Adventures in Employment, Vol. 1: Am I the only one who thinks this?

"Were you sleeping? So what, were you planning on laying in bed all day?" the assistant manager asked, after calling me to talk me into working more.

"Yes. Yes, I was. I was planning on sleeping until I am actually scheduled to work," I replied. I wanted to add, "And that's none of your fucking business!" And with that, I wanted to just throw my hands up. 

One of my favorite bloggers, who shares her research into BPD as well as her own experiences, recently did a series of posts about BPD and Jobs/Careers (Posts 1, 2, 3, and 4.) Now she has several engineering degrees and works a steady, high-intellect job, but has some of the same crazy thinking that I do when on the job. These are things that don't seem all that strange to me, because that's how I've always felt, but that most people in my life can't relate to. From post 2:

It can be tough. I see over and over how family and friends of people with BPD get down on those of us that have a harder time maintaining adequate employment.  Inevitably what I see is, “She’s just lazy and refuses to get to work on time,” or,  ”If he would just do [INSERT normal brain function that is impaired for us] it would be fine,”. There are plenty of other iterations but they all fall into the general category of: I don’t see why you can’t just grow up, be normal, and act like an “adult”.

1. Because we’re not “normal” (whatever that is).

1. Because there are a lot of things going on in our brains that make this whole “being an adult thing” kind of impaired. Like having the emotional development of a 3 year old. < ---- That’s actually what psychologists say. People with BPD tend to have a stunted emotional growth (often due to childhood trauma) which contributes to poor interpersonal development.

1. This isn’t a helpful attitude. I get that it’s shitty for the Nons in our life too, but this is not helpful. We’re not dysfunctional on purpose. We didn’t choose to have the chemical responses that cause our brains to freak the hell out. What we need is to learn the kind of coping mechanisms that will allow us to be more functional. Blaming and shaming pretty much just makes us feel even more worthless and even more angry. When you feel worthless and you’re super pissed about it, that’s not going to end well for anyone. Just sayin’.

Not helpful face. Full of snark. (not me)

So why is it so difficult for some people with BPD to have steady employment? (Some People – this isn’t true of everyone, but it’s common enough).
Yanno all those things that hinder us in our day to day lives? Yeah those don’t magically go away when we punch in from 9a-5p (or 7a to 4p in my case). So now it’s even more important to hide it all.
So why’s it so hard?
·         Identity Issues·         Paranoia·         Criticism/Rejection·         Splitting·         Impulsive Behavior·         Co-morbid symptoms·         Poor Stress Response

I'm gonna guess that the above is how my step-dad, TyRoy, and probably even Moneypenny have looked at my work history. People just go to work. That's what you do. Unless you're some lazy, freeloading asshole. It's not all that hard. In my head, I can hear Moneypenny telling me that half of life is just showing up, as is much of graduating from college. But sometimes just showing up is hard. Then staying there can be even harder.

The getting a job and getting to the job like I'm supposed to get hampered by the "co-morbid symptoms" and the "poor stress responses." I get depressed about not having a job and it's harder to get motivated to apply for jobs. I have never been able to sleep when I was supposed to and being anxious about getting up on time for an early shift or about the job itself leads to rumination which leads to very little sleep. Then, I don't get up on time or sometimes I don't get up at all.

If only that was where my issues ended. There's also black and white thinking (what the blogger refers to as "splitting") and impulsive behavior.

Black and white.


“People with BPD may be more likely to view potential work situations in terms of extremes, idealizing each potential job or career choice as an opportunity like no other. A person with BPD may be blind to anything potentially negative or questionable about the job. This perspective can also hide potential difficulties in achieving the idealized goals. For instance, if Bruce were looking into certain sales positions, he would need to be able to clearly assess his ability to make cold calls and deal with the rejection from these calls (something that he is extremely sensitive to) in order to reap the rewards of the generous sales commission plan.”

 I’m not sure how I feel about that particular example but I definitely know what it’s like to idealize and then demonize a particular job. Hell, I do it all the time. Ever have one of those days where everything goes wrong, nothing goes right, and all you can think about is the bad, atrocious things you have to do and put up with every single day? Sure. Everyone has. Now imagine those scenes from the day projected onto an I-MAX screen in 3-D magnified with surround sound replaying endlessly on repeated ruminations inside your own head. Everyone deals with it, but it feels extreme. And it’s impossible to remember the reasons to stay when you’re shrouded in the darkness from the day. I have plenty of days where I hate what I do. I have days where I love what I do and feel like I’m the king of the world wearing a clockwork crown of awesomeness. I rarely have days where I just feel content. I actually hate feeling like I’m not progressing. I hate the feeling of stagnation. I hate that sometimes you just have to keep plugging on, for what seems like an endless indefinite amount of time with no site of change.

For me, on a day like today, it feels impossible to remember the good things about the job. When you're settled with a client and things are going well, you don't talk to the main office very often. My client, his wife, and I are in a nice little groove and things are going well. But I'd also worked with another client, his family likes me, and the office e-mailed me to see if I could sub in for his current caregiver. But I'm fine with the number of hours I have right now, which I haven't been able to convey to the office. I was planning on emailing them back this afternoon, until the assistant manager called me before I even woke up this morning. Every time they call me about working with another client, I feel so much pressure. I feel like I'm letting them and the other client down if I say no. I feel like I'm going to be judged if I just tell the truth, which is that I don't really need to work 40 hours, that I'm happy getting 60 hours over a two week pay period. And, as they usually call me when I'm half asleep or stressing about something else, I am not really "with it" enough to firmly explain myself and turn them down. Then, all I can think about is how much this sucks, how I hate this pressure, how I've ended up working more hours than I want or need because I couldn't turn them down, how I won't have enough time to myself to decompress and destress in between shifts.

This leads to the rumination. All I've been thinking for the past twelve hours is "I can't fucking do this. I'm so fucking done. Done, done, done, done, done." Which quickly leads to "How can I not do this? This work thing that people find so easy, that most people can do every day, forty hours a week, more than forty hours, that so many people all over this country are busting their as looking for, how can I not do this? What the fuck is wrong with me that I want to just give up on a job that I actually really like, that is rewarding for me, and most people would love to have?" Then, I get even more freaked out thinking about the near future. This job has made me contemplate getting schooling in this field, but I know that many jobs, most jobs, in this field require 12 hour work days in much stressful situations than the one I'm currently in. How am I going to be able to do that if I can barely do this? Which leads to being freaked out about the future, even longer term. I can't make a living doing this, especially with no certification. So what am I going to do? Though I know this might make most people more resolved to work harder, I just don't have much fight left in me. It just makes me want to give up.

Which usually leads me to impulsive behavior. I attempt to take back my power, either through acting out in my private life, which usually bleeds through to negatively effect my work life, or by lashing out, even just quitting, at work.

