It's her day off so she's there when I have to leave for work. Even after last night, I'm still too shy to kiss her. But if she is not mine, at least I know that I am hers. And his. And that is enough for now. I sneak into the bedroom to kiss him goodbye and then hug her as long as I can before I must leave their happy little home.
With nothing good on the car stereo, I go for the mp3 player, deciding to play an artist I haven't listened to in a while and a song that reminds me exactly of how I feel when I am driving to the place I am leaving, rushing to see her before she goes to bed in the afternoon or leaves for work at night: Maybe some other time I can't slow down Right across that state line Right about now Her hair's still wet from her bath She's sittin' on the front porch With a glass of iced tea In my sweat shirt and her bare feet This I gotta see If I hurry I can catch The colors on her skin from that sunset And her face and that love waitin' on me This I gotta see, this I gotta see (Jason Aldean, This I Gotta See)
For the past several weeks, my uncle has been riding shotgun when I leave, helping me through my freak-outs about how much I care about the people in this situation I did not plan for. But today I don't need him there. Her sunny face and honest words are enough to soothe my troubled soul. As I turn onto the main road though I kiss the Celtic cross ring that reminds me of my uncle's tattoo, until I can adorn my body similarly. Overhead I see the Daytime Moon, my grandpa watching over me as I drive in my grandma's car. Smiling, I feel bursting with love. I don't know how I could have panicked last night, feeling like no one could possibly love me, a tape left over from a previous life, and am glad I self-soothed until sleep, before bringing my unjustified fears to them and ruining the beauty that was shared.
*****
After work, the car radio blesses me with a favorite song that I haven't heard in a long time, which also fits how I feel right now.
This is the first day of my life I swear I was born right in the doorway I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed They're spreading blankets on the beach Yours is the first face that I saw I think I was blind before I met you Now I don’t know where I am I don’t know where I’ve been But I know where I want to go And so I thought I’d let you know That these things take forever I especially am slow But I realize that I need you And I wondered if I could come home Remember the time you drove all night Just to meet me in the morning And I thought it was strange you said everything changed You felt as if you'd just woke up And you said “this is the first day of my life I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you But now I don’t care I could go anywhere with you And I’d probably be happy” So if you want to be with me With these things there’s no telling We just have to wait and see But I’d rather be working for a paycheck Than waiting to win the lottery Besides maybe this time is different I mean I really think you like me
A few Saturdays ago, when I wrote this, I have to admit that there was also something else that happened on my way to work. My uncle was in the car with me, riding in the passenger seat with me on my way from my night of sex and play to work. Yes, I know how this sounds. And I'm not necessarily saying that it was his ghost or that I actually saw him. Maybe it was just the part of me that came from him that manifested itself in my passenger seat that morning. At the time, I felt like he was there because he didn't want me to feel any emotional dissonance over the really amazing night and how strongly I was feeling for this guy, even though it wasn't the way I had thought things were going to go. I became less sure of that when I found out some news about people in his circle and it stirred up a bunch of feelings about his loss. Now I'm sure it was the former because he showed up again in my car this morning, as I left the same apartment and that same person, after an even longer and more intense time period. When all I wanted to do was to run away, my uncle was sitting there telling me not to run.
In this dating thing, I had some specific ideas about what I wanted and, by gods, I was not going to settle for less. I wanted a primary romantic long-term relationship partner, who was also more dominant in bed, and hopefully who was also into the idea of a monogam-ish relationship. And, somehow, he managed to find me. Just at that wrong time. Someone else also found me, a real Dom in a long-term polyamorous relationship, who seemed more than happy to just play with a fairly inexperienced submissive while she found her white picket fence. Of course, that isn't what happened either. We got along well over lunch and I melted the first time he touched me. Not only has he been a good Dom to me so far, but we get along like gangbusters outside of the sex and the play. And I really like his girlfriend. After my last experience with a couple, I wasn't at all interested in having a triad, or larger poly, relationship. When the option came up with someone else that I really liked, because it would have started different, I thought I might as well at least talk with the other person in the proposed relationship. But I wasn't interested in coming into an established couple. Then I met his girlfriend.
I have only two emotions
Careful fear and dead devotion
I can't get the balance right
Throw my marbles into the fight
Each time I am there, I stay a little longer and things become more intense. I start to have deeper feelings for both of them, though obviously more for him because we are together longer and share a physical relationship. I love being there. I love being with them. How I feel about them, but especially about him, seems completely out of proportion to the short amount of time we've spent together. But they want me back.I text What do you want with me? When I want to own you comes back as a response, I stop breathing. In the dark, he whispers to me that, if things were all the way he wanted, I wouldn't leave there. How can that not be appealing after all the men in my life who tell me how great I am but that they don't want to be with me. Especially when I think he and her are so great.
And this freaks me the fuck out. When I really like someone and they like me back, I rush in head first. Then, the push-pull, fight or flight, only made worse by the borderline, kicks in and I feel the need to poke it with a stick to see if they overcome my push, thereby proving that they really want me.
The temptation
To take the precious things we have apart
To see how they work
Must be resisted for they never fit together again
So there was my uncle, sitting there, telling me not to run, to see this through, despite the situation not being the one that I had originally envisioned, reminding me of all the love he had in his life by accepting what came into it.
There are some things that seem to come completely naturally to some people, but that I can't seem to wrap my head around.
When you're with someone, especially in a new romantic situation, and they seem to be saying the exact right thing, how do you not question if they have just read you well enough to know what will stroke your ego and make you pliable to their will, even though they are secretly laughing at you in their head or behind your back?
Anticipate- Ani DiFranco you are subtle as a window pane standing in my view but I will wait for it to rain so that I can see you you call me up at night when there's no light passing through and you think that I don't understand but I do we don't say everything that we could so that we can say later oh, you misunderstood I hold my cards up close to my chest I say what I have to and I hold back the rest 'cause someone you don't know is someone you don't know get a firm grip, girl before you let go for every hand extended another lies in wait keep your eye on that one anticipate dress down get out there pick a fight with the police we will get it all on film for the new release seems like everyone's an actor or they're an actor's best friend I wonder what was wrong to begin with that they should all have to pretend we lost sight of everything when we have to keep checking our backs I think we should all just smile come clean and relax if there's anything I've learned all these years on my own it's how to find my own way there and how to find my own way back home
It's weird the things that make you feel grown up. Well, it's weird to start with that I'm 30, 31 in 3 days and don't feel like a grown up. But I live in my parents' basement and don't have a full-time job so that contributes quite a bit. Also, felt much more grown up when I was married, even though same living situation, but I was so-and-so's wife. I digress
It's weird the things that make you feel grown up. Leaving someone else's house in the morning makes me feel really grown up. When I was younger, I thought I'd have a slightly different slutty phase than the one I ended up having. One like in the movies or on tv, where you drink a little too much and go home with someone you picked up that night at a bar. Now, to my recollection, I have never done this. What they never tell you is that picking up people in bars is hard unless you have really good game, which I don't. The internet has been the savior of my sex life. Without it, I would be able to count the people I've fucked on my fingers, which, to me, would be very sad. But hooking up with people on the internet is different and happens at all kinds of times that aren't last call. Also, let's be honest, if those people were in a position to attract a potential mate, if they had things like a job or a place of their own, or they were unattached, they probably wouldn't be trolling Craigslist for ass in the first place.
