Self Sabotage

Ok. I remembered something recently about myself.... I'll try to make some sense out of it.... ugh, here goes. This is going to be long.

I have a terrible memory. I don't remember my childhood, except for photos I've seen over and over since then and some painted in memories of random things. The few memories I do have are more like extremely old polaroids or very vague imprints of emotions and events that have no visuals attached. I usually only retain less than 5 of these snapshots and some separate imprints for each YEAR of my life before high school. Since I realized this was happening to me in middle school I started sort of telling myself a story of my life - creating my narrative if you will. (I actually sort of want to write a book of my life because it would be fictional even with a basis in truth.) It's helped to improve my memory of my life, but it's extremely difficult to remember lots of little things with this method and there is so much bias in remembering this way. I feel like it's contributed to making it so much harder to get to know myself as well as with learning life lessons... I feel like I have to relearn certain things 5 or 6 times before it sticks per se. What a pain in the ass.

Since I've started reading so much on training and memory retention and learning... I've actually begun to suspect that all of this is attached to what is likely a REM disorder (my sleep issue). Research is showing that without REM sleep things you learn and experiences very rarely make it into long term memory, and that without that REM sleep we retain very little and what we do retain doesn't always get properly connected so that we can retrieve the information later. Awesome huh? So maybe it's less a pain in the ass and more of a freeing way to live? I wish it felt that way.

Alright so now that you know this important issue I have.... it hit me recently that I had forgotten an important pattern in my first relationship. I was constantly creating escape hatches in the first 4 years of that relationship, out of words, constructed issues that I decided should break us up, by talking up all the negatives, convincing myself not to love him, etc.

Hmmm, sound familiar?

I remember one day in particular (vaguely) where A got exasperated with me (something he rarely did) and asked me angrily/tearfully: "Why are you always trying to run away from us?" or something similiar. What I remember clearly is that the sentiment slammed into me. I was always - ALWAYS - less in it than he was and maintained that vigilantly. Always looking for the out, making sure it was there. I didn't use it until he forced me to, but I had it.

This was.... poisonous in a lot of ways. In order to construct an out when the relationship is primarily good meant I had to do it with words - because he rarely gave me much ammunition. So I would go to my mother (my best friend at the time) and my sister and talk all about what I was concerned about and I would constantly sound on the brink of a break up with him. By the time we broke up they both hated him, with lots of good reasons. We were together 7 years. I think I did this almost the entire time. Poor A. He managed to fight me off on a regular basis and by the end of our relationship it was a running joke between us. He could say something about it, I would realize that's what I was doing, and I would stop. That's part of why breaking up with him sucked so hard - I had finally gotten IN after years of fighting it and then I was forced to leave.

So. I vowed not to do that with K. And I didn't, though I had built in the escape hatch of graduate school. I did give him the option of going with me to it though - which in light of our problems we decided not to go with (haha, I make it all sound like it was done rationally and painlessly.... it wasn't rational or painless at all - he wasn't mature enough for that and I was dying in agony from feeling forced to abandon his daughter). Lesson here: Didn't build in appropriate escapes and I devastated myself.

Add these two experiences to a lifetime of inability to trust and my history of being abandoned....
and I sincerely doubt my ability to be the least bit honest with myself in a relationship situation. I don't think I know how. And I have to admit that terrifies me.

I think this is part of why I like E so much and always keep him in the wings. He tells me what I feel - and that works for me on a lot of levels. I'm fine with believing him and it's much easier than trying to figure it out for myself. Still - I stay away from getting involved with him because he's not stable and that seems to be the #1 thing I crave in my secret heart.

Alright - so what does this have to do with now? SP. Smart, an active listener (now anyway), a good foil for my neurotic and dramatic moments, sexy, and someone I was very excited about dating before we put a title on things. As soon as that happened... not as much excitement, because I needed an escape hatch. So I built a GOOD one: well he thinks he wants his own children, I don't - so for sure we won't last. Then when he seemed a little malleable on that issue I grabbed another one: Well, when he's done with grad school he'll leave and that'll be that.
During this time I've also built lots of little ones: We're both too selfish so we must not be right because if we were then we'd immediately just be perfect and put the other first every minute of every day (even though we're both rabidly opposed to codependence) and it would be a fairy tale (but I hate clear shoes, they're ugly, and he'd know that so he'd have been sure to buy me the perfect knee high black leather boot instead) and we'd never ever get the least bit annoyed with the other person (even though we're both critical and smart and speak our minds) or be too tired to have sex (even though we both have medical level sleep issues and I'm constantly on medications that fuck with my libido and so is he). Right.

