Thom's Mind 9/28/2011 Amat
It was Wednesday and Thom had just now managed to get the last of the garden and patio area cleaned up of all the debris from the party a week ago. It hadn't just been a matter of picking up trash but also of addressing some of the crushed plants and a few bits of broken furniture that he needed to be mended.
After all a lounge chair could only take so much weight and force before something snapped!
Shirtless, body damp with perspiration, he finished fixing the last chair and set the tools up on the table, leaving himself hunkered down by the chair for a long moment as his thoughts drifted. They'd been doing that a lot in the past few days, he could hold his focus for hours but then find himself drifting into uncharted and unwelcome territory. Territory where he had only himself to blame and focus on and where he felt achingly alone and lost.
Pushing himself up to his feet, Thom walked down to the edge of the stream and sat down with his knees drawn up to his chest and he gave the fish a gentle smile as they surfaced hopefully.
"I have nothing for you, you greedy louts," he said softly and after a few more hopeful circuits, the fish began to disperse, leaving Thom alone with his thoughts.
They were not happy thoughts, could not be happy thoughts as when you've been forced to turn the glass inwards on yourself and stare down your flaws and weaknesses it is never a comfortable thing. He'd promised Francois that he would work harder at not being his own worst enemy and he was genuine in that promise but in order to defeat those inner demons he had to acknowledge them.
And that was not a pleasant thing in the least.
Still he'd been trying to take it piece by piece, rather than allow himself to be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of sniping voices and inner judgment. It had always been so much easier, in the past, hiding from the scars of the past, burying them beneath the dictates of duty and the comfort of professionalism.
His job was something he was good at, no damn it he was fucking great at what he did, recognized as one of the best in the business, especially on the heels of the work he'd done with Lincoln Rhyme. He'd used his skill as a nurse to define himself for so long, letting it overlay the feelings of loss and inadequacy that had nipped at his heels since he'd been born. It was so confusing, his family had never been bad to him, in fact they had been more supportive than many when he'd come out but it hadn't negated the fact that he'd been the after thought.
The surprise 'oops' that while loved was never cherished or ever wanted in the way his parents had sought to have his brother and sister.
As hard as he struggled not to have that affect him, it had. It had and instead of dealing with it on a personal level, he'd buried it beneath professionalism, beneath building himself into a role where he was needed if not wanted. And from there, had developed into the need to be needed, which was ultimately self destructive as it was an ideal he could never live up too.
Staring into this dark, empty holes in the very fabric of his soul, Thom wanted to look away, wanted to throw himself back from the pain and scramble to escape it but he held himself against it.
I promised ... I promised you... He whispered internally, securing himself to the anchor that was his love for his partner and holding fast in the face of these things that terrified him.
Coming to Atia, an island that should have been considered a vacation, a paradise for him, had been like falling into a living nightmare. It hadn't been the sex that was the issue, he could do sex, had it with Peter back home when they were both available. No it was being forced away from the professional armor he'd wrapped around himself and having to face his personal short comings.
Maxxie, Prussia, Allen, Takeshi, Paul a list of men, some lovers, some potential friends who had ultimately found him wanting and who had cast him aside.
But it wasn't them. They were never anything but forth coming with me, it was my own internal definitions of what I wanted to be to them and how I ultimately felt when things didn't live up to my expectations.
It was hard, staring at these wells of pain he'd carried and realizing they were simply of his own making. That his own expectations had been impossible, not the fault of these men in any way or even how Thom himself had originally found fault in himself.
You're being selfish. Painting yourself the victim because its easier than facing down the reality that your expectations were impossible and built upon something within your own mind.
And wasn't that a quelling, humiliating realization? One that left Thom whispering his apologies to men who would never hear them as he grasped at his hair and tugged on it sharply.
I'm such a selfish, arrogant, jackass... the words tumbled through his mind. I don't deserve ...
As the words started to form, Thom sucked in a breath and held himself still.