 One of the problems with having impulsivity as a part of the way your brain reacts is that by definition, there’s no time given to consider consequences. When you’re faced with a scenario that makes you feel threatened (paranoia, stress) that fight or flight response kicks in. Adrenaline pumps, fear chokes you, and all there is to do is react. When you have a disorder that is marked by emotional dysregulation (a.k.a. impulsive emotional responses) controlling those emotional responses is extremely difficult, if not impossible, if we haven’t learned how.

For example, receiving criticism in the work place can trigger a fear or anger response leading to vocal attacks or quitting on the spot. Hearing something, being in a situation, where you feel like your job is threatened, you become paranoid that you’re going to get fired, so instead of letting someone do something to you, take that control away from  you, humiliate you, it’s better to take action, make the decision yourself, quit on the spot… except less thought out and more emotionally charged.

I had a very unrewarding job as the cashier at a valet stand. One particularly busy Saturday night, the bosses decided to hover over my stand. Not just my immediate manager, but the bosses of my boss's boss. The company didn't have a very good way of keeping track of the keys in relation to the tickets and I was getting really frustrated by the end of the night as more people came back for the cars. My bosses were pushing me to go faster, while not actually helping at all. Finally, in frustration, in front of a group of customers, I told one of them to just give me goddamn minute. Yeah. That didn't go over well. Instead of just apologizing and hoping that it might blow over, I took my employer-issued shirt, tossed it at my manager, and walked off the job. That job doesn't go on the resumes.

Not all my decisions to quit are that impulsive, but they aren't usually that well thought out either. I've never had a job for over a year, I've rarely given a two week notice, and I've only ever once had a job before I quit the previous one. If it wasn't for the fact that I'd be leaving my client(s) high and dry, I probably would have already quit this job in one of my freak-out sessions. And if I hadn't been working on the DBT skills for a year. Hell, if I hadn't been half asleep, I'd probably have said everything I wanted to say to the assistant manager, then I'd have added paranoia to my ruminations.

I know that other people have much more difficult lives than I do, much more difficult jobs than I do, much more difficult bosses than I do. I know that they do it everyday and don't bitch half as much as this. I don't want to discount them and I don't want to say that "normal" people don't have these same thoughts. I really have no idea. But what I now know that I didn't know until those posts was that any other people felt like I do. While group has shown me that I'm not alone in some of my fucked up thinking, most of those people are actually firmly employed and, as it's an education group not a process group, I don't hear as much about what goes on in their heads in relation to their jobs. Reading her blog posts gave me a window into the thoughts of another person who felt those same things, but the fact that she is steadily employed gave me hope.

(Yes, I did just get into gifs. Why do you ask?)

"The other day I saw a car like you used to drive..."

Yesterday, getting into my car, it smelled like it always used to when it was her car. That is to say, it smelled like a perfume of cigarette smoke. Not lingering smoke, like someone had just smoked in the car, but like how everything in a smoker's house smells, if they'd been gone a couple of days, the way that scent seems to have seeped into every bit of fabric. I always leave my car windows rolled down while I'm at work, so it's a bit cooler when I get into the car and there must have been some combination of the temperature and the rain the sky was threatening that unlocked the last little bits of that fragrance. My grandma refusing to be forgotten. As if I ever could.

Today, as I pulled out of the drive at work, there was a Mazda 626, the car of my client's friend. He'd had one of those. Actually, one summer, he had one and his (now ex-)wife (or was she his girlfriend then? I can't remember) each had one. One of the 626s was yellow and we managed to "lose" it in the parking lot after a concert. Turns out we parked much farther away than we remembered. I made it all the way onto the highway before I started crying and even then it was only a few tears. That must be some kind of record.

I do not know how to communicate how this feels, not even to myself. I only know how it does feel. I know that when I start to think "Will this ever get better?" I can look back at how I felt when the losses occurred and know that it does not feel that same way anymore, though it is difficult for me to label the difference as "better." It is not as intense, not as overwhelming, not as painful, not as likely to lead me to disassociate from my feelings, more manageable. So I guess most people would say that it is better, but just because something is brighter than black does not necessarily mean it is light.

I thought that I would heal, that all these breaks were clean. A painful reset, a good bit of time in a cast, but then I'd be almost as good as new, except for some pain when a storm rolled through. And with my grandparents, I am. I miss them, but it feels... like it was what should be. I thought by now that I would be more at peace with more with my uncle's death, that I would be more healed. "People love that cliche: time heals all wounds. But live long enough and you realize that most cliches are true. It's amazing what even the smallest passages of time can accomplish, the cuts it can close, the imperfections it can smooth over. But in the end, it comes down to the size of the wound, doesn't it? If the wound is deep enough, there might be no way to keep it from festering, even if you have all the time in the world." I no longer feel like I walk through life an open wound, raw nerves constantly exposed, but I don't think that the pieces will ever fit back together or that the wound will ever truly heal.

And it is hard when you feel like the people around you just wish you would get over it already. Don't get me wrong, I know that some of them wish that I was "over it" because they don't want me to be in pain, though I'm sure some of them feel that they are "over it" and I should be too, while still others are just tired of hearing about it. How do you tell them that you'll never be "over it" without them taking that to mean that you'll always be the same brand of basketcase that you were at the funeral or are at memorials and death-anniversaries? And how do you tell them that everyday you are more accepting of, even alright with, the fact that you'll never be "over it," that you'll never be who you were, that there will always be something missing because the person who is gone is missing? "Who can say if I have been changed for the better? But because I knew you, I have been changed for good."

I think that I should be sad, that this should be painful. Pain and sadness are natural responses to hurt and loss. I think that feeling those emotions tells us how much we hurt, that what we lost meant something to us. I don't think that anyone should go through life pain and sadness free. Now, suffering is the thing we're supposed to be working to reduce. I'm not sure that the people who know me think I'm doing the best job at that either, but, meh, it's a work in progress. The point is that I don't feel like it shouldn't be painful to be without those I love, that I shouldn't be a bit sad when I remember them. Like when I see a Mazda 626.

Late-night: Another song about rain

tink tink tink

The sound of the rain on the window is cited in books, poems, and songs. But I've never personally met someone who shared a fondness for it quite like I do. Never came upon a lover with their head against a window, tears of rain rolling down the other side. Never looked for a friend in the house, only to find them outside, with a drink or cigarette, enjoying the coolness, just looking out. I would be that person, if anyone ever came looking for me when I slipped out. Maybe, like many other things, those are affectations only found in movies.

I used to think I wanted someone like that. But if one has to have my baggage to appreciate the rain this way, then maybe i'd rather not.