Or maybe they've been more attractive to me because they didn't have the potential for me to be in a long-term relationship with them. Now that I'm looking for something long-term, and I'm ruling out people who can't host, I'm having a different experience. I didn't do it right with Troy. I didn't really plan ahead. I had to go to work the next morning but I didn't bring my get-ready bag or a change of clothes in my car. I also drank way too much and left my own car at the bar. Of course, it still worked out just fine. After a night of too little sleep, I grabbed a quick shower at his place and he drove me back to my car. I even had enough time to change at my own house before I went to work. Still not optimal however.
Neyo lyrics If she leave the club with me Then her maturity Gonna make sure she follow me in her car She's so responsible, she gone make sure She leave in time to get home, get ready for work
I did it better last night. To be fair, this night was slightly more planned. With Troy, I had myself convinced it wasn't going to happen that first night. With (doesn't have a name yet), we had arranged that I would stay the night because that was the only way we'd have time together, with my work schedule. I had a small (for me) duffle bag with what I thought I might need. I had even planned out where I would stop to get a quick sandwich and my morning energy drink on my way to work. And now I'm sitting in a parking lot close to work typing this on my phone, as I have to twenty minutes before my shift starts. And I feel great.
fourteenth street and the garbage swirls like a cyclone three o'clock in the afternoon and I am going home F train is full of high school students so much shouting so much laughter last night's underwear in my back pocket sure sign of the morning after ... maybe I'll live my whole life just getting by maybe I'll be discovered maybe I'll be colonized you could try to train me like a pet you could try to teach me to behave But I'll tell you, if I haven't learned it yet you know, I ain't gonna sit, I ain't gonna stay
Yeah, I don't think I need to add anything else....
Crash My Party - Luke Bryan
It don’t matter what plans I got, I can break ‘em.
Yeah, I can turn this thing around at the next red light
And I don’t mind telling all the guys I can’t meet ‘em.
Hell, we can all go raise some hell on any other night
Girl, I don’t care. Oh I just gotta see what you’re wearing.
Your hair, is it pulled up or falling down?
Oh I just have to see it now.
[Chorus:]
If you wanna call me, call me, call me.
You don’t have to worry ‘bout it baby.
You can wake me up in the dead of the night;
Wreck my plans, baby that’s alright.
This is a drop everything kind of thing.
Swing on by I'll pour you a drink.
The door’s unlocked. I’ll leave on the lights
Baby you can crash my party anytime.
Ain’t a spot downtown that’s rockin’ the way that you rock me. Ain’t a bar that can make me buzz the way that you do.
I could be on the front row of the best show.
And look down and see your face on my phone.
And I’m gone so long, hang on. I’ll meet you in a minute or two.
[Chorus]
If it’s 2 in the morning And you’re feeling lonely And wondering what I’m doing...
[Chorus:] Go ahead and call me, call me, call me You don’t have to worry ‘bout it baby. You can wake me up in the dead of the night; Wreck my plans, baby that’s alright. This is a drop everything kind of thing. Swing on by I'll pour you a drink. The door’s unlocked. I’ll leave on the lights Baby you can crash my party anytime.
People love that cliche, time heals all wounds. But live long enough and you'll realize that most cliches are true. It's amazing what even the smallest passage 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. -Being Human, US The world breaks everyone and afterwards many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry. -A Farewell to Arms, Ernest Hemingway
Several times, he's said that he's broken. On good days, he says he feels like he may be healing, or that he may only be bent, not broken. When I ask him how or why he thinks this, what it is that he finds wrong with himself now, I never really know what to do with his answers. What he describes sounds rather normal for the people I've known in my life, nothing too extreme, especially considering what he's been through in the last year or so. Some of the things, like not really being able to tell when someone is being genuine or when they are actually trying to get something out of you, are how I feel all the time. Hell, they're how I feel about him sometimes. This is not to say that I don't support him being whoever or however he wants to be. I wholeheartedly do. It's just very far from my lived reality and that of most people I know. It also makes me wonder if we would be suited to each other, long-term, if what he thinks of as broken is what I consider normal.
And while I understand how it might feel like being broken for someone in his position, with his life experience, that terminology really gets under my skin. Just like "broken home" or "broken family." While talking to my therapist a few weeks ago, I put the word in air quotes and she insisted "But we are from broken homes." (She's a child of divorce too.) I didn't have words to express how and why I thought she was wrong, why calling my family broken made me angry, but I did and still do.
So I've been thinking quite a bit about being broken the last few days. As is usually the case, I couldn't think of a good response in the moment, but I am trying to develop one now. Maybe he is right that those things he describes are broken-ness and that my therapist is right about me being from a broken home. For the sake of the rest of this post, let's just assume that they are. It's not the kind of broken that occurs when a plate slips through your fingers and shatters on the floor, where no amount of gluing will restore it to it's previous usefulness again. It feels more like a broken bone, where your body can heal it naturally, with time and proper care, though how close it functions to it's previous state will also depend on how well it is re-set.
I looked up bone fractures on Wikipedia. If I'm reading it right, first, you get a blood clot between the fragments, then new blood vessels grow around the clot. The blood vessels bring the collagen which stiffens and becomes the bone matrix. Then a process called remodeling replaces the initial bone matrix with more mature bone. It usually takes about 18 months but is 80% of normal within 3 months in most adults. I can almost picture the blood then collagen then bone filling up the small space of the fracture, making what was a gap now whole again.
So, yes, I've been broken in many places, many times. I will be again. But when my family "broke" under the strain of a cheating and abusive spouse, my grandparents, my uncle, and, a little while later, my step-dad wove the broken places back together. I would not trade the closeness we shared as an extended family for a unbroken nuclear family. The rest of the broken-ness, well, sometimes you don't expect anything to every bridge that gap, to ever bind the pieces back together. Sometimes it doesn't for years and years. And then one day you realize that you can use that arm or leg again, just like a normal person, That years after a traumatizing robbery, you can walk alone to your car or down the street, without your heart racing. That after months of forcing yourself to hang out with friends, you find that you like doing it, that you miss seeing those people when you don't get the chance to for awhile. (Ok, so that comes and goes. The remodeling may have made the bone as strong, but the bone was never really a people person.) That two years after your last big loss, you can sometimes talk about it without even tearing up. Maybe you also find that the bones didn't heal exactly how they used to be, but that you are alright with that. Maybe you even like it better that way, because it reminds you that you'll never be the person you started out as, for better and for worse, though hopefully more for the better than for the worse.
Then again, I've also done some breaking on purpose. Tattoos, piercings, and scars are not how our bodies were originally, but I'm happy with them. In fact, I want more. I don't date how people are supposed to and I disclose too much too soon to everyone. There are a bunch of other things that society at large says that a healthy person doesn't do, but that I do openly and gladly. So I guess I also accepted a long time ago that I am broken, at least by most standards out there. Many times, I heal. I can bring those broken pieces back together and I find the remodeling to be sorta amazing. The rest of the times, I just develop new strategies for dealing with things while broken. Even if that means I'm too broken for most people, once they aren't broken anymore.