Stop it! he said ruthlessly. You're self victimizing again and its not fair to him or to you. This is what you promised to work on not doing, this is where you have got to quit seeking the easy outs.
Looking up, Thom made himself take and release a deep breath. As he exhaled, he felt a soul deep weariness work its way over him, as it often did these days when he forced himself to stare down these personal short comings. So many of his coping mechanisms, mechanisms he'd relied upon for almost three decades, were not coping at all but rather ways to escape rather than to face and over come what he was truly facing.
Over the past days, he'd ruthlessly hauled each mechanism, each protective wall out into the open and held it up against hard scrutiny. Francois's words, as well as the intolerable instances of his hurting his partner due to repeating the same mistakes bolstered Thom's resolve when otherwise he'd have been retreating into desperate self preservation. Each mechanism had been found wanting, had been found flawed. From overworking as a means to run from personal disappointment and pain, to self depreciation in an effort to put himself down before the disappointment of others could land telling blows.
He was lancing wounds that were in desperate need of draining but the effort was leaving those areas of his soul raw and bleeding. Without even thinking about it, Thom lifted his fingers to the 's' cut in his chest, a small wound that was healing over without incident, though he was barely aware of the movement. He felt achingly vulnerable, stripped of internal defenses that he'd always had control over. Control that he was now systematically tearing away from himself in an effort to get at the faulty foundation beneath.
It had kept Thom at Bridges most of the week, at Bridges and away from the network as he moved through these periods of spiraling chaos that left him breathless, alone and afraid. He managed to pull himself together for short period, such as when Euphie had come over but beyond that the only other soul he could tolerate even remotely close was Francois.
I'm so scared, Thom whispered inside his own head, feeling tears touch his face as he wrapped his arms around his knees and balled himself up on the edge of the stream, physically seeking to gather himself in his own arms.
He hurt. He hurt so badly that it felt like it was stealing his oxygen, paralyzing his lungs and Thom had to focus hard to make himself take deep, calming breaths. The cliche would be to say he was losing himself but the truth was he was deliberately seeking to cut away the destructive parts of himself, a necessary act in order to grow but utterly terrifying in the interim and like a frightened child, he let the hard sobs wrack his body.
After all a lounge chair could only take so much weight and force before something snapped!
Shirtless, body damp with perspiration, he finished fixing the last chair and set the tools up on the table, leaving himself hunkered down by the chair for a long moment as his thoughts drifted. They'd been doing that a lot in the past few days, he could hold his focus for hours but then find himself drifting into uncharted and unwelcome territory. Territory where he had only himself to blame and focus on and where he felt achingly alone and lost.
Pushing himself up to his feet, Thom walked down to the edge of the stream and sat down with his knees drawn up to his chest and he gave the fish a gentle smile as they surfaced hopefully.
"I have nothing for you, you greedy louts," he said softly and after a few more hopeful circuits, the fish began to disperse, leaving Thom alone with his thoughts.
They were not happy thoughts, could not be happy thoughts as when you've been forced to turn the glass inwards on yourself and stare down your flaws and weaknesses it is never a comfortable thing. He'd promised Francois that he would work harder at not being his own worst enemy and he was genuine in that promise but in order to defeat those inner demons he had to acknowledge them.
And that was not a pleasant thing in the least.
Still he'd been trying to take it piece by piece, rather than allow himself to be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of sniping voices and inner judgment. It had always been so much easier, in the past, hiding from the scars of the past, burying them beneath the dictates of duty and the comfort of professionalism.
His job was something he was good at, no damn it he was fucking great at what he did, recognized as one of the best in the business, especially on the heels of the work he'd done with Lincoln Rhyme. He'd used his skill as a nurse to define himself for so long, letting it overlay the feelings of loss and inadequacy that had nipped at his heels since he'd been born. It was so confusing, his family had never been bad to him, in fact they had been more supportive than many when he'd come out but it hadn't negated the fact that he'd been the after thought.
The surprise 'oops' that while loved was never cherished or ever wanted in the way his parents had sought to have his brother and sister.