I can hear the rain come down, I can listen with my heart
I can see with both eyes closed in the dark
Sleep will come in just a while but till it does I choose
To listen to the rain, it's the rhythm of the blues

I walk along these streets of home that once belonged to us
And now baby I walk alone and I am lost
In the sound of my own footsteps on the avenues
I guess I'm only walking to rhythm of the blues

I don't wanna hear another word spoken, I don't wanna see another tear shed
I can't seem to fix what's broken, like this record baby in my head

Lonely looks as bad on me as lonely looks on you
And still we keep on moving to the rhythm of the blues

I want a place to call my own, where you have never been
I wanna look around and know you won't be coming back again
On some pretense paper-thin that I can see right through
You come and go baby, like the rhythm of the blues
You come and go baby, like the rhythm of the blues
You come and go baby, like the rhythm of the blues...

Everybody Leaves

I can't seem to help other people without also digging into my own life, my own past, my own motivations, my own soul. In our current situation, where everyone keeps asserting that I did nothing wrong, even the person who did me wrong asserts it, it would seem like it would only be that person who's soul would be laid bare, but I can't help him, help us, if I don't understand him, and I can't understand him until I grasp the differences between us. 

One of the big issues in this whole thing is lying. Look, I've watched enough soap operas and tv dramas to know the reasons that people lie. But on a personal level, it's much more difficult for me to understand. Maybe it's because I am so familiar with those soap operas and tv dramas and I know what the results are of lying and secret-keeping. 

For those who don't know, I've been struggling with mental illness for as long as I can remember. What sticks out most in my mind is the sadness. From the time I was 12 or so, I remember that, unless I was secretly reading under the covers, I cried every night. I felt like I couldn't tell anyone. I knew that when I cried but couldn't explain why, hell even when I could explain why, I was told to get it together, that I was being too emotional, looked at like a freak. As if I didn't already have enough that made me feel like a freak. But I longed to tell someone. I played out the conversation over and over again in my mind. When my uncle and I had to share a room when my family visited, I laid awake at night going over and over what I would tell him when I woke him up and told him how overwhelmingly sad I was all the time. I never did though. 

I was never very good at keeping secrets or having much of a sense of privacy. A lifetime of watching those "very special episodes" where a secondary character comes out of the closet with the help and support of one of the main (straight) characters taught me that the shame was in it being a secret, not what the secret was, and that anyone who made you feel differently should be kicked right the fuck out of your life. The only other kind of secrets, or things one lied about, were when one did something wrong, knowingly transgressed, and that seemed to have an easy solution- to not do wrong. 

In the recent troubles, this other person told me that he was very afraid of disappointing people because then they would dislike him and then they would leave him. So he lied. But the lying isolated him from any help or support he might get from those he loved and was so afraid of disappointing. While I could technically understand that, personally it feels completely foreign to me. 

My biological father left my life when I was five. By the time I was nine, I knew that it was absolutely his choice that he was not in my life. Right around that time, a few other people in my life also died. Not people I was terribly close to, but people I knew. My friends started to move away, their parents choosing to move them to even farther, and thus safer, suburbs as they entered middle school. This is when I realized that everyone leaves. Whether they choose to or not, everyone leaves. 

I'm learning that some of the crazy behavior that bpd's exhibit within relationships stem from abandonment issues. When bdp's manipulate, lie, bareknuckle it to keep a person in their life, it's because we are so afraid that they are going to leave us. But, as crazy as it seems, on the flip side, when we do things that we know will push people away, we are doing it because we are so afraid that they are going to leave us that we do the dirty work for them. 

As I grew up, of course, I was afraid of disappointing the people that I loved. I worked my ass of in school to prove that I was worthy of the love of my parents and to not disappoint them. When I got a new friend, or wanted someone to be my friend, I would learn as much as I could about what they liked so that they would like me, or like me more. I tried to always be the friend who was there anytime they had a crisis, because then it was even more important to not disappoint. But if someone was going to leave me anyway, they should at least know who they were leaving. I might have learned about stuff that they liked, but I also tried to be me as much as possible, often as loudly and even offensively as possible. I often made it downright impossible to love me and stay with me. But if a person did stay, then I felt like that meant that they really did love me and accept me, all of me. Still, there was always the irrefutable truth that they would eventually leave, even if it was not their choice.  That knowledge can be very freeing, though. It allowed me to do all kinds of things, be all kinds of things, fuck up in all kinds of ways, because, unlike my friend, I wasn't overwhelmed by a fear that those  I loved would leave me. 

My friend had an intact and functional family. One of his sets of grandparents lived just down the street. His family lived in the same house from his early grade school days. Other than a beloved grandparent, I don't think he's lost someone close to him from his life that wasn't his choice to this day. While that's a place I'm very envious of, always have been very envious of, it also means that he doesn't know what it's like to live through those kinds of loss and come out on the other side, to know that you can be left and survive. And it's not a lesson I was able to bring myself to teach him this time.

I don't know if it's like this for everyone, but I suspect that for most people it is. When I met TyRoy, the marriage he would have done anything to keep together, did everything he could to keep together, was ending. He told me that he wasn't going to change for anyone and that if someone wanted something different they could keep walking. He was blatantly boldly honest about who he was, what he wanted, the things he knew he couldn't do for others people, for a relationship, and didn't care if I or other people thought that made him a bad person. Before writing this post, I asked him a little lying that he did in his past. Though the reasons he gave for lying in previous relationships were his own, different that what I might have assumed, he did write "most people are more afraid of the loss not the lie." I'd still posit that he couldn't be as honest as he is now if he hadn't gone through such a great loss and come out on the other side of it knowing that even even losses that great, that painful, do not kill you. 

(Not) Running

But if I weren't leaving you, I don't know what I would do. But the more I go, the less I know- will the fire still burn on my return? Keep the path lit on the only road I know. Honey, all I know to do is go.

I have hazy memories of either singing this to you, sending you the lyrics, or at least thinking it in reference to us during a period when I was moving so we could be together, ending the year we'd spent in a long-distance relationship. I remember wanting to express to you, a young man with no desires to live anywhere other than the metro area where you grew up, the restlessness I had always felt.

Coming back from our whirlwind Vegas wedding trip, I played this for BT, feeling like I'd finally found someone who understood that desire to go.

Looking back at it all now, I'm not sure if what I thought was a desire to go wasn't really just the impulse to run away. But, as the saying goes, wherever you go, there you are.

I'm not sure if it's age or experience or the therapy, but I feel that desire receding. I still want to see so much more of the world than I have at this point. I still want to live in other, bigger cities, not just visit them on rushed tourist-y vacations. But if I got offered the chance to live in the city I was born in again, even if I knew I'd never live in a different city again, I'd jump at that chance in a heartbeat. But because I love it, not because I'm running to or away from anything.

I'm about a month into a new job and I don't feel like running yet. Don't get me wrong. I don't see myself doing this job forever and I'm already looking to what the next goals I might set for myself could be. But I'm not frustratingly wondering when I'll be able to move on to a different, better career. Hell, when I'm on the job, unless I have something really special planned, I'm not counting down the minutes. I feel good about being there, in the moment, and doing this job, right now.

