"But I didn’t want to sit out."

I don’t like the fact that I’m making an entire post about this, but I’m doing it anyway. 

On Saturday at the Nutcracker auditions, I rolled my ankle. 
It was fine, I was able to bounce back and finish the combination, but it started hurting on Sunday.
I went to class yesterday, and couldn’t make it through the whole thing. My ankle started swelling after we went into the center.
I was really mad, because I really wanted to attempt the things in the combination. 
My brain was grasping the concept. 
I was accomplishing the challenges put in front of me.
But I knew better judgement was to sit it out.
But I didn’t want to sit it out.
I didn’t want to tell the teacher I don’t know about my ankle.
I didn’t want to sound like I was making up excuses.
I didn’t want to look like an idiot telling her, when she probably would have been fine with me just sitting out.
I didn’t want to look in capable in class.
I didn’t want to look like I was wimping out, that I was giving up.
So what did I do?
I talked about it.
I absolutely loathe when I do this. I mean, I hate it. I beat myself up about it for a while afterwards; yet I still do it.
So as I was driving home last night, I tried to figure out why I did the very thing I can’t stand.
I wanted control.
It was my way of letting people know that I wasn’t all the things I was afraid I appeared to be.
But why?
Why, when I know that most people probably aren’t thinking that?
Why, when there’s nothing anyone can do about it?
I think it goes back to how this seems to be a common theme in my life. 
Where bad things happen that are bad enough to hold me up, but not bad enough for most people to grasp and understand.
I got in a car wreck. It caused nerve damage, but nothing was broken.
My friend died. We were close, but I wasn’t her best friend.
I’m sick. It’s been going on for 11 years, but you can’t see it, and it’s inconsistent, so no one knows unless I let them.
I was depressed. But “that’s not possible, she’s so happy all the time.”
My friends leave me often, words can cut a little deeper since they’ve been said so many times. If I’ve chosen to let you close, and you lash out words you know hurt, I’ll shut you out, at least for a time.
Food and I don’t get along. We’re not friends. No one can fix it. Quit treating me like I’m not trying hard enough.
People laugh at my quirks, they can’t see the psychological reasoning and pain behind them.
People call me weak, think I need to just grow up. That I just need to get over it. But they don’t realize it’s more than that.
I could go on, but that list is making me mad. So whatever.
The point is, I’m still learning to stop caring about what people think.
I’ve come a long way, but it’s not always that easy. Because it’s deeper than just not caring about people’s opinions.
Because these are first impressions, these will last. These people don’t know me, so what they see and experience from me will determine more than is visible.
It can determine outcomes not yet seen in the future.
Like a life audition that’s ongoing.
They watch you in class, they see the way you function and what’s common of you and what’s expected and predictable, and that’s how they form their opinion.
no matter how much people try and change it or judge people for being that way, it will always be that way. It’s how we are wired to function. It’s how we protect ourselves. Everyone judges to some point. And that’s not necessarily bad.
I won’t get into the differences between bad and good judgement, but the point being is I am far too aware of how detrimental those judgements can be.
So, I’m working on it.
I iced my ankle last night and the swelling went down.
I don’t know what else to do for it, and it’s frustrating. 
My whole life, all I’ve wanted is a diagnosis, a reason, an explanation to the things that happen to me in life; some way to understand it. But I should know by now I don’t get that luxury.
This post is just me being real. 
This life is my story, and this story is unfortunately part of it; as stupid as it may make me feel.

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