As hard as he struggled not to have that affect him, it had. It had and instead of dealing with it on a personal level, he'd buried it beneath professionalism, beneath building himself into a role where he was needed if not wanted. And from there, had developed into the need to be needed, which was ultimately self destructive as it was an ideal he could never live up too.
Staring into this dark, empty holes in the very fabric of his soul, Thom wanted to look away, wanted to throw himself back from the pain and scramble to escape it but he held himself against it.
I promised ... I promised you... He whispered internally, securing himself to the anchor that was his love for his partner and holding fast in the face of these things that terrified him.
Coming to Atia, an island that should have been considered a vacation, a paradise for him, had been like falling into a living nightmare. It hadn't been the sex that was the issue, he could do sex, had it with Peter back home when they were both available. No it was being forced away from the professional armor he'd wrapped around himself and having to face his personal short comings.
Maxxie, Prussia, Allen, Takeshi, Paul a list of men, some lovers, some potential friends who had ultimately found him wanting and who had cast him aside.
But it wasn't them. They were never anything but forth coming with me, it was my own internal definitions of what I wanted to be to them and how I ultimately felt when things didn't live up to my expectations.
It was hard, staring at these wells of pain he'd carried and realizing they were simply of his own making. That his own expectations had been impossible, not the fault of these men in any way or even how Thom himself had originally found fault in himself.
You're being selfish. Painting yourself the victim because its easier than facing down the reality that your expectations were impossible and built upon something within your own mind.
And wasn't that a quelling, humiliating realization? One that left Thom whispering his apologies to men who would never hear them as he grasped at his hair and tugged on it sharply.
I'm such a selfish, arrogant, jackass... the words tumbled through his mind. I don't deserve ...
As the words started to form, Thom sucked in a breath and held himself still.
Stop it! he said ruthlessly. You're self victimizing again and its not fair to him or to you. This is what you promised to work on not doing, this is where you have got to quit seeking the easy outs.
Looking up, Thom made himself take and release a deep breath. As he exhaled, he felt a soul deep weariness work its way over him, as it often did these days when he forced himself to stare down these personal short comings. So many of his coping mechanisms, mechanisms he'd relied upon for almost three decades, were not coping at all but rather ways to escape rather than to face and over come what he was truly facing.
Over the past days, he'd ruthlessly hauled each mechanism, each protective wall out into the open and held it up against hard scrutiny. Francois's words, as well as the intolerable instances of his hurting his partner due to repeating the same mistakes bolstered Thom's resolve when otherwise he'd have been retreating into desperate self preservation. Each mechanism had been found wanting, had been found flawed. From overworking as a means to run from personal disappointment and pain, to self depreciation in an effort to put himself down before the disappointment of others could land telling blows.
He was lancing wounds that were in desperate need of draining but the effort was leaving those areas of his soul raw and bleeding. Without even thinking about it, Thom lifted his fingers to the 's' cut in his chest, a small wound that was healing over without incident, though he was barely aware of the movement. He felt achingly vulnerable, stripped of internal defenses that he'd always had control over. Control that he was now systematically tearing away from himself in an effort to get at the faulty foundation beneath.
It had kept Thom at Bridges most of the week, at Bridges and away from the network as he moved through these periods of spiraling chaos that left him breathless, alone and afraid. He managed to pull himself together for short period, such as when Euphie had come over but beyond that the only other soul he could tolerate even remotely close was Francois.
I'm so scared, Thom whispered inside his own head, feeling tears touch his face as he wrapped his arms around his knees and balled himself up on the edge of the stream, physically seeking to gather himself in his own arms.
He hurt. He hurt so badly that it felt like it was stealing his oxygen, paralyzing his lungs and Thom had to focus hard to make himself take deep, calming breaths. The cliche would be to say he was losing himself but the truth was he was deliberately seeking to cut away the destructive parts of himself, a necessary act in order to grow but utterly terrifying in the interim and like a frightened child, he let the hard sobs wrack his body.