Yesterday, things kinda blew up between us. There was a part of me that screamed that I should just toss you out on your ass, "ok, it's done. He fucked up in the one way you said that you wouldn't abide. That's his last chance. It's over. Wash your hands of this." And I've said that maybe we should stop working so hard on being friends, that maybe it shouldn't be this hard, numerous times in the past year and a half, over much less serious issues than this. But this time, I just couldn't bring myself to say those words, with really bringing up the possibility that this should be over.

Maybe it was because that seems to let you off too easily. Maybe it was because you seemed so...broken and genuinely sorry. But maybe it's just that I don't want to run anymore. I'm not sure when it happened or how it happened, but I want to face my life. Open arms and open eyes.

None of this is to say that it doesn't hurt, because it really fucking does, or that there shouldn't be consequences and rebuilding after something like this. It isn't even to say that we'll be able to be the kind of friends that we want to be to each other, because I just can't promise that that is possible. I've said numerous times in this blog and in real life that I consider you family, someone that you are there for when they need you, even if the everyday relationship is too fucked up to do. But there have been many rather benign times in the past when being there for family was something I forced myself to do, when what I really wanted to do, what I did as soon as I got the chance to do, was run. Things don't feel like that anymore.

My heart's in pieces so please understand, I'm trying to jump, but I've nowhere to land. So give me your heart and I'll give you my hand and try as goddamn hard as I can. The hill I'm walking up is getting good and steep but I'm still looking for a promise even I [can] keep. 

That Wasn't Me

I remember when I was 18 and Moneypenny was trying to convince me to take meds for my depression. My biggest fear was that I wouldn't be me anymore. I had spent all my life feeling like I had. I thought that how I felt was just me. Six weeks later, when the meds finally hit, it was kinda the same feeling that I had when I got my first pair of glasses. I hadn't realized how blurry everything had been before. Each time I get a new med that works better, things come into focus more. That doesn't mean that everything is peachy-keen. It doesn't mean that all, or any, of my flaws have disappeared. It just brings a bit more clarity, a bit more control over and space between me and my emotions.

When you're dealing with mental illness, trying to become a better person, learning that your bad behavior was a result of a larger pattern in your mental illness that you can and should break, it's tough to figure out what was you and what wasn't. It's also difficult to explain, not just to others but also to yourself, that while you did what you did in the mental illness you still need to own it, make amends, and change. I often compare it to addiction. An addict has a disease that they need treatment for. Much of their personality and actions change. When they are in recovery, they are closer to who they are, but that doesn't mean that they didn't do what they did before, it doesn't absolve them of guilt. It means that they need to make amends, make positive changes in their life, and continue to manage their disease. I do too. I know I did more shitty things when I was more unwell than I do today. (I still do shitty things. We all do.) But I have to keep making an effort to put my actions in line with the person I think I am and then with the person I want to be.

This song really hits home on that and I hope that my loved ones know that wasn't me.


Hang on, just hang on for a minute
I've got something to say
I'm not asking you to move on or forget it
But these are better days
To be wrong all along and admit it's not amazing grace
But to be loved like a song you remember
Even when you've changed

Tell me did I go on a tangent?
Did I lie through my teeth?
Did I cause you to stumble on your feet?
Did I bring shame on my family?
Did it show when I was weak?
Whatever you see, that wasn't me
That wasn't me, that wasn't me

When you're lost you will toss every lucky coin you'll ever trust
And you will hide from your god like he never turns his back on us
And you will fall all the way to the bottom and land on your own knife
But you'll learn who you are even if it doesn't take your life

Tell me 
Did I go on a tangent?
Did I lie through my teeth?
Did I cause you to stumble on your feet?
Did I bring shame on my family?
Did it show when I was weak?
Whatever you see, that wasn't me
That wasn't me, that wasn't me

But I want you to know that you'll never alone
I wanna believe 


Do I make myself a blessing to everyone I meet
When you fall I will get you on your feet
Do I spend time with my family?
Does it show when I am weak?
When that's what you see, that will be me
That will be me, that will be me
That will be me

Can't you just pretend?

Most of the time, I can accept and deal with the fact that I don't believe what most other people believe and that I'm interested in things that most of my other friends aren't. And I don't want to live unchallenged. But sometimes, especially when I'm really excited about something, I really wish that I could get someone else to at least pretend to be excited about it. Or at the very least not be determined to pick apart every godsdamn thing. Can't you people let me enjoy anything without telling me how wrong I am?

I know it's contrary to most of the other thinks I say, but... I'm just so frustrated with everyone shooting down everything I get excited about lately. It just makes me not want to share anything. Maybe I should choose friends who aren't competitive at all, but I end up feeling like all that really matters is that they are right, not that I want share something I think is really cool or fun or interesting. I'm used to disinterest, which is what I usually get, but lately all I've gotten is everyone trying to tear it down.

I'd like to say that I think I'm just going to not talk for awhile, but we all know that isn't true.

In Defense of Damaged, Crazy, or Insane

It seems like people are always doing awful things. Each time they do, everyone else searches for the reason(s) why. The farther out of your own realm of experience, the farther what that person did from what you feel you could possibly do, the easier it is to see them as an "other," talk about them as the "other," as someone completely foreign to you and the world you live in. While I understand this impulse, feel it myself in many situations, I feel myself wanting to scream out about just how hurtful this can be to the "other" who isn't an other, to the people you know and love who might also be different in the way that you're dismissing the "other" as being.

After the murders in Aurora, CO, there has been a vacuum as to the motives behind why this killer did this, which I have heard many fill with the words damaged, crazy, or insane. Few that I've read use these words are interested in exploring these issues further, but instead use it in a dismissive way. "Why are we asking any questions about why he might have done this? Clearly he is damaged/crazy/insane." That's it. The story ends there for them. To me, it also seems to imply that the arrow works both ways. Not only did he do these things because he is damaged/crazy/insane/whatever word they chose, but people who are damaged/crazy/insane/etc do things like this, so what can you do? Let's all just throw our hands up and say that it's got nothing to do with me. But that implication hurts people like me, people like those that I know and love, people that I'm sure are present in everyone's lives, people who are damaged or crazy or insane. And, yes, if you read this (or any of my blog posts for that matter), thinking that it sounds like I'm angry, that's because I am. Nothing wrong with a bit of anger now then. Dismissing me because of my tone also means erasing my voice, my experience, my life. 