Gary Allan- Pieces
I've been broken, torn and scattered
I've loved holy, I've loved sin
I was rolling on the wind
It didn't matter
I was so sure of who I didn't want to be
Every smile and every fear
Every laugh and every tear
It was all mine, it was all me
Chorus:
Pieces of my heart
Pieces of my soul
Pieces that I'm gonna be
I don't even know
I gave a lot to lovers
Gave a lot to friends
Everything I took from them
Made me who I am
Pieces
We've all been lied to We've all been liars Nothing's perfect in this world Everybody's been burned by the fire Guess I'm learning That what breaks you, makes you grow But I'm not hiding where I've been Gonna let the light shine in What I don't need Gonna let that, let that, let that go
Chorus:
Pieces of my heart
Pieces of my soul
Pieces that I'm gonna be
I don't even know
I gave a lot to lovers
Gave a lot to friends
Everything I took from them
Made me who I am
Pieces
Pieces, the good and the bad
Pieces, the happy and sad
Pieces, the wrong and the right
Pieces, that's my, that's my, that's my life
Chorus:
Pieces of my heart
Pieces of my soul
Pieces that I'm gonna be
I don't even know
I gave a lot to lovers
Gave a lot to friends
Everything I took from them
Made me who I am
Pieces
Ok, so things have turned around with the guy I was seeing. The "things in common" part was already there, in spades. But I was worried about the physical, sexual part. I needn't have worried. Though it took longer than I'm used to, once we finally got an open-ended bit of time with privacy, things fell into place. And now he even has his own pseudonym - "Sweetie." It's a Doctor Who joke. He likes it.
No, now the problem is back to being what is usually is - me. All this dating stuff is making me feel crazier than usual. BPD is a disorder of emotional dysregulation, leading to, among other things, unstable interpersonal relationships. I've been doing pretty good, with the therapy and everything. Work is going well. My family relationships are going well. My friendships are mostly going well. But I haven't really had to deal with a 'real' romantic relationship, which are what have given me the biggest opportunity to create a hot mess. So what are some of my biggest problem areas and how am I already creating a hot mess of things?
Disclosure - I think it probably going without saying that I don't really know how to keep anything to myself. I mean, come on, just read this blog. I'm also not so good knowing when is the right time to tell somebody something. Being culturally trained by romantic comedies, I believe that our relationships would all work, or at least get started, if we'd be uber-honest. So I go out on that limb, in case the other person is holding back. Of course, most of the time I end up with my ass flapping in the wind up there all by myself, with the other person thinking that I came on too strong or am going too fast or just generally freaked the fuck out.
Yep, already did this one. Though I was fine with leaving things non-exclusive, non-facebook'd til he was ready the first night we were together, particularly because I was planning on taking advantage of the non-exclusive while I still could. But after therapy and a weird meditation, I felt I shouldn't be taking advantage of the non-exclusivity (more on that later) and, even further, that I wanted to at least "have the talk." And after several drinks, I told him so. Obviously, that didn't go so great. He's still around, but he's not my boyfriend.
Cheating - So all my faithful readers know that I've been less than faithful in past relationships, which is why I started pursuing open relationships. Of course, prefer their LTRRs to be monogamous, so eventually I'm going to run into that problem again. Part of what complicates it even more is that most of my friends are exes and, with some of them at least, being physical in some way, whether that's cuddling while watching tv or sleeping together, is the biggest way I know how to show and receive their caring.
This has already come up as well. After Sweetie said he didn't feel being intimate meant we needed to "have the talk," I brought up my problems with fidelity and that I have bigger problems when it comes to exes. And that Moneypenny is coming into town next weekend and staying with me. Also, that there was a slim possibility TyRoy might need a break from his girlfriend and be coming over this weekend. He seemed fine with it, but he's pretty affable all around. Of course, my therapist had a different take on it and now I feel completely confused about the whole thing. I don't believe that "doing something romantic/sexual with someone else" equals "hurting the primary partner." Of course, a big part of that depends on if you actually hurt your partner. Except he hasn't actually tried to lay claim to that, kinda turned away the offer, and I can't for the life of me get him to answer whether or not it would hurt him if I was with someone else. Maybe he doesn't even know himself, but either way, I can't get him to really say anything. And, despite what my therapist (and everyone else) thinks, I don't really see a good reason to not be romantic or sexual with someone else if it's not hurting anyone.
Taking things slow - I honestly don't even know what this means. Whenever anyone says this, I just think one or both of those people must not like each other very much or very strongly, because if you like each other and strongly, then you'd be spending a bunch of time together and you'd be together. "Taking things slow" just feels like people think there should be arbitrary limits placed on the relationship, no matter what the people in the relationship feel like doing. Also, i always thought that it was sorta assumed that people disappeared for awhile when they got into a relationship. Yes, I do feel like I probably got a bit too lost in the beginning of previous relationships, but I feel like some level of disappearing into the other person is bound to happen.
I've already explained some of the problems I've run into with this. I was frustrated that the physical/sexual part of the relationship took longer than I was used to getting started. I'm now feeling more in the place to "have the talk" because ....well, I feel like I know enough to be in something more settled with him, not what "non-exclusive, non-facebook'd" means to me, while still getting to know him more. I'm also wrestling with trying not to spend too much time together, but we have very little time where we are both free and can hang out together so I naturally want to spend as much of that time as possible having sex with him, er, I mean, hanging out with him and getting to know him. I just feel like I got this shiny new toy and I want to play with him as much as possible when I have the opportunity. I mean, he doesn't even require batteries. But us BPD people tend to get more lost in relationships than most, to the extent of losing ourselves completely, and then when shit gets real we suddenly switch over from thinking the person is amaz-balls to thinking they are the worst person in the history of bad people. I would also be really easy to let everything else I've worked for fall by the wayside to spend more time with someone I really like, but I don't want to lose that progress.
So right now I'm just massively conflicted and most of what I do or want to do is making me feel more crazy and more dysregulated than usual. A part of me misses fucking when I wasn't going to have a LTRR with that person.
In DBT, one of the first concepts you learn about is reasonable, emotional, and wise mind, in the form of this great Venn diagram.
Here is one which explains each state of mind and how they work together. In group, we usually start by talking about what ideas, emotions, and actions we associate with each, the ways that reasonable and emotional mind can be helpful, as ways to demonstrate what is in the diagram below.
Most of us in DBT suffer from being too much in emotional mind. Many of the skills we learn in DBT try to add more reasonable mind skills to the mix, to get us to wise mind. Note that reasonable mind is not the goal. If you ask anybody on the street what state of mind you should be in, almost all of them would tell you "reasonable." Society by and large does not look favorably on the emotional state of mind or those living in it. But being too much in reasonable mind is not good either. It just doesn't cause the same amount of trouble in one's life that being too much in emotional mind does. There are times when you need emotional mind. Like for sex, romance, and falling in love.
So I haven't really done well in the romance department for quite awhile. I guess we could say ever, but let's just go back the last couple of years. While my uncle was sick, TyRoy was my unboyfriend. We did lots of the stuff you do with a significant other whenever I wasn't at my uncle's, but he knew that my family came first and I knew he was leaving soon. After my uncle passed, well, I was a wreck. Therapy helped. I feel like I've really gotten my life back, and back on a track. I feel like I'm doing better with my relationships in general. but the only real romances I've had were ones that were established before the therapy. Basically, it's easy to have romance with exes.