I took it steps further this time. I just kept parts of myself, large ones, put away into little boxes and over on one side of my mind, the side marked with: not pertinent to SP. Doing this ensured I would never feel like he really knew me or that he was close enough to me to devastate me. I told myself it was to make sure we weren't one of THOSE couples I hate who can't breathe without talking about it together. I told myself I did it to retain my sense of self. I shared enough that he would think I was open, and in it, etc. I'm VERY good at that, but in reality I kept the deep stuff, the important stuff, to myself. On purpose.

Laid out like that... well. I am the partner I would never want. How sad is that?? My mother is beginning to dislike him. My best friend is too good to do that, but she's so cautious about us now too because she holds my ammunition for a break up. I constantly make her new arrows to hold for me, just in case I need them.

What I'm having a really rough time with right now is deciding if those arrows are justified, or if all of them are shit because I haven't allowed myself to really participate in this relationship as one. I've made it a fauxtionship - almost entirely by myself too. I'm leaning towards the shit option. (And Sasha - when you read this - isn't it funny how you asked me questions about all of this right before I got slammed with a revelation about it from within that basically answered what you were asking?! We're mental twins.) If nothing else I feel that this relationship has more to teach me - if I will but let it.

I came home from my conference and had a 3 hour conversation with SP. I laid it all out there how I've felt - and asked what his plans were when he graduated. He said his plans have been for a long time to take me into account in whatever his decisions are at that time, but that he never talks about because he has no idea what the options will be and it seems silly to think ahead when you can't plan anything. He's so practical sometimes, he doesn't want to waste energy thinking about an uncertain future. But he wasn't the least bit uncertain about me. He loves our relationship, and he loves me, a lot. It really hurt him and made him very sad to hear how I had been handling things. He has never pressured for more because your future is inherently uncertain at the completion of graduate school, and because he was afraid I would bolt. To me it says a lot that he chose not to even get angry, but instead asked me what else he could do to make me feel more secure in the relationship.... He asked a lot of questions, made sure he really understood what I meant and where my little unhappinesses are occurring - then he told me what he thinks is great about us and suggested some ways we could make it even better for both of us based on this and other previous conversations. He also told me how vulnerable this made him feel because he had no idea and asked for some reassurances from me that I believed in things over the course of the next few weeks... if I did.

Then he went and has been doing these things we talked about since then (not to mention his past track record of changing his listening style, methods of dealing with annoyance, etc.). He isn't the guy who says he will change something to shut me up. He only says it if he means it, and then he does. I'm pretty impressed and I only hope I can do the same - because the changes we want are only the type that make you a better person - not the kind I hate where someone wants you to change to suit THEM better.

It makes me cautious now that my best friend is cautious. When he's with me though - and I'm not overanalyzing everything - maybe that's the place I can find the truth of my feelings? (I have to say there on the couch with my head in his lap looking into his eyes while we talked about all of this stuff I felt so calm and secure but even here I hesitate to say I love him - though I know I do and I tell him so regularly without qualms). I don't know what to do. I don't want to only notice the positive, that's dangerous. I don't want to keep building my hatches, I'm already sad and angry with myself for realizing how I do this and am dying to figure out how to stop.... but I don't know if I have the capacity to look at my relationship clearly. Fuck.

I guess a little part of me always hoped it would be like a fairy tale. Someone would show up and manage to get past all my barriers and I would just FALL and that would be it forever. I think my walls are much too strong for that. I told him all of this in order to force myself to make a decision, and I decided to stay in. So now what do I do? I wish I knew.

The letter.

You look down and see an old envelope, with a yellow rose of Texas stamp on it that cost $.32 cents. The envelope has a little splash of gold glitter on it, like it's been stored in a junk drawer somewhere. As you flip it over, you see the flap hasn't been sealed. Inside is a self-sticking mailing label - so old that the glue is a deep antique gold color and has become useless. On the front is an address - your address from years upon years and moves upon moves ago. The handwriting is distinctive... but feels oddly childlike to you. Oddly large letters, mostly capitals... and yet you'd swear you write your own N's just like that.

