A nut, in a nutshell

I have come to realize that wearing my heart on my sleeve like I do, it's a double-edged sword whose edges are fucking sharp. On the good side, those that know me well really recognize what makes me tick. They all understand exactly where I'm coming from. On the bad side, it means I am completely incapable of playing it cool when something (good or bad) comes along. And the people who don't know me tend to be very suspicious of my actions. There is no poker face in these situations, and while the edges are sharp, all I wind up doing is repeatedly hitting myself in the head with the blunt end of the double-edged sword.

Unexpected surprises are my worst enemy.

When it is time to sit back and quietly reflect on the simplicity of the moment, I can't stop my mouth from nervously rambling on about anything and everything in a vain attempt to avoid the silence.

When it is time to say something, my mind is a tangle of wordless thought swirling at a million miles a second. To say the first thing that comes to mind, as the situation demands, leaves me in a mess of um's, er's and uh's.

It's like a game of king of the mountain between my brain, my heart and various other parts of my body. Everyone's jockeying for position at that huge megaphone in my head that tells me what to do next. I'm charming, I'm shy, I'm brave, I'm a nervous wreck, I'm a winner, I'm a blathering idiot, etc. It's no wonder now why my thighs have the most developed muscles in my otherwise overweight body...it's because I am in a constant fight-or-flight response.

Any attempt to explain this becomes confusing to the listener, which naturally leads to over-explanation, which leads to me sounding like a tactless creep, then I over-correct and somehow manage to play it off as "the clumsy approach". Clumsy is putting it lightly, In actuality, it feels like every Hugh Grant movie played int the span of just a few minutes.

Impulse control is gone at this point. If the situation is positive, all I do is crave MORE. If the situation is bad, everything goes into slow motion with my brain constantly reviewing the instant replay.

They say that the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. What they never tell you is the other steps towards recovery are a bitch and a half, and step two in this case seems to be confused bitching.

And now, I'm off to bed to try and shut off the megaphone for a few hours.