All attempts with new people have not gone great. Knowing that sexual compatibility is really important to me, I searched for that first, hoping the rest would follow, like it did with TyRoy. (Well...That was my thought at least. Now that I think about it, how things started weren't nearly that simple with TyRoy. But I digress.) I didn't really feel much of a spark with any of them though and usually they weren't someone I would want to hang out with either. I had a few dates, but I was so sexually charged that I would rush in to get my rocks off only to realize as soon as I came that I really didn't like them. I've never really dated, don't know how to do that like people do on tv or in Cosmo. I don't have rules about holding back the sexual part of the relationship, but I know that I would like a long-term primary romantic relationship. I miss that. I love getting to have a faux version of that with TyRoy or Moneypenny when I get the chance to visit with them, but they aren't my man and I'm not their woman. I want that and I thought I was ready to test out my wings, my new skills from dbt for a new romantic relationship.
I thought I was ready. Now I'm not so sure.
There aren't many people in any of my circles of acquaintanceship that I find attractive. I wasn't really thinking about finding someone to date within those circles. But recent events had me interacting more with one guy, who I'd known for several months and that I did find attractive. For most of the time I'd known him, he'd had a girlfriend, but I picked up in conversation that they were no longer together. I found out more and more things that we had in common. Because of weather, we haven't had a 'real' date yet, but we have hung out twice in the afternoons. It's been great. I like him. We have a great deal in common that I didn't have with previous people I've dated- weird movies, politics, life experiences. Though we don't have the same or complimentary kinks, we are both open to the other's kinks and sexuality in general. Everything seems great. But very little has happened physically and all of it has been at my initiation, which does the opposite of turn me on. I'm disappointed and worried.
I'm starting to think that maybe you have to be a little crazy to have romance or to fall in love. All I've been trying to do for so long is to steer myself away from the emotional mind, towards the reasonable mind, hoping that I'd land in the center, in wise mind. I can make all the lists of qualities I'd like and turn down the people who are completely out of bounds. I can use reason to decide whether or not someone I'm dating is someone I might want to have a deeper commitment with. But you can't have romance and sex without heart and genitals. And I'm not sure how to get mine back without being like I was. What if I can't?
Or what if my pussy doesn't respond to what my brain does?
That people will have a "slutty" period in their lives, especially when they are experiencing a new-found freedom and just getting their footing, like when moving out of their family home to go to college or when they are just out of a long relationship.
The idea that even good girls (and guys, but mostly girls) will end up doing something (or someone) sexually that they did at the time because they thought that the person involved cared for them, but regret later when they find out that the person was just using them sexually.
To this, let's add something that I've posted here before, several years ago, during my own slutty period:
I've always been one of those people who, theoretically, wanted to experience everything. Growing up surrounded by mostly conservative and reasonable people, I mostly got incredulous, despairing, or at best slightly weird looks from my friends and significant others when I talked about any of the wild things that I wanted to do. The current truth of the matter is that I haven't done half of those things, partly because reason prevailed and partly for want of a partner to do them with.
But the summer that everyone started to get sick, though maybe out of the desperation felt from my family situation, I did as many wild things as I could make myself do, though mostly in the sexual realm. I had spent the year before that summer timidly exploring my bdsm sexual interests which I had tried to turn off for the five years previously, when I was in a relationship with someone who made it clear that there must be something wrong with me for wanting to do anything of the kind. While I also hooked-up a few times with a secretive douche of a "nice guy," I was still in "sex is for relationships only" mode and not very confident about my sexuality or my body. But I'd lost quite a bit of weight over that year and, with some help, emerged from my cocoon that summer. It probably also helped my confidence that my orgasm switch got flicked early that summer.
I decided to use the above flowchart to guide my choices. Honestly, I don't really regret anything I did and I don't think that the choices I made or the things I did were all that bad, with maybe one exception, though it certainly wasn't any of the hook-ups with strangers. (Yes, if you're reading this and wondering if I mean you, I probably do.) But I did do plenty of things that weren't really all that fun for me. Though most men that I hooked up with were pretty vanilla, I did tons of stuff that wasn't really my cup of tea, for the orgasms that would come with the sex I was hoping would happen eventually and the sense of adventure that I felt. (Yeah, I know, bdsm stuff doesn't squee me out but someone who wants to make out in their car and have me flash a little boob seems really weird.) But I did it, right? That's what you do, isn't it? Despite feeling good enough about my body to show it to strangers, I still felt that, if someone is willing to ignore your weight and imperfections and that you live at home and don't have a job, then you do lots of weird things that they want you to do. What, you mean that's not how it is supposed to work?
So, why am I telling you this?
Though it's taken me almost a full month to write about it, this recent episode of Girls really struck a chord with me. It aired on February 10th and was called One Man's Trash. Now, I know there are many detractors of this show, and I acknowledge many of the points made. In fact, I didn't watch the first season of the show when it aired, despite all of the critical acclaim, because of the criticisms. But when I watched it, I could relate. In the February 8, 2013, Entertainment Weekly article about Lena Dunham, the creator of Girls, who also stars as the main character Hannah, Melissa Maerz wrote, "People watched Carrie Bradshaw and thought, 'I want to be her!' People watch Hannah and think, 'Oh my God. I used to be her.' Or worse: 'Oh my God, I am her.'" When I watch Girls, I think, "Yeah, I am working really hard on not being her, but sometimes I still am."
Anyway, in this episode, a handsome neighbor to the coffeeshop where Hannah works comes in to complain about the coffeeshop putting their trash in his cans. Though the manager denies it and has an argument with the man, later Hannah follows him to admit that she did it and explain why. In what one recap writer calls a "classic bold-absurd Hannah move," she kisses him and they quickly start to have sex. Played by Patrick Wilson, he is a 42 year old doctor, named Joshua (don't call him Josh), who renovated this beautiful brownstone and is in the process of divorcing his wife who left him because she doesn't like the city. (As opposed to Hannah's 24 year old who has been cut off by her parents, thinks she might be the voice of her generation, and wants to be a writer, but isn't, as of the start of this episode, doing much about it.) When she goes to leave that night because, according to her, that's when you give people their space, he asks her to stay. He takes off work the next day to spend with her. They are shot in soft light and Hannah lounges around either naked or in clothes of his that, like his house, are neutral shades of gray and brown and white. I think this is the most mainstream-tv attractive Hannah has looked in the whole show, both in terms of her presentation and how it is shot. Dr. Joshua even has a little terrace where they both sit and languidly read the paper. It seems so idyllic and the music reinforces that feeling. But after Dr Joshua saves Hannah after she faints from the steam in his huge shower, she starts crying and goes into confession mode (emphasis and transcribing is mine):
"You said nothing. Honestly you didn't say anything or do anything besides just be so great and perfect and ...Please don't tell anyone this, but I want to be happy. [Joshua: Of course you do. Everyone does.] Yeah, but I didn't think that I did. I made a promise such a long time ago that I was going to take in experiences, all of them, so that I could tell other people about them, and maybe save them, but it gets so tiring- trying to take in all the experiences for everyone, letting everyone say anything to me. And then I came here and I see you. And you've got the fruit in the bowl and the fridge and the stuff and I realize that I'm not different. I want what everyone wants. I want what they all want. I want all the things. I just want to be happy. [Hannah sobs.]
