'm an adult and you do what I say," routine, and I blew her off.

My Mom was furious that I had been so insolent to an adult, but I knew very clearly that she was wrong. I would take orders from my Mom and Dad because they had raised me, fed me, clothed me, and put a roof over my head. My sister's friend's Mom was just some woman. I had no need whatsoever to do what she said, and if she didn't like it, well, to hell with her.

To this day, when someone tells me I'm wrong about something I've made up my mind on, I conclude that the someone must be stupid, or at least ignorant.

That makes me cursed hard for other people to get along with. A little uncertainty goes a long way towards lubricating social interaction. But, hey, it's me and I won't apologize.

This may be part of why Julie Raybon would never date me. I think being around someone with my refusal to notice the grey areas must have grated on her a bit. It also bothers me a little that when my friends go through hard times, I frequently end up wondering how on earth they could possibly feel the way they do. Which isn't to say I don't care, it's just them I'm left baffled.

On the other hand, as I told Mer during that same conversation, I still love my friends. Morover, I never doubt them, even when they may doubt themselves. Hopefully that means I still have something worthwhile to give.

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