You put the label back in the envelope and remove the letter hiding behind it. One piece of paper, removed from a legal-sized pad. Folded 6 times longways, and once down the middle. It's dated clearly on the top right... 2/15/98, Sun. You start to read...

Hi [Your Name],
This is your long lost DAD, a... father a.... or whatever you want to call me; Hey watch it, you know what the Bible says about that. Watch your tongue, oh well! OOPS!
I certainly am looking forward to meeting you. I've always loved you and sensed a longing for all the things I missed ^experiencing & seeing as you've grown up. I just recently acquired a photo of you when you were 13, it looks like a school picture. My my you have gotten big. The other or last picture I had of you was of a snaggle-toothed 4 yr. old. A tiny little thing!
Thanks to ^Aunt Cindy I also got some pictures of summer 96 when that you and [your mother's name] came to the Ganty House. Thank God for small favors! Also Brooke & Cindy, and Ashley's feet are in the photo too!
It appears to me that [your mother's name] has done a good job of raising you and that God has had his hand on you too; or maybe their in unison. Anyway you look like a million to me and my hopes for you span the universe. That's just the way us daddies think! You were a delight as a child and I'll bet you always will be.

A true friend forever,
Daddy [Your father's name]!

You feel... nothing as you read the words. And that spurs a rush of relief. As you refold the letter some other emotions begin to trickle down. A little bit of grief over the fact that he never understood you, and clearly did not want to - no matter what he thought he wanted. A little bit of thankfulness surfaces - that he stayed out of your life when you would have let him in. A bit of wonder for if the drugs forced him into what seems to you like an oddly surface and childlike response to what you wrote... but in all honesty deep down the main idea running through the back of your mind while you read was: BULLSHIT. Every line felt like one a salesman would tell you as he tried to convince you that his snake oil was different - it would finally do what you had been promised all the others would do. You begin to refold the letter, placing it back behind the label, in the glittery envelope with a stamp that will never be used. As you walk into the room where you keep your important papers and mementos in a filing cabinet, you ponder just where to put this one. You don't want to put it with the cards you get - you like to look at those when you have a bad week. As you open the file drawer you decide to just put it in a blank folder in the back behind the other memento folders. Once that's done, you head back into the rest of your little apartment - back to your life.

***

When I was 14, I wrote my father a very deeply thought out letter, that I drafted over and over. I labored over it longer and with more thought and care than I have any paper I've written up until my thesis. It did begin with me saying I felt that the title Daddy needed to be earned. He spat on that idea twice in this letter. I knew that might hurt his feelings... but I can't say I cared then or do now. I was only interested in getting to know someone who would accept the truth of my life without him, and choose to overcome it or start fresh. This man took all of my mother's money and all of their things in the divorce (he was quite the charmer from everything I hear... silver-tongued, charismatic, etc.), he even went back and took the money given to the funeral home so my baby brother would have a headstone. I understand that was an addiction thing... but I honestly don't care. He chose to try a drug known to be that addictive - heroin. He was clearly dumber than I am. He never paid child support - not once in my entire life. I have lived in someone's garage before, suffered verbal and emotional abuse at the hands of family members we've been forced to live with (not talking about my mother - she's a different story and she never abandoned me). There were times we only had donated food to eat, and donated clothes to wear, and donated roofs over our heads, but we had them and we had one another. I had a stress related ulcer in the 3rd grade. He made sure the one thing he did have when he killed himself (which I strongly believe is the coward's way out... it's much harder to live than to die) - a house my mother paid for - went to his mother and my aunt. I didn't want it - but it was sneakily done to make sure his only living child would get nothing from him.

I know that he got photos of me, I saw them when I was in the Ganty House. So... he also lied... or he was such a ruin of a person from the years of hard living and substance abuse that he didn't even know. From the sounds of things he was really only clean when he was in prison - though I can't be sure of that. My only real information source about him are his mother and sister... and his mother regularly crafts her reality out of smoke and mirrors (she blamed my father not being in my life on my mother... there's not a thimble of truth in that). My aunt I just don't know well enough to know.... but she went along with the stories my grandmother told the two times I spent any time with her.... and well, I'm not one who likes to deal with that. If my life taught me one thing - it's that trust must be earned. Liars don't tend to do very well at that one - no matter how well meaning the lie is... I have no desire to embrace a false reality and won't put up with one just to humor them either.