And there's all these experiences that I just feel like I've asked for. Things like who in their right mind would want that. You know, like one time I asked someone to punch me in the chest and then come on that spot. Like that was my idea, that came from my brain. And it's like, what makes me think that I deserve that? [...] I think what I didn't realize before I met you was that I was, like, lonely in such a deep, deep way. And, you know, I was reaching for all this stuff when all I needed was to look at someone and go, That person wants to be there after I'm dead, you know?
You think I'm a crazy girl? [Joshua: No, no, I wasn't thinking that.] I mean, if anything, I think I'm just too smart and too sensitive and too not crazy, so that I'm feeling all these big feelings and containing all these feelings for everybody else ....And I just want to feel everything. I just want to feel it all."
And the idyll is broke. He has to go to bed because he has to get up in the morning. She's brought all her trash to his house and he doesn't want it, though he's too nice to really say so or to just kick her out that night.
Man, oh, man, have I ever been there. The moment that you hook up with an older person, who has all their shit together and you realize that you want something like this, but you can't have it because you are still too fucked up to be really be a grown up. And, unlike all the non-grown-ups you've been with, they're too nice to kick you out or throw that back in your face. Of course, Hannah's fantasy lasted three days before she saw it for what it was and left. Mine lasted three years and I never really did leave.
When I read some of the online recaps about the episode, most people talked about how unrealistic the whole thing was, a hot guy who has it all together fucking this weird, ugly, fat chick that he just met and then letting her hang out at his house for days and days. Well, I'm here to tell you, it happens. If it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone. Though I wasn't a complete stranger off of the street when he first had me over at his house, I feel like things went similarly. He was going through a divorce, (I think) lonely and sad, and living all alone in a big house that he had thought he would get to share with someone. He lived much more comfortably than I ever had while living on my own. He had had a stable career path and job since he was 18. He wasn't demanding. He was so much more accepting than anyone that I had ever met, though sometimes, when I was revealing my crazy and my damage, I did feel like I was getting that same "I don't want to react badly but I have no idea how to process this information or how to help this chick" blank look that Joshua has during Hannah's confession. And when I met him, I feel like I was in much the same area of my life as Hannah is.
But being with him changed me. One of the big changes post-him for me is that now I look for someone who is stable, mostly in their personality, but also in their lifestyle, and preferably both. I never thought I would want that. Another big change has been a focus on getting my own life stable. I know I haven't done the best job of that, but it is something that I'm working on. The next time I meet a real grown up that I click with, where we both would like to have a relationship with each other, I would like to be able to bring something to the table that isn't just my sex drive and superior pop culture knowledge.
I know that not everyone goes through this, these growing pains that Hannah goes through on the show and that I see myself in, which is probably why some people love the show and others think that she's a self-centered, clueless narcissist. But I know what it's like to be floundering, to be struggling to find where you belong, to feel like your place is to experience everything only to have that turn out to be not very uplifting things and then have a sexual relationship with a real grown up show you what you're missing but aren't yet ready to have. I also know that I have been just as stupid and self-centered and ignorant to my own privilege as she often is.
Another thing that this guy showed me was that close romantic relationships didn't have to be all those things I didn't like and that I could be satisfied in one. When I was doing my recent thinking about monogamy and had a great first date with a guy who only wanted monogamous LTRRs, when wondering if I could be monogamous, MP asked me if I thought I could have been satisfied and happy in a monogamous relationship with this previous man I'd been involved with. I'd never asked myself that question, because that was never a parameter of our relationship, but I think the answer is yes. And since then I've looked forward to being happy in a LTRR built on honest and keeping each other sexually satisfied, though it is yet to be seen if that involves being monogamous, open, or poly.
Two Fridays ago, I posted an ad on CL to get laid. I had an unexpected day off work, with no plans. I hadn't had sexual contact in months and I'd recently passed the 'year and a month without intercourse' mark. I was also just really horny that day. I fucked one guy that day. Meh. It was ok, but, after the horny was sated, I wasn't interested in him at all. I talked to two other guys over the weekend and into the next week, both of whom wanted friends with benefits, but who I had intensely mixed feelings about, though I ended up meeting one of them in person last Friday and giving it a shot. Ugh. Knowing more about the guy meant I had more to not like. I wouldn't really want to be this guy's friend and the benefits were not good. I'm starting to think that I need to focus on finding another grown up, one who also wants a grown up relationship, now that the horny isn't intruding on everything I do. I just need to find another grown up who's not a racist, homophobic bigot, who can host and doesn't mind that I can't, who's dominant in bed but not in the relationship, who likes at least some of the shows that I do... . Yep, no problem.
(Sorry if I posted this recently to the blog, but it seems kinda appropriate.)
Faith- George Michael
Well I guess it would be nice
If I could touch your body
I know not everybody
Has got a body like you
But I've got to think twice Before I give my heart away And I know all the games you play Because I play them too
Oh but I
Need some time off from that emotion
Time to pick my heart up off the floor
And when that love comes down Without devotion Well it takes a strong man baby But I'm showing you the door
'Cause I gotta have faith...
Baby
I know you're asking me to stay
Say please, please, please, don't go away
You say I'm giving you the blues
Maybe
You mean every word you say
Can't help but think of yesterday
And another who tied me down to lover boy rules
Before this river
Becomes an ocean
Before you throw my heart back on the floor Oh baby I reconsider My foolish notion Well I need someone to hold me But I'll wait for something more
you'd think you'd remember the exact time, remember what you were wearing, remember how things smelled
but you don't
or at least i don't
i know that two years ago today he started having trouble breathing and everyone came to his bedside at the hospice
i know that he couldn't really see very clearly and he said that someone must have on perfume, they smelled too strongly. he said it was me and told me to go back to the shower to wash it off.
i know that someone, don't remember who, came to the large bathroom with the shower that was for family members and told me to come back quick.
i know i don't feel like i got to say good-bye, though i was there all the time those last months
i know that how he died sounded just like how my grandfather, his father, died. i know that his death didn't take as long as my grandfather's, though it some ways i guess it took almost four years
i don't know what time it was but i know it was over before this time two years ago
i know at the time it felt like it took forever but looking back it feels like it took no time at all
it's two years on and sometimes i don't know how we're all still standing. at first i thought i'd never stop crying then i thought i'd never be able to talk about him without crying now sometimes i don't even cry when i feel like i should. i'm sure there will be a time when i don't remember this anniversary and i'm sure that he'll be just fine with that, even if i'm not.
i feel like i've changed so much in the time since then, though it might not be easy to tell from the outside. i wish i could tell him how much this has changed me, i think for the better, given me the job i do now, pushed me to really work on myself and stick with the dbt, though if there's something after this, i'm sure he already knows. i with i could tell him that i'd give it all back to have him back, not that it's a choice we get to make though.
i wish i wish i wish i wish so many things
but what i know right now is that i have to wrap this up and stop crying so i can go to work and that after work i'm going to break into that 6 pack i bought and drink to him
Smoking my second cigarette, because I'm watching what I eat and thus can't go have a mocha frappe or other ice cream treat, window rolled a quarter of the way down in the rain. I get his voicemail.
Hey. It's me. I just wanted to talk. Work sucked. I got called in at 2:30 to work at 5, when no one would even work for me when I was sick. Then the meal I cooked was tough as hell. Well, his wife started it before I got there so I guess it's really her fault but it was still tough and they didn't eat it. Then I almost dropped my client on the floor. And he was using something that I'd never seen before and no one had told me how to use. ugh. So work fucking sucked. I just wanted to vent. Hope you're having a better night than me.
