Some of Us Are Made of Shades of Weird Only We Can See

Something can be absolutely worthless to us, but mean the world (plus a galaxy-full of peace of mind) to another. For this reason, I think we should always think a bit before opening our pie-holes, and offering opinions that are too focused on our own views of the world to hold much validity in someone else’s life.

You are probably wondering where I’m going with this, huh? Of course you are. I wouldn’t love you this much if you weren’t super brilliant. Well, since I relocated my main blogging efforts, I’ve been grumbling about how much work it will be to categorize Magaly Guerrero’s Pagan Culture, in order to turn it into an accessible archive. Someone, who probably thought I wasn’t within earshot, suggested I “created useless work” for myself. That if I didn’t have time to spend on something few people wanted anyway, I “should move on and shut up about it.”

I didn’t say anything to the person. Mostly because I was already upset about something else—I have this huge disability increase evaluation coming up, and I’m not looking forward to the poking and prodding my future holds—so most things that come out of my mouth in the heat of the moment would sound a tad irritated. After I cooled off, I just pushed the individual in question and the comment out of my mind for a while.

Then I started thinking about how small this person’s world must be. This would be the only explanation for her not seeing that different people have different needs and for different reasons. Let me give you an example: I can be quite obsessive. Most times this fact makes me stronger—I won’t let go of something until it’s done. But when my mind is vulnerable, my obsessive nature can take too much from me.

When I’m emotionally overwhelmed (the days around the anniversary of my little brother’s death were particularly tough), I must count. I have to physically count things like… words. I must place the tip of my finger on each word I type and count them aloud. Some might be telling themselves, “Um… mad Witch, you do know your computer can do that for you?” Yes, I know. But it doesn’t matter; my mind won’t quiet or give me peace until I count the damn things. When control is snatched away from me, I must find a way to get it back… or I can’t function.

The same is true for what I have to do with Magaly Guerrero’s Pagan Culture. I’m not sure how many truly understand how attached I am to that blog and its content; how much the theft hurt me. When someone took so much from it that the place was left like it was no longer mine, my brain needed a way to reclaim it. The archive will do that for me; so I can’t just choose not to do it. The compulsion to go through the posts, make them mine again, and find a proper home for them again is nearly as strong as the need to write this entry, so that the annoyance caused by the person who made the comment can leave my system and I don’t implode.

We all have a little weird in us. Some of us are made of shades of weird only we can see the importance of. I try to remind myself of that every time someone says or does something that feels ridiculous to me. If it makes sense to them and it doesn’t hurt me or anyone else, then all is good with the world. Living and letting others do the same is not such a complex notion, so I wonder why it is so difficult for some people to conceive.

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