(no subject)
You should be watching me. You should feel threatened...
Ah... predatory. No other word for it. Today is a good day. I am without the safety net of money (again), and I have no home of my own, and I still have all of my neuroses and insecurities... but today, it's ok. Today, I accept myself just as I am today. And Michael's Threatened has become my theme song. Natural confidence is so much better than the manufactured kind.
_______________________________
I've gone back to practicing gratitude these last few days, just rewriting any negative thoughts that pop into my head with something positive, and of course, the peace returns as quickly and easily as it deserts me when I start falling into old patterns of behavior. Self acceptance is the headiest of aphrodisiacs, and that is the most honest thing I've written in a long time.
_______________________________
Barb was telling me about an article she read in Seventeen magazine, and there was a letter there from Drew Barrymore, and she was describing the joy and peace she courts in sobriety, how happy she is at 30 to be living her life on her own terms. I do not think that very many people understand the significance of that. I was happy B shared it with me, because sometimes I get so caught up in needing acceptance/approval from other people, I forget that I learned long ago that outside opinions matter not one whit.
9 times out of 10, people misunderstand each other, because of our own prejudices and misconceptions. And few of us ever make the effort to attempt to go beneath the facade. Which is why it's so easy to consider Michael a maladjusted fool, or to consider Barbara an emotionally needy basket case, or consider me a... whatever the hell it is that people consider me. I'm no better at not judging people than the next person. And I wonder how many truly fantastic people have bypassed me because of my own narrowmindedness. And so I will make the effort once again to suspend judgment, and I will force myself to keep reaching out.
_______________________________
This weekend, Auntie Lo had a women's conference in Torrance, and Mom decided to help her. I didn't go, and in a way, I feel as if I am missing out on something big. They had a couple of marathon meetings, and according to B, some really great speakers who stressed the importance of working the steps. I needed that. But. I think I needed time alone even more. Wallace was still around, but surprisingly, even he didn't ruin this weekend. Much.
_______________________________
We went on cleaning strike these last two weeks, just to see how filthy this man could let the house get, and... honestly, wow. Ok, I can't lie and say I went on cleaning strike, cuz I never really helped with the cleaning in the first place. I do my part. I clean up after myself, of course, take out the garbage, keep the ice trays filled... yeah that's it. But it's harder on B, because she likes to cook, and she likes open spaces, and the house is large and airy and pretty when it's clean. But Stumpy Pigpen is a human wrecking ball, and worse, he is an arrogant wrecking ball. It seems-- and I'm not sure, cuz I'm not in his head, so I'm just guessing-- but it seems as if he feels entitled to having his messes cleaned for him. So, she stopped doing it. Nobody can live with that kind of filth for long, she thought. Ha. He even stopped taking the garbage cans to the curb on trash day. It's unreal. The trash outside has been piled up for two weeks straight. The hardest space to take his nastiness is, of course, the bathroom. That is a room I cannot avoid because the only shower in the house is in there... so even I was fast getting to the breaking point.
Surprise. Yesterday, he had the housekeeping service come. Those two are so awesome, they even washed all of his nasty scummy dishes and cleaned and sanitized the sink besides. I had a shame attack a couple of times, because I knew in their heads, they had to be wondering how two women could let a house get so disgusting. Sexist, yes, but hey, I felt the shame anyway. I was just so happy to see them, I think I teared up for a second or two. And I know I cried when I saw them leave. But, for like, at least an hour, we had a house which smelled decent and didn't make me cringe to walk through it. Today, it looks exactly as it did before they came. What can you do?
Move the fuck out. Vitement.
The man has no sense of boundaries at all. Came home last night and he was in B's bedroom, on my computer. Oh, how violated I felt. Until I remembered that this is not my house. In his mind, he has every right. So. Whatever.
Moving on. Practicing gratitude. Working the steps. Because honestly, insanity is doing the same things in the same ways and expecting a different outcome. So. As long as I keep avoiding confronting him with the things I have a problem with, I can't complain that he doesn't change, can I? Nay, I cannot. He won't change. And who is to say that he should? I accept responsibility for the fact that it was my idea to move here, and it was a bad decision, sure, but what's done is done. Lesson learned. Again.
_______________________________
"Um, the last time we spoke, you said you would call... and that was a month ago?"
"Yeah... you were very sleepy when last we talked."
"....?"
"I thought you weren't interested."
"...."
"Sorry."
"Men."
Men are interesting animals. So much maintenance is required to have a relationship, even a friendship with them. I don't remember it being this hard before, but then, I slept with all my male friends before. Except Balde. And we see what happened there. I have no idea what the hell that means.
_______________________________
I have trouble letting people close to me. One of my greatest character defects. There are very few people I trust-- Barb, Toni, Marq. Kevin, too, in a sense. That's a pretty sad, small list.