I lit another cigarette. And heard the tell-tale piano playing
You might put your love and trust on the line
It's risky, people love to tear that down
Let 'em try
Do it anyway
Risk it anyway
And if you're paralyzed by a voice in your head It's the standing still that should be scaring you instead Go on and Do it anyway Do it anyway
There will be times you might leap before you look There'll be times you'll like the cover and that's precisely why you'll love the book Do it anyway Do it anyway
Tell me what I said I'd never do Tell me what I said I'd never say Read me off a list of the things I used to not like but now I think are ok
Sometimes it's not subjective: wrong and right
Deep down you know it's downright wrong but you're invincible tonight
So you
Do it anyway
It's done
You did it
Despite your grand attempts the chips are set to fall And all the stories you might weave cannot negotiate them all Do it anyway Be honest, anyway
So tell me what I said I'd never do
Tell me what I said I'd never say
Read me off a list of the things I used to not like but now I think are OK
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Woah woah woah woah
It's gonna be so very hard to say
And watch the trust and joy all drain from her innocent face
But you must
Do it anyway
It sucks but
Do it anyway
Call it surrender but you know that that's a joke And the punchline is you were never actually in control But still, surrender anyway
Tell me what you said you'd never do Tell me what you said you'd never say Read me off that list of things 'cause I used to not like you But now I think you're OK
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Woah woah woah woah
Everybody knows that you just gotta do it anyway
Do it anyway
Do it anyway
Do it anyway
Do it anyway
Do it anyway
Do it anyway
Do it anyway
Do it anyway
Cause you don't do nothing to avoid self punishment
You won't do nothing
You won't feel nothing
Gotta
Do it, do it, do it anyway
Ah
Do it anyway
And now I feel better.
*god Radio: What my uncle called it when the radio played something that really spoke to you, in whatever way. It's become a whole thing with those of us who were really close to him, especially as many of us have had times when we thought my uncle was speaking directly to us through the song on the radio, though I still use it for general mood-changing, epiphany-giving events.
**BFF's performance of the song on the Colbert Report is also great, though not as fun as the video above and no longer available online.
3:48pm. I'd only been walking 12 minutes. I felt like I should walk more. Wanted to walk more. But where I really wanted to go was near the park area a block down and a block over. It has a really cool lookout over the city, but is always populated by people who looked...well...sort of shady. Why are there always cars parked on the roads on the edge of the park, often with people sitting in them, all day long? Of course, I have some assumptions about why they are there, which might be wrong since sometimes I sit in my car just to kill time. But it is hard enough to enjoy walking on my own just around a few blocks, without having any major anxiety, so I decided to quit while I was ahead and just go inside the building where I go to my therapy and write. Hell, if it had been dark, I might not have been able to go on the walk at all.
When TyRoy was visiting, he would walk from his girlfriend's work to the downtown library, not far from where my therapy center is. In fact, the week after he left, when I had several hours between my individual and group therapies, I walked down there to read. In an email that night, I expressed that, though it was a brisk Midwestern January day, I enjoyed the walk, that I like walking through cityscapes. He agreed, said that he found the walk invigorating. But I'd seen him walking away from my car on his way back to his girlfriend's work, laptop bag hoisted across his back, and I'd seen a confidence, a carefree-ness, a self-possessed-ness that someone watching me, even on a sunny afternoon like today, would not observe.
The only time I've walked alone in my own neighborhood without my dog or a (male) friend was a few times when I walked to the bar a few blocks away and when I used to walk to work, which was only 5 blocks away. When I was a kid, I watched with envy when characters in movies would wander around late at night, whether they lived in a city or not. I envied people living in densely populated cities who could walk where they were going, or at least from the subway. I envied their autonomy, that they got to do this alone, without having to tell a parent or bring a friend or a dog. (Yes, now that I'm older, I realize that most of those people wish they could just drive their own car around and park it right in front of their house like i do.) Whenever my mom and I were out, or even if we were watching one of those tv shows or movies where I was envying a character's autonomy, she would drill into my head that you had to be vigilant while walking anywhere, watch out for robbers or rapists or murderers. Don't go here. Stay in the light. Keep your keys in your hands. Be aware of who is around you and what they are doing at all times.
Even once we lived in a better neighborhood, I wasn't allowed to just be out by myself (or at least that's how it felt.) I could walk short distances alone, like to friend's houses or the bus stop, but only if there was a specific person or people waiting for me on the other end of my journey. When I got the bug up my butt that I was going to get up early and go for jogs, my mom made me take the bigger and meaner of our two dogs. I was not told that this was because the dog needed the exercise, but that she was with me to keep me safe.
I know that my mom was just trying to keep me safe and trying to teach me how to keep myself safe. And I don't know how much it would have been different if my name had been "Christopher Michael," but I know some of it would have been. [Here is where I start to deal in some assumptions and some broad generalizations, but they aren't wild guesses. They're based on my observations and what I've read of/heard from/know of other people. Bear with me and don't be too quick to dismiss it.] You know why TyRoy walks down the city street like he owns it? It's because he does. Though he is subjected to a different cultural narrative as a black man, and I'm sure there are places where he will get a second (and third) look, a street in this part of the city isn't one of them. While I don't know this for a fact, I doubt he has been taught that everywhere he goes he needs to be constantly vigilant for someone who seeks to victimize him. I doubt he was told as a kid that he couldn't walk down his street without his dog or a friend and I know that didn't translate into an adulthood where he doesn't walk around his neighborhood without a dog or a friend.
My belief, deep down, is that I don't have any business walking around by myself, especially if I'm not going from one set point to another set point. If I do choose to do that, I need to be constantly aware (read: fearful) because I am a victim screaming out for a criminal.
Don't get me wrong. I don't agree with this. I don't think that women (or any people of color or gay people or transpeople) should feel any less welcome to walk down the street in safety and confidence. I just know that is not the lived reality for many people. (And, yes, I do know that there are plenty of non-minority cis men who live with these fears, but they don't have this fear because of this cultural narrative.)
I just know how stifled and constantly fearful internalizing this cultural narrative has made me. Right now, I'm lucky enough to have constant access to a car for any and all transportation I might need to do, ample parking, and a small yard for my dogs to use the restroom in, but I'm not sure what I'd do if I suddenly didn't have those things available to me. Obviously, I'd have to use other options, but how do you switch that off? Just the other day, I mentioned the possibility of going on a walk later in the day to my mom. "Better take the dog" she said. Rrrr, "It might rain. She's such a princess. She hates walking in the rain," I replied. "Who will protect you then?" she asked, sorta joking, sorta not. What happens if I needed to walk to work or to public transportation because I didn't have a car or the money for gas or car insurance/tags? How do I suddenly turn off that fearfulness that doesn't let me leave the house without a friend or a dog? And if I am supposed to be scared enough not to go out alone, does anyone really think that my stupid little Corgi is going to make me feel suddenly safe and secure? As long as this shadowy robber/rapist/murderer petted her, she'd love them.