I don't blame him for anything negative that has happened in my life, and I am extremely grateful for the experiences that I have had (now that they're in the past)... but once upon a time there was a creative imaginative little girl who truly believed she was lovable. Who never had a shadow of a doubt about it - and he killed her... he killed her every time she tried to come back to life. He ruined my belief that anyone can provide me with security, that anyone will ever actually love me above others - like I would like to do for someone else someday. Combine him with my mother - and I am not sure I can ever believe in relying on someone else. It's sad in a lot of ways.

The final part of all this is that my aunt got my mother's e-mail hoping to get my e-mail from her later. But she hasn't used it. I told my mom if she asked to talk to me, I'd be happy to talk to her. I'm not trying to make them work to get to know me... I'm just looking for proof that they're not using me to make themselves feel better. That entire family seems to be all talk. My aunt has reached out twice... but even when she does it always feels like they want something. They wanted me to come to the funeral... why? To remind me that they have a fantasy of my life? To give me the blanket my father had on his lap when he shot himself in the chest, what was the purpose of that? To parade me in front of all his friends and family who never knew me? To make me wander the house I was born into, where my room still looked the same and my mother's handwriting was still on the walls in the laundry room.... why?? What was the point?

THIS is why children are so important to me. I've been the eternally unwanted. That sounds so dramatic, but it's pretty true. I kept looking for a good male figure as I grew up... I don't know if that was instinct, reaction to my mom's sometimes abusive ways, or what. I wish I had found one.
- The man my mother was with that raised me (he had a huge impact on me and was always the man who was my mental father)... eventually left her, but not me for a while... but then he also left me, because his new girlfriend didn't like me.
- After that she eventually married my stepfather. He and I hated one another.... openly. He openly disliked me. Very pleasant 5 years of my life there. His 3 kids moved in, I got to share my mother and my home with them, and the man hated me. I gave as good as I got.... but he was a nasty loud fighter. When he and my mother would fight I would sneak out or hide. I can't say he did anything good for my ideas of men.
- My grandfather verbally and emotionally abused me when we lived with him to the point that it was years before we could talk again. I watched him physically assault my mother. He took everything we had including our current home, and he made sure we lost everything we had in storage when he left too- bye bye childhood. That was the 2nd time I had to give away my pet because we lost our home too - because of him.
- I've had not 1 but 2 pastors turn on me. I trusted my youth pastors, I was a girl in trouble looking for guidance who was too serious for her peers. One ended up being a wonderful figure in my life for a while.... then he began to embezzle money.... and things got weird both with me and in the church. The other did much the same thing. He used me as a poster child to bring people into the church, tried to convince me my 'gift' was hands-on healing (I was a praise singer) and then when one of the older boys tried to molest me at a function and I told him about it - he told me to stop being so welcoming of attention.
- There are lesser incidents, many actually, but yeah. It's all a pattern. A bit of a sad messy history. And all through it there were moments where I saw real dads around me, and wanted, but it's just not something I'll ever have.

Reading this letter made me feel so much better in a way though - I didn't short him by not trying harder. In fact, I probably saved myself from just being more disappointed and crushed than I ever was before.

For the love of Francis.

Oh Francis.... he's been my best friend for years now - and closer to me than anyone else. Somewhere around 3 or 4 years... but I'm not sure he is anymore and that's why there's been no word of him for a long time on here. Our friendship has had it's issues, some of which I caused, some caused by circumstances, and some caused just by the combustible nature he and I have when together. I miss him a lot right now. I'm putting this out there partially for me, but also because I keep hearing others struggling with this same issue and I want to be sure I work through it as best I can. How do you know to let go? Should you? When is a friendship more harmful than helpful?

Once upon a time Francis and I slept together after watching each other get beaten down and broken up with by others, we tried the relationship sort of thing, and nearly destroyed our friendship in the process. But we recovered, or I thought we had. Maybe it's not the sort of thing you can come back from.... I was trying so hard to work through my own issues with his and my relationship so I made some space. I took some time and distance - thinking all the while that if he really needed me he'd let me know, but... apparently I messed that up to. I made it seem like I wanted space even from his needing me, which I didn't. There are months where my mouth tastes of foot even when I didn't say a word, I swear. The worst part was that I think he figured it out by coming here, I'm not really sure. Still, it felt bad. I didn't realize he'd been avoiding telling me that he did need me.... it was too late by then. He e-mailed me asking me to tell him why... so I finally did. I wrote out every concern, worry, and fear of what our friendship might be doing to the both of us. He reacted, responded, and did the same with me. All of a sudden the distance between us no longer felt murky and possibly treacherous. I don't understand why I have to relearn the same stupid lessons over and over again: If you value someone, be honest with them, even if it hurts. Why had we stopped doing that?