Last night I realized that I've been fighting it, but it's futile. J is on the list. We hooked up voice2voice on Xbox, and he took me back to Halo2 and wiped me from the face of the planet quite a few times, and then we went to WoW. No different from what we usually do every night-- spend hours together, not really saying or doing anything of significance at all, but just being. It was great, though.
I can't call him a brother in the sense that I do Balde, or that I do Kevin, because our relationship is too intimate for that definition. I can't call him lover because we are not and never will be, and our relationship has evolved past that limiting definition.
So. He is my great friend, then, whatever that means. And last night, all the effort it takes for me to maintain our friendship became worth it. And it does take effort for me! He is complicated and different from anyone I've ever been interested in. A challenge, because I am used to playing the supportive role in a relationship. I get my pleasure by helping other people realize their worth and potential. But I guess he gets his by doing that for me, and it's odd to have the roles reversed. It means I have to relinquish control; it means I have to allow the focus to be on me, which I truly prefer not to do. I don't want anyone looking at me that damned closely; it makes me feel vulnerable.
B is the only one I let do that, and even that is an effort to allow, and I can only stand her doing it every once in a blue moon. James does not give me a choice. Honestly, he is better at deflecting attention from himself than I am, which is truly saying something. And frustrating as hell, because since we both deflect so well, we spend a lot of time misunderstanding each other. Anyone else I would have long walked away from. It's too painful, and too draining to keep trying. But. I couldn't walk away from J if my life depended on it.
I remember as a teenager back in Gary, I was having trouble communicating with Mom. I remember feeling hurt so often by something she'd said or done. It was always inadvertent, of course. She has never in my life attempted to hurt me purposely-- well, except for those occasional whoopings when I was a kid, but they were extremely rare, and she stopped even those when she realized the damage they did. But whether it was intentional or not didn't matter then; as a teen, all I knew was that I had given my Mother the power to hurt me, and I didn't want her to have it anymore. I remember asking myself if being that close to her was worth it; why care so much for someone who hurts me all the time? But I grew past that. Put the hurt in perspective, and learned to appreciate her as a person, outside of what she could do for me, or how she could make me feel. Once I learned to do that, our relationship became more selfless than it already was, and our dynamic changed from Mother/Daughter to Person/Person.
Somewhere in there, J is fast becoming the second someone with whom I can do that. It's odd to feel so safe with a man. Downright weird, actually, considering the nature of our relationship, and the fact that we are so completely opposite of each other. But B & I are opposites too.
I guess I am surprised, because I consider my Mother and I to be two halves of the same coin. Essentially the same, but so very different. I didn't think there was room for a third side. But. Well, there you go.
Ah... predatory. No other word for it. Today is a good day. I am without the safety net of money (again), and I have no home of my own, and I still have all of my neuroses and insecurities... but today, it's ok. Today, I accept myself just as I am today. And Michael's Threatened has become my theme song. Natural confidence is so much better than the manufactured kind.
_______________________________
I've gone back to practicing gratitude these last few days, just rewriting any negative thoughts that pop into my head with something positive, and of course, the peace returns as quickly and easily as it deserts me when I start falling into old patterns of behavior. Self acceptance is the headiest of aphrodisiacs, and that is the most honest thing I've written in a long time.
_______________________________
Barb was telling me about an article she read in Seventeen magazine, and there was a letter there from Drew Barrymore, and she was describing the joy and peace she courts in sobriety, how happy she is at 30 to be living her life on her own terms. I do not think that very many people understand the significance of that. I was happy B shared it with me, because sometimes I get so caught up in needing acceptance/approval from other people, I forget that I learned long ago that outside opinions matter not one whit.
9 times out of 10, people misunderstand each other, because of our own prejudices and misconceptions. And few of us ever make the effort to attempt to go beneath the facade. Which is why it's so easy to consider Michael a maladjusted fool, or to consider Barbara an emotionally needy basket case, or consider me a... whatever the hell it is that people consider me. I'm no better at not judging people than the next person. And I wonder how many truly fantastic people have bypassed me because of my own narrowmindedness. And so I will make the effort once again to suspend judgment, and I will force myself to keep reaching out.
_______________________________
This weekend, Auntie Lo had a women's conference in Torrance, and Mom decided to help her. I didn't go, and in a way, I feel as if I am missing out on something big. They had a couple of marathon meetings, and according to B, some really great speakers who stressed the importance of working the steps. I needed that. But. I think I needed time alone even more. Wallace was still around, but surprisingly, even he didn't ruin this weekend. Much.
_______________________________
We went on cleaning strike these last two weeks, just to see how filthy this man could let the house get, and... honestly, wow. Ok, I can't lie and say I went on cleaning strike, cuz I never really helped with the cleaning in the first place. I do my part. I clean up after myself, of course, take out the garbage, keep the ice trays filled... yeah that's it. But it's harder on B, because she likes to cook, and she likes open spaces, and the house is large and airy and pretty when it's clean. But Stumpy Pigpen is a human wrecking ball, and worse, he is an arrogant wrecking ball. It seems-- and I'm not sure, cuz I'm not in his head, so I'm just guessing-- but it seems as if he feels entitled to having his messes cleaned for him. So, she stopped doing it. Nobody can live with that kind of filth for long, she thought. Ha. He even stopped taking the garbage cans to the curb on trash day. It's unreal. The trash outside has been piled up for two weeks straight. The hardest space to take his nastiness is, of course, the bathroom. That is a room I cannot avoid because the only shower in the house is in there... so even I was fast getting to the breaking point.