For me, it's also become bigger than just being fearful of going on walks alone. As I said earlier, that has seeped out, turned into a belief that I have no place on the street by myself which then turned into I have no right to be out on the street by myself. Then to not having a right to my own self. It sucks and it's horrible and I hate it, but that doesn't change the fact that if something bad happens to me, someone will ask why I was there at that time, because it's my job to be constantly vigilant, not that the person or people who victimized me absolutely should not have done it.
***************************
A week later. The weather has turned back to what I think January should be like. It snowed this morning, though the streets are clear now. I bundle up, pop my earbuds in my ears, and force myself to go on another walk between individual and group. I even wore my ugly ass hiking boots, which are usually used for walking the dogs when it has snowed. I walk several blocks farther today. I left everything but my phone, ID, and debit card back at the therapy center. I try to walk with my shoulders back. The few people that I do pass on this chilly afternoon I look in the eye, smile, and say "hey" to. I'm not so much un-fearful today as I don't give a fuck. I don't walk all that long, just long enough for my face to be starting to feel numb. But this day I went for a walk. By myself.
The answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything in that book of yours I ruined that one summer at the pool.
How old you'd be today if you were still alive.
I've gotten better. I can tell the story of how I got to this job to my clients, can tell them that I helped take care of you while you were sick, talk about how much of a burden people who do what I do now took off of our shoulders, I can do that without tearing up. Most of the time. I never thought I'd be able to do that but it's only taken me 23 months.
Every time an anniversary rolls around, I want to take the day off, hold up in the house, drink. I was going to try to go to your grave, when I thought I was only working Saturday morning until 11 then Sunday starting at 5, but, because of the previously made plans of the people I'd be staying with out there, I wouldn't have enough time to really visit, with them or with you. Work intervened though. At first, I was going to be working from 1:30 til 9 Saturday and Sunday. Then, on my way to work Saturday, the office asked if I could stay overnight. The family of the client I was going to be working with had recently had a sharp decline in ability, which was why I was working there to begin with, to help the family who had previously been able to give the client care by themselves in the evenings. But Friday night had shown them that this client needed round the clock care but they couldn't place her anywhere until Sunday. I'd already worked several hours in the morning with another client and was planning on going back there Sunday morning, so that my co-worker could have a full weekend off. Knowing this, and that Friday night I'd felt so heartbroken over this temporary client's situation that I'd cried on the way home in my car even after a last minute call to TyRoy, I still said yes. How could I not? What had it meant for us to have those skilled nurses and aides there at hospice? When we had reached the end of what we knew how to do for you physically, medically, and we were at the end of what we had for you or ourselves emotionally? At the client's house, I didn't think I'd be able to sleep that night. I can't always sleep in my own bed, much less on someone's else's couch. But I did. Though I worried about how well I was doing the job and how well I'd be able to do the job when called upon in the middle of the night, I had some measure of peace knowing that I'd wake up on your birthday in their house, doing this job that means so much.
I thought that after having been on the clock 23 out of the previous 26 hours, I would crash when I got home, but I wasn't actually very tired. Mom had brought up going grocery shopping after having lunch out, but I wanted to do something else. It was a bright, sunny day, not too cold, so she showed me this trail I'd never been to. Then we went on an hour long drive for her to show me this house that looks quite a bit like I've been talking about building for us whenever I win the lottery except it must not have been on the road she thought it was because we never found it. Mostly we just talked. Not about anything too deep, but we did talk and laugh.
And we drove one of your cars. Out of the four vehicles in our drive, two of them were once yours. There's this new country song about driving a dead loved one's truck. I'd heard the song twice before. The first time, I just listened long enough to see where it was going and then I turned the station. The other time, I just heard the last few lines. Mom heard it yesterday and texted me and the three other people who also own a vehicle that used to be yours to warn them as you have a way of influencing songs on the radio. While Mom and I drove around, I had to change channels twice because that song came on and I really didn't want to break down, but I promised you I would listen to it later.
Eighty-Nine Cents in the ash tray Half empty bottle of Gatorade rolling in the floorboard That dirty Braves cap on the dash Dog tags hangin’ from the rear view Old Skoal can, and cowboy boots and a Go Army Shirt folded in the back This thing burns gas like crazy, but that’s alright People got their ways of coping Oh, and I’ve got mine I drive your truck I roll every window down And I burn up Every back road in this town I find a field, I tear it up Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck I leave that radio playing That same ole country station where ya left it Yeah, man I crank it up And you’d probably punch my arm right now If you saw this tear rollin’ down on my face Hey, man I’m tryin’ to be tough And momma asked me this morning If I’d been by your grave But that flag and stone ain’t where I feel you anyway I drive your truck I roll every window down And I burn up Every back road in this town I find a field, I tear it up Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck I’ve cussed, I’ve prayed, I’ve said goodbye Shook my fist and asked God why These days when I’m missing you this much I drive your truck I roll every window down And I burn up Every back road in this town I find a field, I tear it up Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust Yeah, sometimes, brother sometimes I drive your truck I drive your truck I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind I drive your truck
I miss ... well, I was going to say that I miss driving around with you, but I guess I still do that. Then, I was going to say that I miss talking to you while we drove, but I guess I still do that too. So I guess what I really miss is you talking back.
But today is your birthday. So I'm trying to focus on how lucky we were to have you while you were here, how much our life would have lacked without you, and what we've been able to take from the time you were here.
The Lumineers - Stubborn Love - SNL 1-19-13by IdolxMuzic She'll lie and steal and cheat, and beg you from her knees Make you thinks she means it this time She'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair But I still love her, I don't really care
When we were young, oh oh, we did enough When it got cold, ooh ooh, we bundled up I can't be told, ah ah it can't be done
It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all The opposite of love's indifference Pay attention now, I'm standing on your porch screaming out And I wont leave until you come downstairs
So keep your head up, keep your love Keep your head up, my love [x2] Keep your head up, keep your love
I don't blame ya dear for running like you did, all these years I would do the same, you best believe The highway signs say we're close, but I don't read those things anymore I never trusted my own eyes
When we were young oh oh, we did enough When it got cold, ooh ooh we bundled up I can't be told, ah ah, can't be done
So keep your head up, keep your love Keep your head up, my love [x2] Keep your head up, keep your love Head up, love Head up, love
No I can't change my mind. I knew all the time that she'd go. That's a choice that I made long ago.*
Peeking through the blinds, I just wished he would drive away already so I could start my crying. I'm not sure if it's harder on me when he or I leave after we've had a good visit or when we part after we've been fighting. No, actually, I'm sure that it's harder when we've had a good visit, because I'm sad that we can't have that whenever we want.
In the last two weeks, I had to say goodbye to my two bestfriends after our official holiday visits. It sucks. Of course, anytime I get to see Moneypenny or TyRoy I know that I'm going to going to have to say goodbye to them, not just "see ya later" to your friend who lives across town, but "goodbye" to someone who is hours or half a country away, who you won't see for a month or several months. Yeah, I know that this is part of the package. And, yes, I'd rather have them in my life in some capacity than not at all. But it sucks.
It sucks especially when there was a time that you spent all your free time with this person. Because they were your significant other. But you fucked it up. There is nothing you can do about that now. No amount of acceptance makes that sting less. Especially when you're finally back in a place where you would like to be in a romantic relationship again.
