2003-08-06 - 12:32 p.m.
I'm not quite myself today.
If you came looking to laugh, visit Bumptious. If you came looking to knit, go to devBear. If you came looking for sex talk, see Miss Lovejoy's "wanking" entry. If you want to see my newest read, go to Grey Eyes. And yesterday I had buttons if you're feeling crafty.
But if you're looking for chipper, life-affirming stuff, please go elsewhere. I don't want to yank anybody down from a good mood. But something is going on inside my fucked up little self that is overwhelming. I got into the car this a.m., pulled onto the freeway and just lost it. I cried the entire commute. And no, I wasn't listening to Peter Gabriel's US, and no, NPR wasn't talking about homelessness again. Instead, a realization I've been putting off pushed itself forward.
I consider myself an incredibly lucky person in many, many ways. There are numerous examples that can be cited - everything from the political - I'm female and vote, I control my reproductive system, to the deeply personal - my shattered back was spliced together with titanium. Part my feeling lucky is due to a conscious decision a number of years back to see deeply difficult situations as challenges rather than fiascoes. Unfortunately, this means that on occasion, something slips past my radar. Internal thoughts: Hey, I'm a healthy, capable person - of course I can deal with whatever's happening! I'll just do some yoga! I'll work overtime!
I've been in two long-term relationships, both of a roughly 3-year duration. The men were very different; our relationships were very different. One of the few similarities is that both ended due to huge trust-breaking admissions from the guys. There are some things that are too emotionally large for two people to work through together. Another similarity is that both of them ended up wanting me back. Tall Guy called me numerous times before he moved to L.A. for graduate work; I took J back for nine months. I thought I was ok with all of this failure. I was careful during the J breakup; it was a long, drawn-out decision, and I would make it again today. Tall Guy and I had lunch a few months ago and without explicitly saying anything, agreed to let the bad shit go. So hey, isn't that great? Internal thoughts from back then: I'm healthy, I'm happy, and I'm completely willing to meet new people and try again. Everything's a-ok.
You know, it's amazing that I remember to breathe, I'm so stupid. I am most decidedly not fucking okay. Internal thoughts again - from today: Crying in the car is not normal, it's not goddamn lucky, it's a sign that something is making you sad, dipshit!
I met a new person recently. We've developed a bond that is unusual, and one that I've come to value very much. He's shown himself to be sexy and funny and smart. Funny is absolutely necessary. Smart is a requirement too. Sexy is definitely good. All of the men I've ever cared for - friends and lovers - have those qualities. And then, most unexpectedly, he showed me kindness. And I've come apart at the seams. Because jesus christ, kindness is totally new. No man has ever shown me such simple human compassion. I don't even think it occurred to him not to. I can't figure out how to feel about this. I feel graced - because I've finally learned that this is possible. All of a sudden I understand that there's another level I've missed. And I don't think it's just this generous man - although god knows he is a prize in every way. But I also feel incredibly sad and angry at myself. How did I get to this age, how did I make it through those six years of Tall Guy and J without being treated with care? They couldn't give me something so basic. That is what's breaking me up - that I have been so willing to give love without expecting much back.
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