I am from the camp that assumes no one likes me. A group laughing over in the corner, with people I thought could be friends, can ruin my whole day. Someone cutting in line. A girl who I let borrow a hair tie telling me I’m a bitch. I basically grew up terrified of people because I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t get positive interactions from them.

My father would tell me to stop being so scared of people. He’d tell me to stop taking things so personally.

This includes when my friend called me a slut. It was in jest. I really don’t take it too personally…sure, I’ve had done some questionable things around that time but I’m not embarrassed by them. I confronted her about it, told her it hurt, and she said it didn’t mean anything and that she didn’t mean to hurt me. That was all I needed. I needed to know I wasn’t going to lose my one friend while I tried to fall asleep in some other guy’s bed a week later.

I hate being hated. I hate being judged. I hate hurting people. I believe that I’m a very sympathetic person who is unable to understand anything that isn’t directly said to me. It’s complicated. I’m currently in the process trying to figure out why. Is it organic? Is it because I was raised in isolation and never interacted with people? Am I just an asshole that values human lives more than you would expect an asshole to? The jury is still out.

However, that hasn’t stopped people from telling me that I’m men, evil, spiteful, someone that they should keep at bay because I hurt their feelings. I had a very recent interaction with a coworker who said I made her cry at her desk a few months back after saying a self deprecating joke to our team lead about how I write code. The “joke” went “Hey, I hear you hate if/else statements. Man, if you hate her coding, you will think I’m the worst programmer ever.” After that day, I felt pure hate in the office and have been spending hours each day trying to figure out the best way to quit my job. I had no idea it was because of that statement until a few days ago.

A few months back, I hit the final straw with an ex after I mentioned he took down a lot of his Funko Pops in his kitchen. “Where did all the ladies go?” He told me that made him have to stop, reflect on himself if he was misogynistic, and that I meant to hurt him. When I said the classic “It was just a joke”, he retorted back with “That is what bullies say.” I looked at a 30-something man with too much money in toys stare me down, saying that I was bullying him about his lack of female Pops while I was averaging 1/30 female Pops of my own at home in my bookcase.

You want to know what bullies say? “Go fucking kill yourself.” “You fat ass. Your legs are bigger than tree trunks.” “You are worthless.” “You are a waste of space.” Someone who you slept with mentioning they noticed you redecorated and playfully punches you on the shoulder while saying “Where did the ladies go?” doesn’t seem to be in the same category. Was it mean? Sure. Can it hurt your feelings? Sure.

Can you react badly to it because you are sensitive and tell the person that they hurt your feelings? Yes. Can you assume they mean to hurt you and ice them out, purposely tell them they are cruel only after they confront you because you decided they didn’t matter or have any place in your world? Can you assume that they won’t spend days in extreme distress for hurting another person because they are also sensitive? No.

Can you tell I’m upset by this? I never got the chance to be sensitive growing up. I spent holidays with statements like “We aren’t laughing at you, but with you….well, kind of at you.” “Learn to take a joke.” “Stop being so sensitive.” “Grow up.”

So now I’m at a crossroad where I kind of like my humor, get told I’m funny by a lot. I’ve learned to speak up when people say something that hurts and learn to stop taking shit so personally. However, I still find myself with people in my life that blueball me around town to the point I’ve become a hermit in fear of seeing them (re the ex) and trying to figure out if I can financially support quitting my job (re coworker) because the last thing I want to do is hurt people.

Scratch that, I can’t not hurt people. The last thing I want is to keep being told I’m the reason someone is hurting, something I’m somehow supposed to surmise with no direct information, for being me. I’m tired of hating myself because of sensitive people because I’m one of them.