I gave in to the loneliness, but I didn't give up nothing else.**
With every step of the therapy process, I have a little mini-meltdown about the changes I'm about to make, what they might mean for me. I always started questioning if I would still be "me" if I changed this thing or if I will be becoming someone I never wanted to be. My latest meltdown was about how uncomfortable I am with each step I take closer to being an adult. I'm finally at a place where I feel I'm ready to start working a full 40 hour work week at this job and I want to so I can start saving up to get a bit more education and so I can get my car repaired or get a new-to-me car when the time comes. But I never wanted to be an adult, at least not like the adults around me, who were all trapped by the things that they did to be adults. Of course, it's silly. Just because many (most, all) adults I've known have been like that doesn't mean I will be. More importantly, my experience has been that, despite my anxiety to the contrary, I always feel better when I make these positive changes and feel like I've become more myself, with fewer encumbrances and obstacles.
Another thing I'm working on, after months (years?) of letting my actively ignoring how unhappy I was with it or making rationalizations for why I shouldn't even try, it getting my weight and body under more of my control. I've started off by setting a small goal, hoping that when I achieve it, I'll feel more motivated to keep going and set another goal. But that is life, right? You keep setting new goal posts. With any luck, the goal posts are achievable and you are motivated to keep working. Sometimes the area the goal post is in will change. Maybe at first your goal posts will be in your career, then it will be in your personal life. But when you stop having goal posts, I would think life would become really shitty really fast because all you're doing is struggling with no light at the end of the tunnel, even if the thought of working towards something more or changing your current situation scares the crap out of you.
My reflection, in the window when I ride, could not save us, but I swear to god I tried.**
In my DBT notebook, at the very beginning of the book, which gives the newbie an outline of what the therapy is trying to do, it lists "Assumptions about Clients with BPD and Therapy." Number 1 is that clients are doing the best they can. Number 3 is that clients need to do better, try harder, and be more motivated to change. That these things are both true at the same time, that we are doing the best we can and we need to try harder, exemplifies what this therapy is all about. With each marker I hit, I still have more to go.
The real thing behind my mini-meltdowns is that the resulting change is in direct conflict with the story I've told myself my whole life about who I am, what I want, what I can do. Though it's getting better daily, I've always believed that I was this really shitty person, so of course I'd do really shitty things. But reading this quote below by Ta-Nehisi Coates really flipped the script for me. Though it is in a follow-up post to one about guns, it is really about who we are versus what we do (emphasis mine):
I've been with my spouse for almost 15 years. In those years, I've never been with anyone but the mother of my son. But that's not because I am an especially good and true person. In fact, I am wholly in possession of an unimaginably filthy and mongrel mind. But I am also a dude who believes in guard-rails, as a buddy of mine once put it. I don't believe in getting "in the moment" and then exercising will-power. I believe in avoiding "the moment." I believe in being absolutely clear with myself about why I am having a second drink, and why I am not; why I am going to a party, and why I am not. I believe that the battle is lost at Happy Hour, not at the hotel.I am not a "good man." But I am prepared to be an honorable one. This is not just true of infidelity, it's true of virtually anything I've ever done in my life. I did not lose 70 pounds through strength of character, goodness or willpower. My character and will angles toward cheesecake, fried chicken and beer -- in no particular order. I lost that weight by not fighting the battle on desire's terms, but fighting before desire can take effect. These are compacts I have made with myself and with my family. There are other compact we make with our country and society. I tend to think those compacts work best when we do not flatter ourselves, when we are fully aware of the animal in us.
That one line just kills me: "I am not a "good man." But I am prepared to be an honorable one." For a long time, I've told myself that who we are is what we do, that I can ignore or work past my own feeling that I'm a shitty person if I just do good things. I suppose this is in that same vein except that it doesn't say that doing good makes you good. It seems to imply that being good is not the point, in fact we aren't good, but that we rise above not being good by being aware of what we are doing and truthful with ourselves about why we are doing it.
Of course, that means trying. Maybe I'm not prepared to be honorable quite yet, but I am prepared to keep trying.
Where there is desire there is gonna be a flame. Where there is a flame someone's bound to get burned, but just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die. You've gotta get up and try, try, try***
My therapist wanted me to write what Christmas means to me, but she wanted me to do it after the holiday. I see her Thursday, so I thought I had better get on it. Of course, I don't really know how to put it in "what Christmas means to me terms," so I'll be doing it my own way.
First off, fuck this. I fucking hate this because every time I've tried to think about what I might write, since before Christmas and then very much so tonight, I've cried. Quite a bit. Especially tonight. So, just so everyone knows, I fucking hate this. Christmas was a lot of fucking work. It was putting up Christmas decorations with my mom, with no help from my step-dad because he's a Scrooge. It was making cookies and food. It was cleaning like crazy because we were having family over and you can't have the least little bit of dirt if family is coming over. It was shopping and wrapping presents and never having enough money. It was final papers and final tests. It was a week of crazy, rapid cycling mood changes. Of having to take breaks from my studying so I could cry for no reason I knew and then of being so hyped up that I couldn't sleep, even when I was done cleaning and studying.
Christmas was always sad. I always felt this sadness, this incompleteness. Even before I had a context, I always knew that "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" was a really sad fucking song. At least half of Christmas tv episodes made me cry. Still do. Christmas is the end, the last holiday of the year. Your last chance to get it right, which I never felt like I did. I got to see so much of my family but it only highlighted that I didn't live with them anymore. But it wasn't all bad.
Christmas was stolen moments. Stealing moments with friends and boyfriends, whenever the two of you could get away from family. It was trying to hang out with my uncle as much as I could. Cold car rides. "We're going out for a soda. Be back in a few minutes," only we were never back in a few minutes because it took us 20 just to find a store that was open. That one year it was searching everywhere for Crystal Pepsi. It was the Saturday Night Live Christmas Special on Comedy Central. It was sneaking a daiquiri or margarita in the kitchen with my grandmas while my mom was in the other room. It was spending the week between Christmas and New Years back in [the suburb of the Moderately Sized Midwestern City] with my grandparents. After Christmas shopping with Grandma. Getting to visit with the other kids I was in daycare with. Staying up until midnight with my grandpa every New Year's Eve. The neighbors shooting off fireworks or just banging pots and pans around in their front yard at midnight.
Now Christmas is, well, shit, I don't really know what it is anymore. It's still decorating, how the lights outside and the tree still make me feel, even if I have to do it alone. It's still making food. It's still buying presents, how it makes me feel when someone opens their presents. It's still Christmas music, even though I tend towards the newer and alternative, instead of the traditional. It's still about the Christmas movies and the Christmas tv shows- Scrooged, Gremlins, Rare Exports, Buffy's "Amends," the House show with "a Jew with antlers," Dr Who's "Christmas Invasion" and each year's new Dr Who Christmas Special. Oh, and the Grinch. It's still a sadness. It's still working over the holiday, this time because we aren't leaving town and Dad is on call, so I might as well. In years to come, it will probably be required of the job.
I don't really know what it means. To me, it is certainly not the celebration of the birth of my Lord and Savior, as I have none. While I try to believe as my uncle did, that it's time off from work to spend with your family and friends, a time to come together and celebrate, even if you're only celebrating for the sake of celebrating, it sometimes seems to fall short of that when I feel like half that family is missing, when the family that remains is so small. I try to keep how he felt about it alive in my heart, however, so it remains something more than just a way to mark the year as it slips by.