We went back and forth e-mailing for a little while....

What surprised me most about all of that was the misconceptions and concerns on both sides that we didn't share with one another when they came up. Two people who know one another so well, who talk to one another so much, and yet we still didn't say some of the most important things we were feeling. Some of that stemmed from not wanting to hurt the other by telling them they hurt us - but a lot of it stemmed from fear and self-interest. Fear of losing what we had or changing it. Self-interest and pride that got in the way of allowing the friendship to change and grow as needed - because we both have.

Playing off of a cliche - the reason, season, lifetime friend idea: I wanted him to be a lifetime friend, not a season friend. BFF is a lifetime friend. SP is likely a reason and a season. I heard from Francis just the other day in text message, though he's no longer my Facebook friend and is no longer showing up on my chat list. Somehow on the day I went in and found out I needed biopsies (and had them done, owwwww) he felt he should text me. I'm glad he did, and he did again today. He told me he felt we have a place to start from when we can again (life gets in the way so often).... if we can again, but only time will tell if he feels it's worth pursuing and trying or not. I led us to this place, and here we are. In friendship stasis. A lot has changed since we wrote these things to one another too... so quickly. So strange to move through life without him.

Engrish: I rack disciprine

Whew, it seems like my system may be clear from the antidepressant. I'm so relieved!! I have gotten 3 amazon orders since I started taking it. I didn't remember ordering all of these things either, I remember the family book because my therapist wanted me to order it, but the rest? Apparently, in my state (probably when I was so upset) I decided to order a psychological book on understanding men and relationships with them, one on what to do once you fall in love (not sure I'm 'in love'), one on female orgasm (not something I have an issue with), a new vibrator and an attachment for it - keeping that! - , a book on sexual positions - also keeping, Ride 'Em Cowgirl and it's awesome! -, one on happiness, and finally one on family issues. At least I still picked books by doctors and professionals with credentials.... but can I claim temporary insanity to send them back? There is one I would likely keep, just because it was a good compilation of findings in research literature and therapy on the subject.... but the rest? Haha, I wonder how I can say: I was on an antidepressant that made me horribly depressed, I don't need these now, thanks. This does explain why I had read all these odd book reviews and made posts about them too. That's weird, and I didn't fully remember writing them. Creepy!

Sadly, even though I would love to blame everything on taking this medication there were some definite grains of personal truth in what has been going on with me while I was on it this past week. What is nice to know is, as soon as I have a few hours of 'normal' sleep where I actually make it into the REM cycle and Stage 3 & 4 sleep, I am ME again. I'm ok. I'm bright, witty, optimistic, confident, love what I do, all those things that I always thought made me ME. Unfortunately, I think this downward spiral of the last two years has had some lasting negative effects. My self esteem and trust in my own ambition and ability to do what I want to do have taken a serious hit. My self discipline has eroded as well. I can't see how all of this would not affect my relationship too. It's not him, it's me. And unfortunately, after having problems for so long, it's not sleep deprivation, it's me. I might find after a few weeks on the right medication that this isn't true, but I'm pretty sure it is. Here's to going after fixing things either way, being proactive in my own health, and loving being alive again.

I talked to SP about the medication last night, it was nice because he laughed it off a bit and said he was definitely glad I figured it out and wasn't it nice that he hadn't stopped calling even if I was crazy? Which underscored the fact that he clearly wants more of a friendship+relationship with me and for me to trust him with things. I've kept myself from him for so long he had no clue that WASN'T normal me, which is kind of sad. After the lackluster morning after our post my breakdown talk sex which left medicated me completely convinced he was cheating on me, we had a reunion of sorts as well. The med also threw my body out of whack, but hey, there are plenty of things you can still do, and we did, lots of them. It was hot, very hot. It helped stop some of my brain's little voices about my body not being good enough right now too. I hate when I need my relationship to make me feel healthier though. Not cool with me.

