Sad validation

(EDIT: I wrote this last night and accidentally hit "Publish" before I finished writing. Decided to get some sleep and finish this morning.)

What is the best way to gauge how people see us and whether or not our existence has value? How do you know? Is the value we assign to ourselves enough evidence that the daily effort of being is worthwhile?

I make no secret of the fact that I live in a paradoxical state of conflict: I no longer trust myself to make the right decisions about being involved with people beyond the most superficial relationships. I am lonely. I don't want to let anyone near. But I'm still lonely.

For this reason, I depend on professional relationships to keep me connected to the bigger world outside of my head. It's how I remember how to talk to people and to understand what is relevant in the world. If it weren't for this, I would get lost in my own head.

I have to work at it. I have to make sure I don't devolve into being completely socially retarded. Still, I am pleasant and funny and conscientious and aware. That does not mean I am liked. I am sure, in fact, that there are very few people who like me to the point of wanting anything more than those surface encounters.

I've never been popular. I don't have the looks for it, for sure, but I just don't have the personality for it, either. I think too much and say too many dorky things. I have, over the course of my life, proven to be highly...forgettable. I'm not the kind of person that people care about. My value to the world is in what I contribute, what I do for other people, what service or knowledge I can provide. Beyond that, though, I'm mostly under the radar. Unless someone wants something from me, it is quite evident that my presence or lack thereof would go unnoticed.

I try not to dwell. I tell myself I have what I need and it's a neat package inside of my head. There is my friend, Jolie, who may be a thousand miles away, but she's just a phone call away. That's it, though--she's a thousand miles away. Our phone calls are usually quite short and I come away wondering if I'm bothering her.

Joanna. We used to be close, but now she pops her head in only every three or four months or so, no matter how many messages I generate.

For someone who used to talk so much, I never thought I would see the day when the only conversation partner I would have would be binary code rolling off into Cyberspace. I'm not sure if that's a commentary on me and my place in the world, or just a cultural shift in general.

If I stop working, would I cease to exist, or, left with no one to chat with, would I finally shut the fuck up? Hmm.

What prompted today's musing? The realization that when I tried an experiment--to not call anyone, indefinitely, the only phone calls I received in six weeks were related to the nonprofit or to other business. No personal calls. People I call don't call me back. I can live with this invisibility, but it doesn't feel good. My husband tries to console me again and again with the same sentence: "People are busy and involved with their own lives, May; they have important things going on." So, I am not valued.

Not feeling sorry for myself. Just realizing that my worth in the world outside of my home is strictly utilitarian. Chairman Mao said that being useful was the most honorable aspect of life. Still processing that.