Boxes   1 comment

Everyone in my life is placed in some sort of box.  This is through no fault of theirs, I hasten to add.

When trolling through my mind, I try to organize things.  One thing I try to organize is my relationships with others.  Every person fits neatly into one (or more) categories and, fortunately, my neurons are arranged to provide a box for every one!

(I’ve been told this actually isn’t fortunate.)

People are expected to act within the confines of their box, unless they plan on being moved to another box.  For example, a colleague with whom I do things outside of  work might be moved from the “Colleague” box to the “Work-Related Friends” box.  A friend with whom I had sex would probably be moved from the “Friends” box to the “FWB” box.  My psychiatrist was in the “Physicians” box until he started relating to me on a personal level.  (After freaking out about it to my therapist and being told it was appropriate) I moved him to the “Mental Health Professionals” box where, I must say, he really belonged.

Boxes can grow or shrink depending on the number of people in them.  They can also be modified if expectations change – if, say, I start going out after work with most of the people in my “Colleague” box, that aspect (the potential to go out after work) would be added to the box rather than my colleagues being moved.

It can get quite exhausting to try and fit everyone into a specific box, but it is one of my many safety mechanisms and, to be frank, I’m not really ready to get rid of it yet.  At some point, I hope I will be.


Posted February 7, 2012 by veggiewolf in Boxes, Depression

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One response to “Boxes

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  1. Pingback: Mirrored People – a response | Fluid Morality

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