So I'm still going to keep seeing the therapist about rebuilding my self-esteem and self-trust. I remember how it felt to have my entire life in my control, and it was good. I'm excited to get back there.

Love and Like

Recently someone I deeply care about but don't know as well as I want to, my Cami, fell in love. It's beautiful, and hopeful, and lovely. I feel so happy for her, for this turn of events. She's one of the most deserving people I know, who has yet to be appreciated for who she is and what she could bring to someone's life. When I used to pray, I used to pray for this for her. I have worried for years that it wouldn't happen, but felt more hope in her case than I now do for mine... All because she keeps the door open. No matter how much she has been through, and it's a lot, she has kept that door open to love. To be loved, and to give love. She's so willing to enter into things (or at least this is how it looks from the outside) and give it a try. You know what I would really like now? To attend her wedding, since I think one day she'd like to have one. To watch her smile and kiss her groom and see her live happily with her life entwined with someone who she loves and trusts her daughter with for the rest of her life. She's so deserving, and I dreamed about this the next night after I read how she feels about him. I hope it's one of those dreams that comes true.

With that door open to love there are so many more chances!! And this time, when she fell, she fell fast. So did he. While it's a bit mushier looking from the outside than I think I would like in a relationship, haha, it's sooo cute and happiness inducing at the same time. (Then again, I can be quite silly amounts of romantic when it's reciprocated. I gave up on that years ago now.) She sounds happy, the photos make her look happy, and it gives me a vicarious warm fuzzy for her, it makes me want to meet him, to see them together.

I know that's how all the romances say it happens. Movies and books sometimes ruin us for the times when love is hard, because they make it sound like it's always supposed to be easy or it isn't true love. Magazines don't help either, stating DO THIS and all will be perfect. Which is bull. Still.... I think there is something to be said for falling fast. There's also something to be said for going through something adverse early on, it either breaks you up or makes you that much closer. They have, and are that much closer I think (mind you, this is all vicarious, we live much too far apart for my total happiness and don't talk enough for me to really know).

When I have allowed myself to fall fast for someone, I devoted my all to those relationships. Sadly, they didn't always work out... but it was not for my lack of trying. I hate that relationships are the one thing you can give your everything to and still have them fail. I hate that the addage: put in what you want to get out - doesn't apply to them. I HATE when people tell me that too, because sure it works in a healthy relationship... but in an unhealthy one you just end up abused and overextended. I think when you devote your mind to being in love, it's more likely to last, you're more likely to be less conditional with it, you're more likely to make it work because you believe in it wholeheartedly (forgive the pun here). That's all love is, a belief in someone and in your being together. So when you allow yourself to fall hard for someone and fast, and choose to believe in it deeply, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. My favorite kind of prophecy.

That's what scares me. I'm afraid to believe in love anymore. I've felt lost, and broken, and discarded by overextending my belief in an 'us' that was only being sustained by me. The last time it happened it took me over a year to recover... which disgusts me. Now I'm terrified to let go and love someone completely. It scares me that I'll stay so guarded that I won't want to do it again. As of today I've been in a relationship with SP for close to or over a year, depending on how you look at it(from when we had THE conversation and when we met, respectively).... and I let myself love him occasionally. I said it first, by almost two months. That makes no difference to me surprisingly. He says it to me very rarely (3 times total? I think?). I'm much more comfortable saying, "I really like you." I think he is too. Sometimes that thought alone makes me wonder if we are doomed.

Land of Dairy: Commitment Revisited

SP's and my communication is up 400% or more since the trip. This COULD work maybe for a little bit. Again... lol... look at all those IF and SHORT TERM words. I can't even think about committing without feeling odd. I KNOW that what I really want in my life is a forever. Deep, deep, deep down.... I'm a romantic. My own brand of romantic for sure, but definitely a romantic. I am capable of lifetime love. I'd prefer to be allowed some openness in sexual expression in that love (women or men depending on what gender I am with, threesomes, all sorts of play but only for both of us together), but I am likely capable of subsisting on love without that (as long as there is sexual spice). I want the love my father and my family never gave me. I want the unconditional. I want the commitment. Shit, for that I'd probably even take marriage.