So I'm going to try to take things one by one. Let's look at "damaged." I read someone in the rather civil comment thread to this post say that the shooter was "clearly mentally and emotionally damaged, and almost assuredly was born that way" Asserting that someone was damaged from birth makes me ask if this damage is something that can be tested for, if this damage always leads to violent behavior like this, and, if so, what the commenter thinks society should do with people who test positive for this kind of "damage." I think that the more common use of the term "damaged" to describe someone who has committed an atrocity like this is that the trauma they have experienced in life has had such a profound effect that they are, if not broken, then severely impaired, in a way that leads them to commit these acts. So, the short of it is "people get fucked up when bad shit happens to them." Alright. That's true. If bad shit didn't happen to these people, they probably wouldn't have done these things. But bad shit happens to everyone. Some people get out mostly unscathed. Some people develop mental health issues as a result of that bad shit, especially when combined with "damage" they were born with. I've met many people when I was hospitalized and  people in my group therapy who have all had bad shit happen to them and been fucked up by it. I think that most of us would be insulted if you implied that we'd ever do something like what happened in Aurora. I also think that those people's loved ones would argue with you if you said that they would do something like this because of the trauma they've suffered. So where do you draw the line between what bad shit or the extent of the bad shit that happens and when you automatically commit mass homicide? And how much does that allow you to not attempt to deal with the person or the trauma they've been through, because, well, the damage is done?

Before I go into talking about the "crazy" label, I want to jump forward to quickly cover the "insane" label. Insanity is no longer in scientific or mental use, but is only legal terminology, referring to a person cannot tell right from wrong, or fantasy from reality. The perpetrator may very well have been insane, but very few mentally ill people who commit crimes are eligible for an insanity defense, as most mentally ill people still know right from wrong. I know that for most people it is impossible to think believe that someone who knows right from wrong could do something like this, but there is often an internal logic to the perpetrator which precludes an insanity ruling. Of course, most of the time when a person uses the term "insane," they aren't referring to legal terminology at all.

Closely related to both "damaged" and "insane," in fact what I think many people mean when they use those words to describe someone, is mentally ill or crazy. (I've written before about my own ambivalence about the current way that mental illness is treated, as well as the ways others are trying to reframe it. And, personally, I often use "crazy" to describe myself and behaviors that are closely linked to how my mental illness is exhibited, but I think of it as more of a reclaimed word than the word I think should be used by the general public.) The NAMI website states: "Mental illnesses are medical conditions that disrupt a person's thinking, feeling, mood, ability to relate to others and daily functioning." I think that it is safe to say that at least a few of those things would seem to be true of the anyone who did something like this, but, even if mental illness is an underlying reason, it is unfair to paint the whole of mentally ill people with that brush. Mental illness is such an overarching term for a wide variety of diagnoses which means that it includes a multitude of individuals who are just trying to live their lives the best they can. The majority of schizophrenics are not the homeless man, mumbling to himself. The majority of bipolar people aren't...well, whatever stereotype people have for us, especially after there's a widely publicized crime perpetrated by someone who has been diagnosed as bipolar. You get the picture. This erases the way that the majority of people experience mental illness, the majority of whom are law-abiding upstanding citizens. During my hospitalizations and experiences in treatment, I don't think I've ever met a felon. If my fellow patients had committed any crimes, even those in the hospital that was used by the cops as a dumping place for people that they picked up off the street but had dubious grounds or not enough room to hold in jail, they were misdemeanors- property destruction, petty theft, drug use, getting into fights- not causing serious premeditated harm to others. Even then, it is few and far between. I think that most of the people I've met during hospitalizations or in group therapy would be offended by the assumption that they are criminals as a result of their mental illness. 

Another big problem with dismissing the perpetrator as mentally ill is that it dismisses the idea that something more could be done to help mentally ill people, particularly this person. I think that there is a debate to be had about the benefits of long-term (often involuntary) in-patient (including commitment) treatment versus outpatient treatment, but currently those are both options that are proving too costly for most people, families, and even communities, especially in this economic downturn. As was pointed out after a mentally-ill man, who's family said that they "could see this coming," opened fire in Seattle's Cafe Racer in May, killing six, most community-based outpatient mental health providers are severely understaffed and overworked, which is only getting worse as states budgets are getting trimmed more and more each year. I would also add that the increased difficulty in getting someone involuntarily committed, which I see as good on many levels, means that there is less funding "needed" for those facilities, which results in fewer of them as well as poorer conditions in the ones that do exist. What do you think that means for the people who want to be voluntarily hospitalized, who know that they need the security and intensity of inpatient care during a particularly bad period or during a medication change? 

In my experience, it's difficult for many people to even get the mental health equivalent of a drug rehab program. Even though my family wanted me to do it shortly after my original diagnosis, there was no local facilities for that kind of treatment and it was hit or miss whether our health insurance would cover it. I know a family that had to liquidate their 401k so that one parent/spouse could get 90-day inpatient treatment and the only facility is over ten hours away. As for community-based outpatient treatment, I obtained services from our county's mental health facilities for over a year, both prescriptions for my medications as well as once monthly talk-therapy, for a very reasonable, sliding-scale fee. Through school and then my husband, I had medical insurance, and started treatment with a psychiatrist that had treated me during a hospitalization. Even when I no longer had health insurance, my family ultimately decided that it was worth it to pay for a psychiatrist that I could get an appointment to see within two business days if I had problems with my medications, as opposed to the very caring nurse practitioner at the county facility, who I had to wait a month to see when I had an emergency with my medication and who was mostly just happy when I was still taking my medication as prescribed. Last summer and fall, when I realized that things weren't getting any better with time after my uncle's passing, my parents decided that it was worth it to pay out-of-pocket for my intensive DBT therapy, instead of me going back to our county mental health facility for my on-going treatment. It was a tough choice but one I'm glad they made, glad we currently have the resources to make. 

So, using "he's crazy" as a dismissal of the motivations of this perpetrator erases all debate about the current state of mental health care in this country, as well as the hard work of so many people who are dealing with and seeking treatment for their mental health concerns in that system. It also perpetuates the stigma of mental illness, which can be a stumbling block to seeking or continuing treatment. Before you use "crazy" as a dismissal, think of the mentally ill people you know, or just those dealing with mental health issues that will affect most humans at some point in their life (grieving, mild depression, trauma, etc), and if you think that their "crazy" means that you think they will, or even could, do what this man did. And, if you think it's possible, ask yourself if you're willing to keep dismissing the possibility until you instead find yourself dismissing their actions. 

I don't claim to have any answers about why the perpetrator did this, but I don't think that those answers will ever be as simple as "he's damaged/insane/crazy," even if those things did play a role. It may seem easier to write these events off this way, but never very accurate. Only even mentioning being damaged or crazy in the context of criminal behavior means that it's the only picture of mental illness that you are acknowledging exists, even while your mentally ill loved one is right there. 

Mon Parrain's Definition of Sex

Emotional and [or] physical surrender of one or both parties of that which they identify themselves as the center of their sexuality.


