This got me thinking

Just started seeing a new counselor guy. I think I like him; we'll see. One of the questions he asked me in our first meeting, while typical, ended up surprising me. He asked me how high school was for me.

Pure, unadulterated, hell.

Why?

And then I had to think for a moment. Why WAS it that bad? I had a couple of good friends. I wasn't popular, but most of us weren't popular in high school. My experiences with fucktard husband #1 (the guy who said that I was lucky he was dating me because nobody else would) certainly put a damper on things - hard to enjoy yourself when you're in a relationship with a moron like that, and too stupid yourself to realize you should have set the guy on fire after the FIRST time he pulled some bullshit. That blows a good chunk of my time; sophomore thru senior year wasted on him. I occasionally wonder how my life would have been different had I known enough to not get involved with him.

But other than that, I felt different. No, DIFFERENT. In middle school I had been part of the "Misfit's Club" - those kids that weren't friends with anybody else. People have always called me weird, or strange. I've always been very emotional - kids stomping on bugs bothered me. Talking about people starving in the world reduced me to tears. I loved to learn. I think my favorite class was Humanities - the way everything in the world is interconnected is one of the things that makes me just vibrate with passion. But the stuff other kids in high school talked about just didn't make any sense to me. I wasn't interested in sports, I liked music but wasn't a rabid fan of anybody (I listened to the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel mostly, for chrissakes) and my sense of fashion was unusual, to put it mildly. Brand names meant nothing to me. I loved to sing, and was constantly irritated by the people in chorus who were there for two years just for the credit requirement. I always thought that in my junior & senior year, those people would go off and do something else and leave the chorus to those of us perfectionists that were passionately interested in it. (It was a great disappointment when they stuck around - that's largely why I quit chorus my junior year and joined band. Another mistake.) I didn't think I was attractive. (I look back now and say "Holy Shit! Damn, I'd have done me!")

I'm rambling. I do that a lot. To myself and out loud, too, so Hex isn't the only one. This stupid navel gazing sometimes tires me. I keep doing it because I'm trying to find out what's wrong with me. Or, failing that, I'm trying to find coping mechanisms so I can live with myself. (And let other people live with me; being married with two kids kinda blows my hermit option.)

Maybe I over-think things. I'm going to go do something else.