one way or the other
I've come up with a new plan. It's either the best plan ever, or the worst. I don't know. I have no way of knowing. But it's going to happen either way. In some ways it's similar to what I've done before, but the content is different, I'm hoping the outcome is different too. I wrote a letter today. I've been trying to get in touch with Dave for the past few days to no avail. I know I should leave him alone, but there is so much that I wanted to say.
I've realized some major things this week. Things about myself that I should have known before but never figured out. I've always been a creature of habit, and relationships seem to be part of that. I sort of offhandedly noticed it without ever thinking about it as the years went by. But I've noticed some destructive habits that demanded my attention this week. When I found myself repeatedly saying things purposefully hurtful and spiteful, in anger, I realized I had to stop. Even if it's too late (which I hope to god it's not) these changes I am making will remain. I'm taking steps in the right direction. I feel calmer, more centered, than I have in... well... years.
I've discovered what is at the very core of my decision making, what is at the heart of everything I do. I've always thought it was a drive for love, to find love and protect it at all costs. And in some ways that is true, but I've realized this week that growing up in the home that I did forced me to find my drive in more than love. In my house love wasn't... nurturing. It wasn't talked about, it barely existed except in situations where it was demanded (birthdays, christmas, etc). Day to day, what drove me, was a need to survive. It wasn't a sense of self-preservation, it was... more primal than that, and simultaneously, less primal. I didn't need to survive intact, I solely needed to survive. I needed to preemptively hurt anyone who might hurt me, and this became more central to who I was after James.
I looked for any excuse to start a fight because I thought that fighting was normal. Every fight that could have been small became a huge monumental deal, because I didn't know how not to rise to the occasion. I didn't know how to pick my fights, and during those fights, keep my head. I didn't know how to not explode. My mother never taught me that, and I never knew any other way.
I'm not trying to shove aside my responsibility. I take responsibility for not recognizing my patterns sooner, for not seeing how many people I was hurting, for not realizing that a "sorry" after that fact was not enough.
I don't know what, if anything, to expect. But I feel as though Dave has a right to know. And at the same time I wonder if that's purely my selfish need to tell him. I don't know. But I wrote the letter, it is probably the most honest thing I have ever written to another person. I just hope he reads it. And I hope he still loves me. But I don't know. I really, truly don't. But I have to try.
I've realized some major things this week. Things about myself that I should have known before but never figured out. I've always been a creature of habit, and relationships seem to be part of that. I sort of offhandedly noticed it without ever thinking about it as the years went by. But I've noticed some destructive habits that demanded my attention this week. When I found myself repeatedly saying things purposefully hurtful and spiteful, in anger, I realized I had to stop. Even if it's too late (which I hope to god it's not) these changes I am making will remain. I'm taking steps in the right direction. I feel calmer, more centered, than I have in... well... years.
I've discovered what is at the very core of my decision making, what is at the heart of everything I do. I've always thought it was a drive for love, to find love and protect it at all costs. And in some ways that is true, but I've realized this week that growing up in the home that I did forced me to find my drive in more than love. In my house love wasn't... nurturing. It wasn't talked about, it barely existed except in situations where it was demanded (birthdays, christmas, etc). Day to day, what drove me, was a need to survive. It wasn't a sense of self-preservation, it was... more primal than that, and simultaneously, less primal. I didn't need to survive intact, I solely needed to survive. I needed to preemptively hurt anyone who might hurt me, and this became more central to who I was after James.
I looked for any excuse to start a fight because I thought that fighting was normal. Every fight that could have been small became a huge monumental deal, because I didn't know how not to rise to the occasion. I didn't know how to pick my fights, and during those fights, keep my head. I didn't know how to not explode. My mother never taught me that, and I never knew any other way.
I'm not trying to shove aside my responsibility. I take responsibility for not recognizing my patterns sooner, for not seeing how many people I was hurting, for not realizing that a "sorry" after that fact was not enough.
I don't know what, if anything, to expect. But I feel as though Dave has a right to know. And at the same time I wonder if that's purely my selfish need to tell him. I don't know. But I wrote the letter, it is probably the most honest thing I have ever written to another person. I just hope he reads it. And I hope he still loves me. But I don't know. I really, truly don't. But I have to try.