In a previous post, I wrote about the difficulties of only calling penis in vagina (PIV) sexual intercourse, and sometime anal intercourse, sex. If "So did you have sex with/fuck/sleep with/get laid by him/her?" only means PIV sex, then it seems to render "less than" a good deal of the very sexual acts that I've done, as well as erasing quite a few of the partners that I did it with from the notches in my bed post. In writing that post, I was making public that what I felt was sex was much bigger than just PIV sex. 


But with new partners come new disclosures. Though I did tell a new potential partner the number he asked for, which was the number of men I have had penetrative sex with, I did also tell him that I didn't think that was my real "number," that my real number was quite a bit higher because it included much more than just penetrative sex with men. To his credit, he didn't say that those other notches didn't count generally, just that he didn't find them pertinent to what he was using the number to evaluate. 


After looking back at my little black book for the numbers, I had made some observations that I shared by texted Mon Parrain. Now, he tends to go for long periods of time and only pop his head up when he's both bored and I've texted something quite interesting to him. This seemed quite interesting to him. 


I found his thoughts on "what counts" quite interesting. Here is an excerpted bit of our conversation:


MP: Lol...No, that people with no dicks, or those who do not identify their dicks with their sexuality, are just as capable of fucking...
...
MP: And being fucked.
...
MP: Sex has nothing to do with penetration, even when there is a cock (or substitute cock)
Me: only orgasm?
MP: Nope...
Me: Then what?
MP: Emotional and physical surrender of one or both parties of that which they identify themselves as the center of their sexuality.
MP: For a masochist, it might not even involve genitals...
MP: If the surrender is there, for me its sex.
MP: There is no reason to force gender or physio normative standards.
Me: Can I put that def on my blog? I think of the bdsm play I did with [name redacted, person 1] as sex, though I'm not sure either of us orgasmed and there was rarely any penetration or "sex." He is a number for me, though I also know the PIV # and oral included # 
MP: Sure...you can even attribute it to me. 
Me: I don't plagiarize. Of course I'd cite my source.
MP: A m to f transgendered person can have sex despite the fact that she has a penis without having to be penetrated herself can't she?
Me:  I totally agree.
Me: And a f to m without penetration.
MP: Exactly... Although that is his choice.
MP: His only self identification with his own sexuality may dictate that he can't surrender his own sexuality to someone until he can penetrate.
MP: So its a tricky number to calculate.
Me: I thought it bad manners to push too much on how pointless I think PIV # is with this [new partner].  
MP: You may well have had sex with someone who didn't know that he/she was having sex with you.
Me: Quite possible.
MP: Ahhh but you miss the point. 
Me: He sees that as the only way to surrender?
MP: As a sub, its vital that you embrace his identity in your sexuality, at least in the moment. 
MP: So if he is heteronormative, then that's the number that matters if he is to connect with you.
MP: It's an insult to his sexuality to deny him the opportunity to feel that way.
MP: In an ideal world, he would tacitly acknowledge the same about you.
MP: But an ideal dom is hard to find.
Me: So what about [name redacted, person 2]? He sees PIV as the only thing he will call sex. He's done the rest, but not sex to him. BUT he does think the rest counts, even kissing.
MP: I see no harm in allowing [person 2] his personal definition
MP: And that he can only choose the center of his own sexuality. 
Me: I find sleeping in the same bed as him to be sex, more intimate than other "sex" acts. 
MP: Exactly.... I agree that sex with one partner may be very different than another partner with the same sex and gender.
Me: I try not to push on him what I think is sex, but I'm not going to change it for me.
MP: It's not the act, but the state of mind that surrounds the act.
MP: Any other definition denies that one who is unwillingly raped, does not have sex.
MP: And that it is possible to be raped regardless of penetration.
MP: Rape is the forceful taking from another that which they identify as sex when given to another.
...(While he and I talk about some other stuff, this is probably a good time to interject something for the new readers out there. I'm not good with secrets, mine or anybody else's. If you've heard me tell you something private about someone, you can probably guess that I've told them something of that same level of privacy about you. If you've seen me write something about someone else on this blog, I will probably write something of the same level of privacy about you on this blog. That's another reason why I use pseudonyms, so when someone searches "Mike Smith" to find about you, what I've written about you in this blog won't pop up. If/When I write my book, I'm sure some aspect of you, good or bad, will be made a part of some character in it. I would say I'm sorry, but, if I thought I was going to be sorry about it, I wouldn't do it in the first place, now would I? Mostly, you've been warned. Now we'll resume a little later in the conversation, with a last little bit of ego stroking.)
MP: You know, maybe the world would be a better place if sexually interesting people like us took a vow.
Me: What vow would that be? 
MP: Never have sex with someone who doesn't understand the spectrum of sex and gender. MP: Hold out until the world becomes enlightened. 




So, what do you think about this definition of sex provided by MP? Do you find it too broad and not based enough in the physical, bodily realities of what we intuit sex to be? Or do my "vanilla" readers disagree with the idea that sex is about surrender, rather than specific acts? As always, please comment!

So My Therapist Says, Vol. 3, Monogamy Edition

The idea of monogamy hasn't so much been tried and found wanting, as found difficult and left untried. - G. K. Chesterton


I should start off by saying that I am aware that my therapist's job isn't to be my friend or my yes person. Those of us who go to a mental health professional do so because we feel there is something wrong. Especially when dealing with people with bpd, therapists often have to point out to a client that the way they see the world not only isn't the way that most other people see it, but it also hasn't been very effective for them in the past. On the other hand, therapists have grown up and lived in the larger mainstream culture, just like the rest of us. For example, it wasn't until 1973 that homosexuality was removed as a mental illness from the DSM. I don't think that all the mental health professionals before 1973 who treated homosexuality as something that people needed to be cured from or treated for were stupid or wanted to do harm. I think they lived in a society that believed that. I also think that they also treated gay people who displayed a number of mental illness and addictions and thought that their sexuality was the cause of those of those problems, instead of those problems being a result of being gay in an intolerant society. I guess what I'm trying to get at is that I understand that my therapist is trying to open up my eyes to a more effective and healthy way of looking at and living in this world, but I think that she is still of this world with all of it's assumptions about what effective and healthy look like.

But this isn't just about stuff my therapist says. It actually started the day before my last therapy session, when I went to see my psychiatrist. To her great credit, her medication check-up sessions are 30 minutes and she often talks to me even longer than that. At this meeting, after we talked about my medications and a few other issues with the bipolar, she complimented me on my rainbow gay pride bracelet and she asked me a question that will be familiar to any bisexual person, "So do you date both men and women at the same time? How does that work?" I explained that many bi people are monogamous within their relationships but their next relationship could be with a man or a woman. I also said that I preferred non-monogamous relationships, though not because I am bisexual. While she was both respectful and genuinely curious about how I felt on this, I knew she probably did not agree. At one point, she asked me, "Do you think that now that you're using the [DBT] skills, that things are going better, your self-respect will increase and you'll start to think that you deserve a monogamous relationship?" I was pretty stunned, too stunned to really explain that I've never preferred non-monogamous relationships because I didn't respect myself. Instead, I talked about the book I've been reading, Sex at Dawn, which uses sociology and evolutionary psychology to question modern assumptions about marriage, monogamy, and human sexuality. I'll explain farther down what I wish I could have explained to her, but first let me get to my conversation with my therapist.