Surprise. Yesterday, he had the housekeeping service come. Those two are so awesome, they even washed all of his nasty scummy dishes and cleaned and sanitized the sink besides. I had a shame attack a couple of times, because I knew in their heads, they had to be wondering how two women could let a house get so disgusting. Sexist, yes, but hey, I felt the shame anyway. I was just so happy to see them, I think I teared up for a second or two. And I know I cried when I saw them leave. But, for like, at least an hour, we had a house which smelled decent and didn't make me cringe to walk through it. Today, it looks exactly as it did before they came. What can you do?
Move the fuck out. Vitement.
The man has no sense of boundaries at all. Came home last night and he was in B's bedroom, on my computer. Oh, how violated I felt. Until I remembered that this is not my house. In his mind, he has every right. So. Whatever.
Moving on. Practicing gratitude. Working the steps. Because honestly, insanity is doing the same things in the same ways and expecting a different outcome. So. As long as I keep avoiding confronting him with the things I have a problem with, I can't complain that he doesn't change, can I? Nay, I cannot. He won't change. And who is to say that he should? I accept responsibility for the fact that it was my idea to move here, and it was a bad decision, sure, but what's done is done. Lesson learned. Again.
_______________________________
"Um, the last time we spoke, you said you would call... and that was a month ago?"
"Yeah... you were very sleepy when last we talked."
"....?"
"I thought you weren't interested."
"...."
"Sorry."
"Men."
Men are interesting animals. So much maintenance is required to have a relationship, even a friendship with them. I don't remember it being this hard before, but then, I slept with all my male friends before. Except Balde. And we see what happened there. I have no idea what the hell that means.
_______________________________
I have trouble letting people close to me. One of my greatest character defects. There are very few people I trust-- Barb, Toni, Marq. Kevin, too, in a sense. That's a pretty sad, small list.
Last night I realized that I've been fighting it, but it's futile. J is on the list. We hooked up voice2voice on Xbox, and he took me back to Halo2 and wiped me from the face of the planet quite a few times, and then we went to WoW. No different from what we usually do every night-- spend hours together, not really saying or doing anything of significance at all, but just being. It was great, though.
I can't call him a brother in the sense that I do Balde, or that I do Kevin, because our relationship is too intimate for that definition. I can't call him lover because we are not and never will be, and our relationship has evolved past that limiting definition.
So. He is my great friend, then, whatever that means. And last night, all the effort it takes for me to maintain our friendship became worth it. And it does take effort for me! He is complicated and different from anyone I've ever been interested in. A challenge, because I am used to playing the supportive role in a relationship. I get my pleasure by helping other people realize their worth and potential. But I guess he gets his by doing that for me, and it's odd to have the roles reversed. It means I have to relinquish control; it means I have to allow the focus to be on me, which I truly prefer not to do. I don't want anyone looking at me that damned closely; it makes me feel vulnerable.
B is the only one I let do that, and even that is an effort to allow, and I can only stand her doing it every once in a blue moon. James does not give me a choice. Honestly, he is better at deflecting attention from himself than I am, which is truly saying something. And frustrating as hell, because since we both deflect so well, we spend a lot of time misunderstanding each other. Anyone else I would have long walked away from. It's too painful, and too draining to keep trying. But. I couldn't walk away from J if my life depended on it.
I remember as a teenager back in Gary, I was having trouble communicating with Mom. I remember feeling hurt so often by something she'd said or done. It was always inadvertent, of course. She has never in my life attempted to hurt me purposely-- well, except for those occasional whoopings when I was a kid, but they were extremely rare, and she stopped even those when she realized the damage they did. But whether it was intentional or not didn't matter then; as a teen, all I knew was that I had given my Mother the power to hurt me, and I didn't want her to have it anymore. I remember asking myself if being that close to her was worth it; why care so much for someone who hurts me all the time? But I grew past that. Put the hurt in perspective, and learned to appreciate her as a person, outside of what she could do for me, or how she could make me feel. Once I learned to do that, our relationship became more selfless than it already was, and our dynamic changed from Mother/Daughter to Person/Person.
Somewhere in there, J is fast becoming the second someone with whom I can do that. It's odd to feel so safe with a man. Downright weird, actually, considering the nature of our relationship, and the fact that we are so completely opposite of each other. But B & I are opposites too.
I guess I am surprised, because I consider my Mother and I to be two halves of the same coin. Essentially the same, but so very different. I didn't think there was room for a third side. But. Well, there you go.