If I'm completely, 100% honest with myself I know that yes I would like to be married one day - not necessarily in the eyes of the government or the church but at least in the eyes of myself and the person I am with. I like living with someone. I like the knowing, the sex on tap, the commune with another person who cares about you. I prefer living in a relationship, though I'm no slouch out of one either. I like myself most of the time, but I have no belief that anyone else will. Maybe it's my abandonment issues rearing their ugly head on that one, who knows.

Oddly enough I have started to view child rearing as more of a challenge and to think I might just have something special to offer a child one day too. Let's not get carried away with that though, it's a passing idea, my gut reaction remains NOT ME. Adoption looks sort of like a boot leather sirloin would next to a chateaubriand life of no kids at all to me. That's the only change though, is that now they both at least look edible. Before this last year adoption looked like eating cat poop would next to the glorious steak experience that is a perfect chateaubriand. Just for frame of reference.

The more I force myself to think about these thoughts I avoid, the more comfortable I become with them. That's the idea... I hope I can open my own door again.

Land of Dairy: Trust Issues

One major thing though.... I have a hard time opening up to SP still. I don't know if it's my perception of him being critical or what the fuck. It pisses me off. Well, at the moment with raging hormones I'm alternately pissed, annoyed, laughing my ass off, or near tears. I'm also in pain, and sooooo tired, but of course not sleeping. I have a sleeping pill piece from SP to try in a little bit when I feel purged enough of thought to sleep. If it works, I'm getting a new prescription. I can't talk to my faves, so writing will have to suffice.

Ok, back to the issue at hand. I know everything goes better when I am honest with SP. I know I like myself better when I am honest with most people (most people = not my family). I like telling the truth, it's my happy place. I have a hard time doing it sometimes, maybe due to my secretive family, my compulsive liar of a 7-year boyfriend and best friend, my own instinct to protect myself, or maybe it's just that SP likes to just listen. He often listens without talking back, sometimes without responding at all, other times he'll think about what I said intently and then respond. Basically, I feel like I can't ever make an important topic lighter... it doesn't work with him. I'd like to talk about some things with him, but I freak out and squirm and suddenly can't say what I mean properly... I manage to misrepresent myself.... I even do things that make it look and sound like I am lying just because I'm uncomfortable. I prefer to reveal my secrets with him late at night, in the dark, where I can hide my face and my body language. When I'm honest though... usually there's no issue. Things just work. Bleh, it's a major conundrum for me. WHY can't I just be honest?? Do I really care what he thinks that much?? That's stupid, I want him to like me FOR ME. Not to be someone he wants me to be. I don't think that's the issue.... I think it's much deeper than that... trust. I tried pushing myself occasionally to reveal secret things and parts of myself to him on this trip, to say what I wanted, to be more aggressive and assertive in my thoughts and desires and wants and needs. One way I did this was that I sang in front of him... which since my first boyfriend hated me to do that.... is hard now. Then when that didn't feel too revealing, I played Near to You by A Fine Frenzy for him, sang along with it, and explained what this song meant to me... that it was my anthem when I met him.

"Near To You"

He and I had something beautiful
But so dysfunctional, it couldn't last
I loved him so but I let him go
'Cause I knew he'd never love me back

Such pain as this
Shouldn't have to be experienced
I'm still reeling from the loss,
Still a little bit delirious

Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.

You and I have something different
And I'm enjoying it cautiously
I'm battle scarred, I am working oh so hard
To get back to who I used to be

He's disappearing
Fading suddenly
I'm so close to being yours
Won't you stay with me
Please

Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.

I only know that I am
Better where you are
I only know that I am
Better where you are
I only know that I belong
Where you are

Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
Though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on

Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.

Yet, I'm better near to you.

He listened closely to the words, and I know he understood, but he didn't say a word. I had really overreached my comfort zone on that one. He seemed fine with it, he didn't do anything super mushy after it... and I couldn't decide if that would have helped or not. I was relieved by his reaction but not reassured. I think I would have liked to have known what he thought and because I didn't... I remained feeling a bit vulnerable and exposed and in need of some kind of assurance. Yet I couldn't ask what he thought, I just couldn't speak because I already felt so exposed. My broken, it hurts me to show you it... Aside: He told me tonight that he usually hates when people sing along to the radio but he never wanted me to stop. He said he thought that the entire trip. He told me I should try out for American Idol, lol. I told him thank you, and to shut up and not make me blush in public. (I can fall on my face in front of a crowd of people and not blush, but a compliment that matters to me and I'm instantly embarrassed.)