Yesterday, I had my individual therapy session. We ended up talked a good deal more about my developing relationship with a sexual dominant. We'll call him Dom Chaney here. He's in a non-monogamous marriage and, if he and I did begin a physical relationship, it would be his secondary relationship. I've known this since the beginning and am perfectly fine with that. At this point, I want someone I am sexually compatible with and I think that having a serious LTRPR (long-term romantic primary relationship) would be a trial by fire at this point for all my new skills. So, this is fine. Not surprisingly, my therapist questioned me a great deal on this. She started out by saying that she is coming, in large part, from being a therapist who sees couples everyday and she's never, professionally or otherwise, seen a non-monogamous couple who were both equally happy for very long with a non-monogamous relationship. I really wish I had been quick enough on my feet at this point to tell her that is because the couples that are happy with their non-monogamy don't need to see a counselor, and that there is too much stigma for most people to come out as non-monogamous to their friends or family, but I didn't. She also asserted that she wanted to see me in a happy relationship with someone I'm in love with where I can get 100% of what I needed [sexually]. I did interject here to tell her that I see no reason why I can't be in a happy relationship with someone that I love that isn't monogamous, as well as that I think it's unrealistic to expect that you will get 100% of what you need from anyone, sexually or otherwise, whether or not you chose for that relationship to be monogamous or not. Also, it's way to much pressure to be expected to be someone else's 100%. She did not seem swayed by this argument. She also went on to speculate both that no-strings attached sex was unhealthy and that there's a danger of becoming too involved emotionally when in a friends with benefits situation, which seems to  leave sex in a long-term relationship as the only possible healthy option.

I know that I will probably never change most people's minds. But I'm writing this for myself, so that I can put how I feel about monogamy and non-monogamy onto paper in a comprehensive manner for use in the next conversation I have about this, so that I don't regret all the things I didn't say in the conversation.

In addition to my own experiences, I think that the biggest contributor to my non-monogamous ideals, before reading Sex at Dawn, has been reading Dan Savage's advice column since I was a teenager. Through the years, he has answered many letters from people who are in long-term relationships with people they truly love, who they have built a life and a family with, but, for a variety of reasons, are not sexually compatible with. Sometimes this has happened because they were not honest about their kinks, with their partners or even sometimes with themselves, before the became committed. Sometimes it is just being with someone for so long and the waning of sexual interest. Whatever the reason, Savage discourages cheating, which, when found out, will almost always be much more hurtful than the current situation. He usually does suggest that the person talk to their partner about non-monogamous options. In a NYT article from last year, Mark Oppenheimer explores Savages views about monogamy, including that it is to everyone's detriment to ignore that it is often much more difficult that we are led to believe and:

“Given the rates of infidelity, people who get married should have to swear a blood oath that if it’s violated, as traumatic as that would be, the greater good is the relationship,” Savage told me. “The greater good is the home created for children. If there are children present, they’ll get past it. The cultural expectation should be if there’s infidelity, the marriage is more important than fidelity.”

For me, reading Savage's columns all these years, as well as reading his books and articles about him, opened my eyes to the idea that long-term partnerships are much more about the stability they provide, not just for children, if there are any, but also for the people inside them, than to be the end-all-be-all relationship in your life.


Before I wrote this blog post, I asked a few of the non-monogamous people I know to give what their answers are to the questions asked and concerns raised by my psychiatrist and therapist. Dom Chaney just explained how he and his wife had gotten to this moment in time. Without quoting him directly, my sense is that within their almost two decades long marriage, they opened up to each other about things that they wanted to explore and found ways to make that happen, both together and apart. This is something that I've run across several times in speaking with older people in long marriages. Not so much that their marriage needed "spicing up," but that either one or both partners had desires that had been left unexplored when they made the choice to marry, to not let this very special person slip away for wont of the road untaken, but at some later date they were able to be honest about those desires and their partner was either turned on by the idea as well, or accommodating enough to let them explore that. For TyRoy, it seems to be a combination of not wanting the obsessive love that requires one person to be everything to you sexually as well as a sense of sexual adventurousness. I would also venture to guess that he avoids people who require monogamy because of past bad experiences. Of course, I only obtained the opinions of men before I did this and mainstream culture believes that men and women do not think the same way about sex. I'd be curious to hear the opinions of any women who are in or who prefer non-monogamous relationships.


As for me, coming to non-monogamy was it's own journey. Like most people, I thought that monogamous relationships were the only way to go. I also bought into the romcom ideal of one's romantic partner being the ultimate relationship in their life, that if that person wasn't 100% of everything to you there was something wrong, that sexual infidelity was the ultimate betrayal and reason to end a relationship. When I was in monogamous relationships, I was possessive, crazy jealous, and checking up on my partner all the time, as well as scared as hell to completely reveal my own sexual desires because I might lose them, which would have been a disaster in my eyes. But being up my partners' asses all the time didn't help the relationship. They often felt the need to be secretive and lie, while still continuing the relationship, both out of fear for what new crazy would develop at the time of break-up. In addition to this, these "monogamous" relationships were never monogamous in practice. I cheated in all of them and I now know that most of my partners did as well.


When I was about 25, feeling like I'd missed out on all the sex I should have been having in new ways and with new people, exploring first dating and fucking non-exclusively and then exploring more committed but open relationships, I started to feel free from all that crazy codependent shit. I found that when my partners didn't feel like they would definitely lose me by being honest about their desires and actions with other people, I could trust them more and be that crazy jealous person less. I also felt more cared about when they still kept coming back to me, in spite of the fact that they could be with someone else. I also found that I didn't necessarily have to sacrifice being cared for or even loved just because the relationship was non-monogamous. Yes, there were times when I just had sex because I just wanted to have sex. But more often than not, I had friendships or romances with these people. Some of them I still do. Just as I didn't care less for them because I couldn't get all my need fulfilled by them, I don't feel like they cared less for me. Also, just because I would be open to developing a long-term partnership with one of these "friends with benefits," I don't feel like I have to do that or that I'm losing out when that is not the direction it takes. I still value the sexual and romantic time I had with TyRoy and I do not feel like that is diminished by the fact that he and I did not get married. I also don't love him less (love, not in love) or feel that he loves me less just because he loves and is in love with is current girlfriend. It does not have to be a zero-sum game.

