March 14, 1970

 When I read entries like this, I regret writing some incidents down in such detail. Without a diary, my little hissy fit during an otherwise fine evening would be long forgotten. What set me off that night?

Anderson’s ribbing – which I heard as ridicule – probably felt like an assault given how thin-skinned I was. I hadn’t learned the best way to handle teasing is by mocking myself first. Most people respond better to self-deprecating humor than temper tantrums or prolonged pouts.

I'm hiding. Notice me!
I’m hiding. Notice me!

My deeper motivation for disappearing was to punish my friends for ignoring me, something friends shouldn’t do to friends. Leave it to a narcissist to grossly over-estimate the pain my absence inflicts on everyone in my orbit (because the world revolves around me). Would it make you more sympathetic to know my need to be treated like I’m special arises from low self-esteem? I’m no one until I’m reflected in someone’s admiring eyes.

"I'm just a soul whose intentions are good - Oh, Lord - please don't let me be misunderstood"
“I’m just a soul whose intentions are good – Oh, Lord – please don’t let me be misunderstood”

Eventually I outgrew this self-defeating behavior. I saw the light when I dated a histrionic guy whose need for attention drained every last drop of my respect and affection. I saw how toxic I could become, if I didn’t shape up. I never wanted to affect someone else so negatively. Unfortunately, by the time I wised up, most likely I already had – for which I’m truly sorry, if that helps.