Problems of Old Are New Again
Like most people, I wasn't born with a moral compass and over the years, I've had to fine tune it with the pain of fuck up after fuck up. It's more the memory of this pain that leads me to wonder whether or not I'm doing the right thing at times, especially in regards to those closest to me, and sometimes I wonder if the memory of that pain is actually being used against me, by folks who may not always have my best interests at heart. It makes it double, extra-strength hard, when the person in question is the person I should be putting the most faith in to act in my best interests.
Where there's sensitivity there's the increased potential for pain. I'm not saying anything particularly profound there, but it's not widespread enough to be considered a cliche, even if it is common sense. The point is that I'm not entirely sure that my responsibilities towards my fiance haven't enhanced given that fact. It's becoming fairly familiar around here, and by familiar, I mean I'm getting the same kind of tension vibe that I experienced with the person I was with back in Winnipeg. There are a lot of elements to the situation that are similar, and while it's very readily apparent that I severely fucked things up there over time due to my inexperience with those types of situations, I can't certainly say that I know the way out of that particular stretch of forest. I can not make the same mistakes, but I can certainly make others.
The circumstances are such:
Chemically aided depression. This stems from medication with depression as a side effect, and sadly, it's somehow the least of all the side effects available. Meaning, the depression is a positive trade-off in comparison to the nastiness potential of other side effects from other drugs. Hence, the complication.
Secondarily, she's either isolated herself from her friends, or her friends have reached that point in their life where they're super-busy and don't have time to maintain the same social relations they had in earlier years. Both of these are the case to an extent. Either way, my shoulders are taking on added weight and I'm beginning to buckle under it. I try to be as supportive as I can, but I can't help it if I'm getting increased urges for freedom. I'm content, and even happy being alone. This annoys her, because she definitely isn't.
There's also a financial angle in which Sears has been fucking her around for hours, and the pay has been drying up some, putting financial strain on both of us. This leaves her with a fair amount of free time to sit and watch Netflix and not be productive, and while she's off presently writing the last same of the year and then preparing later on tonight to do an all-nighter at the Crisis Line, it doesn't cover up for the sheer amount of time we have free. This also means that she can't attend regular k'ung fu classes, and I don't have enough leftover cash to cover her.
With all of this, we have the situation last night. I head off to k'ung fu with the hazy idea that we'd do something later. I say hazy because we didn't really put anything concrete down. My sifu and I don't really do any k'ung fu, but we head out to dinner instead, and after that I head up to find out why superintendant doesn't give a fuck for picking up his rent. When that was done, I went to hang out with Dad until we took off to work. When he left, he said I could stay and watch a movie if I locked up when I left, so I figured since I'd left it hazy, I'd just chill and watch the movie.
Yeah, bad idea.
It wouldn't have mattered so much, I don't think, if she had other options. But I wonder where my responsibilities begin and end regarding her in this matter and whether or not I've made the wrong decision. I come home and find her on the bathroom floor, crying and talking to her friend on the phone. It's the depression and the crushing loneliness. I read somewhere that men and women's communication styles are quite different via a number of dimensions. It hinged on the idea that men communicate in one dimension, usually verbal and predicated on the specifics of their speech, whereas women communicate in five dimensions - the verbal, the contextual, the subtextual, the emotional and body language. I don't buy that shit for a second, mind you. I've known communication savvy men - I kind of am one - but I sometimes wonder if there may be something to the idea behind the argument. Periodically, I find myself transgressing against some unseen barrier, which only partially reveals itself through conversation, and thinking ahead, which means thinking before I act, has a tendency to not uncover all of the barriers I could potentially trip. Hence, I trip barriers all the fucking time and spend most of my time apologizing, often enough for things that I don't feel that I should be apologizing for.
Given that it's difficult to communicate with her nowadays, it seems that this is the only option I have. This is the same experience I had in Winnipeg, and I'm having the same reaction - daydreaming about being single. I have to figure out a way to get through this communication barrier or else I need to start figuring out the logistics of being single again.
Where there's sensitivity there's the increased potential for pain. I'm not saying anything particularly profound there, but it's not widespread enough to be considered a cliche, even if it is common sense. The point is that I'm not entirely sure that my responsibilities towards my fiance haven't enhanced given that fact. It's becoming fairly familiar around here, and by familiar, I mean I'm getting the same kind of tension vibe that I experienced with the person I was with back in Winnipeg. There are a lot of elements to the situation that are similar, and while it's very readily apparent that I severely fucked things up there over time due to my inexperience with those types of situations, I can't certainly say that I know the way out of that particular stretch of forest. I can not make the same mistakes, but I can certainly make others.
The circumstances are such:
Chemically aided depression. This stems from medication with depression as a side effect, and sadly, it's somehow the least of all the side effects available. Meaning, the depression is a positive trade-off in comparison to the nastiness potential of other side effects from other drugs. Hence, the complication.
Secondarily, she's either isolated herself from her friends, or her friends have reached that point in their life where they're super-busy and don't have time to maintain the same social relations they had in earlier years. Both of these are the case to an extent. Either way, my shoulders are taking on added weight and I'm beginning to buckle under it. I try to be as supportive as I can, but I can't help it if I'm getting increased urges for freedom. I'm content, and even happy being alone. This annoys her, because she definitely isn't.
There's also a financial angle in which Sears has been fucking her around for hours, and the pay has been drying up some, putting financial strain on both of us. This leaves her with a fair amount of free time to sit and watch Netflix and not be productive, and while she's off presently writing the last same of the year and then preparing later on tonight to do an all-nighter at the Crisis Line, it doesn't cover up for the sheer amount of time we have free. This also means that she can't attend regular k'ung fu classes, and I don't have enough leftover cash to cover her.
With all of this, we have the situation last night. I head off to k'ung fu with the hazy idea that we'd do something later. I say hazy because we didn't really put anything concrete down. My sifu and I don't really do any k'ung fu, but we head out to dinner instead, and after that I head up to find out why superintendant doesn't give a fuck for picking up his rent. When that was done, I went to hang out with Dad until we took off to work. When he left, he said I could stay and watch a movie if I locked up when I left, so I figured since I'd left it hazy, I'd just chill and watch the movie.
Yeah, bad idea.
It wouldn't have mattered so much, I don't think, if she had other options. But I wonder where my responsibilities begin and end regarding her in this matter and whether or not I've made the wrong decision. I come home and find her on the bathroom floor, crying and talking to her friend on the phone. It's the depression and the crushing loneliness. I read somewhere that men and women's communication styles are quite different via a number of dimensions. It hinged on the idea that men communicate in one dimension, usually verbal and predicated on the specifics of their speech, whereas women communicate in five dimensions - the verbal, the contextual, the subtextual, the emotional and body language. I don't buy that shit for a second, mind you. I've known communication savvy men - I kind of am one - but I sometimes wonder if there may be something to the idea behind the argument. Periodically, I find myself transgressing against some unseen barrier, which only partially reveals itself through conversation, and thinking ahead, which means thinking before I act, has a tendency to not uncover all of the barriers I could potentially trip. Hence, I trip barriers all the fucking time and spend most of my time apologizing, often enough for things that I don't feel that I should be apologizing for.
Given that it's difficult to communicate with her nowadays, it seems that this is the only option I have. This is the same experience I had in Winnipeg, and I'm having the same reaction - daydreaming about being single. I have to figure out a way to get through this communication barrier or else I need to start figuring out the logistics of being single again.