I will stipulate that this does not mean that things have always gone perfectly, that I haven't overreacted to perceived (or actual) non-honesty. It doesn't mean that my sex partners have always been honest. Ultimately, the thing that ended my marriage was that my husband wanted to be monogamously committed to another woman, though it was not someone he started a relationship with open and honestly while in our marriage, but a woman who he loved before he ever met me who had finally become single herself. It seems like that could happen whether one is in a monogamous relationship or not. But, overall, I have found negotiated and open nonmonogamy to be the best way for me to negotiate the jealousy and codependency that I had in previous romantic relationships.

Dom Chaney asked me the other night what I thought my preferred non-monogamous long-term relationships to look like. Though I was less committal when I answered him than I am now, I think I'd rather have a monogamish situation, than a truly poly relationship. I want someone in an everyday relationship, every night in my bed, to be my partner. If that person and I were highly sexually compatible, which would include him being sexually dominant and me meeting whatever kink he had, I imagine we would have small dalliances outside of our relationship, but not necessarily anything long-term and on-going outside. If either of us had a kink that we couldn't get met in our relationship, I imagine we would have on-going relationships outside for the purpose of getting that need met. Either way, I think that the biggest components for me would be honesty and honest communication. I'm not as worried that my partner has needs that I don't or can't meet, as long as they express that. I'm not as worried about my partner having sex with someone else as I am about them not telling me about it. I'm not any more worried that my partner will leave me for someone else because they were allowed to have sex with them than I would be if we were monogamous and they weren't. And I do not begrudgingly agree to non-monogamous situations because I don't feel like I deserve all of the love and attention of one person. Maybe I do it because I think we all deserve to be honest about wanting love or attention or sex or kinky play from more than just our primary partner and to be honest about the fact that many, if not most, of our romantic partnerships are not monogamous in practice.

While I'll get to the rest of the things I think we should be more honest about when it comes to monogamy and human sexuality when I finish Sex at Dawn and write a blog post about it, I want to leave you with a few quotes from it:

"Monogamy is not found in any social, group-living primate except-if the standard narrative is to be believed-us." p 64

"Think about that. No group-living nonhuman primate is monogamous, and adultery has been documented in every human culture studied-including those in which fornicators are routinely stoned to death. In light of all this bloody retribution, it's hard to see how monogamy comes "naturally" to our species. Why would so many risk their reputations, families, careers-even presidential legacies-for something that runs against human nature? Were monogamy an ancient, evolved trait characteristic of our species, as the standard narrative insists, these ubiquitous transgressions would be infrequent and such horrible enforcement unnecessary." p 98  

Emptiness

As I drove away, headed back home, I felt a great emptiness rising up inside me, one I hadn't felt in some time.

I had spent the day in one-on-one contact with other people, people that are new to my life, that I am still getting to know. But when I transitioned from their presence back to my solitude, I was left empty.

Suddenly, all my life felt rather empty. Boredom is not something I have felt very often lately. There is always something more to do. I have lists and lists and lists of things I could do. Some of my time is spent simply avoiding the the things on the lists that I have to do. I know that the lists will never be finished and I bounce between pushing too hard to get as much as possible of the lists done and then giving up what seems an overall futile task.

All along in my now air-conditioned car, with the windows rolled up tight, I was lonely. I wonder how often I am lonely but do not realize it because I fill my time up with so much other stuff, because I do not let the alone-ness sink in long enough for me to ask myself if I am also lonely.

Last weekend, Moneypenny was visited. We spent almost every waking minute together, as well as some sleeping moments. I felt so comforted to have him with me, someone who knew me, someone I didn't really have to try for. It is the same feeling I have when TyRoy visits, though our visits are often shorter. There are so many people and groups of people around who I can still feel both alone and lonely, but not them. But what is better about Moneypenny and TyRoy is that even after they leave, I still feel sated. Maybe not overflowing, but satisfied. (And I don't mean that in a sexual way, or at least not only in a sexual way.) I'm never happy to see them leave, but I'm happy that I got the time I got with them. Where seeing or talking to most people is a chore, even if they are people I like, or love, or am excited about getting to know better, my relationships with these two men, even when they aren't sexual, have that extra something. I still get butterflies just talking to Moneypenny on the phone about how our week has been going. I get warm and smiley, like a good wine buzz, as I read TyRoy's daily email.

This isn't to say that there is anything wrong with any of my other friends, including the two I spent time with today. It isn't to say that I won't someday feel that towards either of these friends, or other friends currently in my life. But I long for that heat, that pull to and fire with another person. (I was about to add ",even if it's only in a platonic way," but who am I really kidding? Even when I feel that pull with people that I can only have a platonic relationship with, I don't think it is ever a platonic feeling for me. There is always some romantic and/or sexual longing wrapped up in it, even if that will never be fulfilled. I don't want my friends who clearly aren't interested romantically or sexually in me, whether because they're gay men, straight women, or just not attracted to me, to think I'm only interested in sexin' them up, because I'm not, that's not what I mean.) I know that it isn't something you can have with everyone. I"m also sure that feeling empty unless I'm being consumed is a very bpd thing, that most of the times that I do feel that intensity there is actually something either wrong with me, with the other person, or the way we interact, but I haven't gotten to a place of wise mind on this yet. Rational mind says all the parts of that last sentence before the "but" and emotional mind yearns for more of those relationships. There is no happy medium as yet.

So I keep working on things on the list, to the point of avoiding sleep  just so I don't have to feel that emptiness for too long.

All Along The Road

Have you been feeling that pull?
And are you hearing that call?
Cause you've got everthing that you need to make a start...
And I would love it sometime
If you would walk by my side
Going I don't know where to sing beneath the stars...
And when the world's laying you low
Why don't you let me carry your load?
When things get bad you know you'll have a friend
All along the road
...And when the world's laying you low,
Don't you let it rattle your bones
Sometimes the dream itself can keep you safe
All along the road

(Video embed might be too wide for the blog and you might not be able to see all the lyrics. If you want to go to a link to see all of it, a slightly more visually interesting video is here, and it has lyrics if you hit the CC button.)

In life, you can miss much if you're too dogmatic about anything.

In my DBT class, we don't just learn one skill for one sort of problem, because nothing will work well for every person or even for every person in every situation. During the interpersonal skill section, we learn a skill for trying to get what we want, another for trying to keep our respect in a situation, and another focused on keeping the relationship. We also learn way to evaluate which one might be best to use at any given time and with any given problem.

Lately, especially when looking to start new romantic relationships, I've been attempting to avoid relationships that I know will be chaotic. And, in the not too distant past, I've left friendship situations that I know to be particularly chaotic or that create instability in me. But sometimes you can't do that. Or at least I can't. Sometimes it's a relative that drives me up the wall but is part of the little blood I have left and who has done so much for me. Sometimes it's that friend that you keep re-enacting the same chaotic, hurtful patterns with, but who has always been there, all along the road. Sometimes the chaos and craziness is worth having someone, but most especially worth having them. Hell, I wouldn't have any friends if my friends didn't feel that about me.