Magokoro o kimi ni - my true heart to you
A sort of a correlary to this post. I've gotten a number of emails and comments and had a number of conversations that have led me to realize that various people don't know various things.
1. For you who believe this, I have never deliberately abused or hurt Cyn. I was extremely frustrated with her at times, yes; we are, in the end, incredibly similar people, and the way she constantly criticized me, while not accepting my criticism of her, caused a severe imbalance in the relationship and set off my hypocrisy alarms.
1.5. I may have done so without meaning to. I am aware of this possibility. I try not to think on it too much, because it frightens me to death, and because I do not yet have sufficient control of my psyche and will, nor sufficient perception of other people's perspectives, to always realize or change when I am hurting people.
2. For you who believe this, I want to say that Cyn never deliberately abused or hurt me. But, of course, I can't: I'm not in her head, and I try not to make statements about other people's subjective realities. I am not saying this simply to defend her; I do not believe she was consciously abusive, and it does, in the end, boil down to faith without evidence. But ultimately I have neither the knowledge nor the right to influence whatever decisions others may make on this subject. In other words, that's between you, Cyn, and your own perceptions.
3. As you may have gathered from the previous, I no longer (have not for several months) have the ability to perceive my relationship with Cyn, and Caroline by extension, with any degree of objectivity whatsoever. I am too aware of the subjectivity of my perception and memory, have heard too many conflicting views, been condemned for possessing attitudes I do not think I possess; I have reached the point of epistimological crisis on this subject, and can only state the facts that are entirely mine, purely subjective and internal, in my defense, as I did in point 1. (And, yes, I do feel like I'm on trial, and in the case of several old friends, already judged and sentenced.)
3.5. Epistimological crisis--yes, I really am too smart for my own good. -.-;;
3.5.5. I never thought I'd catch myself thinking this, having always been a dogged relativist, but god-fucking-damn, subjectivity can suck sometimes.
1.5.5. In the personal truths about the relationship category: although I know some people think I did, I never wanted nor asked Cyn to take the parental role. She assumed it against my will. I consider it my failing that I never had the strength, confidence, or faith in my own right to do so necessary to challenge this and attempt to restore our relationship to one of equality. (This also, I personally believe, had nothing to do with our sexual roles.)
4. Related to the Cyn-drama only by virtue (?) of involving homelessness: the falling-out over house-sitting with Andrea. Again, as always, only my perspective. A lot of miscommunication and misinterpretation, possibly partially due to a very last-minute arrangement over a very staticky phone line. I had seventy-eight cents in the world at that point, and had to eat my way through her pantry to survive, which I thought was okay but wasn't. An Intercon-related schedule glitch--purely my fault, and mostly just due to my being scattered--led to my not having the time to clean up properly, not having the wherewithall to leave a note (it literally did not occur to me at all), not having the brains and focus to handle her anger with any grace or sensitivity whatsoever when she called as I was halfway into my costume in the bathroom. And a massive misassumption made by both me and Eric, that it would be okay if he stayed over (as it followed on a previous plan, and involved more miscommunication), that really was my responsibility as house-sitter.
4.5. Yeah, I failed. I fucked up. And I never know what to do when that happens. I hide, I avoid contact--which usually makes it worse--because I'm terrified of being judged and punished, because I usually do it to myself long before anyone else has a chance. That angry call from Andrea started the spiral into one of the worst breakdowns of my life; I berated myself, made myself absolutely miserable, because I had betrayed a friend, because I had lost one line of my safety net and was terrified of what would happen if I lost the rest; I was this close to just driving until I found a homeless shelter and hiding at the door until they found me, because it was what I deserved, I might as well get it over with; etcetera; etcetera. I judged myself, punished myself, psychologically tortured myself until I couldn't take it anymore; I wouldn't tell Andrea that, of course, because that's simply unfair, a phenomenal guilt-trip for expressing what she needed to express; and, too, I didn't want to just start listing excuses, because that sounds like I'm trying to whine my way back into her good graces; so all that was left was to say that I was sorry, and mean it, but I don't think that was either good enough or what she needed. So I hid everything from her, and hid myself from her, because I had already hurt myself and I didn't want to be hurt more.
4.5.5. Okay, writing that made me cry. I seem to be quite functional at the moment despite the lack of drugs or therapy, but yeah, in some ways I'm still very fucked up.
5. I'm angry, at times, in little bits; like driftwood, it comes up and goes away and doesn't do much of anything in the end. I will sometimes say something bitter or spiteful, towards Cyn or Caroline or other friends I've lost, while in the company of people who I know will not mind it. Because, yes, there is a little outrage in me: at the hypocrisy I perceive in the relationship (as noted above), at the abruptness of the kicking-out and the cessation of contact, at the assumption Cyn made at the time that we'd still be together at some point in the future, at the assumption Cyn has always seemed to make that she knows better than me, at the sheer absurdity of the final straw being that I went out to dinner with my friends and wasn't sorry for it. At the fact that leaving someone homeless, unemployed, and close to penniless in New England in February because you believe they're as irresponsible and incapable of taking care of themselves as a small child--leaving a small child homeless in Boston in February--is relatively close to attempted murder, and it is in spite of the actions of my lover who I trusted with my life and my heart that I am alive and off the streets. That it is instead because of you, because of my friends who took me in (some of whom were people who Cyn had pushed away in the past), and a little, too, because of my own strength and resourcefulness, which I wasn't believed to have, that I'm in a cozy little room with two cats dozing on my bed, sorting through job leads.
5.5. But I'm only angry at times, and only in a vague and silly sort of way. I give the apartment the finger when I drive past in on rt. 16. I joke about sneaking in and stealing books that Cyn never let me read, but never actually do so. I resent that two women I loved threw me out in the cold like piece of trash when they couldn't deal with me anymore, and I'm not likely to forgive them any time soon, but I don't hate them for it, and I simultaneously hope they're happy with each other and without me and that they realize, someday, that using me as their scapegoat at the risk of my life wasn't necessarily the best or kindest thing to do. I don't suppose that will make sense to some of you, but it is how my brain works.
6. I hate job-hunting. It's endlessly frustrating; I get dead lead after dead lead after dead lead, a few good interviews that never go anywhere and nothing else; it makes me feel useless, unwanted, pathetic, like I'll never be good enough even just to earn a living. I hate having to sell myself and the lies inherent in it. But I'm doing it. I'm trying as hard as I can. The night that Cyn threw me out, the last time she said more than two words to me, we were actually almost civil, as I was slowly packing up my altar and other treasures, and it was just as I was leaving, when she told me that I wasn't trying, that I exploded at her, because it was one of the most infuriating things I'd ever heard. Because I had been trying, very hard. I almost always am. It may not always work, it may not always do any good, but I am trying, damn it; and she wasn't in my head, she had no idea what my internal state was, and she had absolutely no right to say that to me.
6.5. Er, that turned into an irrelevant rant. Sorry.
6.5.5. But I am trying. And I think I'm growing, learning. Very fast, even, in the past few weeks. It's nearly impossible for me to do so without somebody having faith in me--and for a long time I was surrounded by people who didn't, who treated me like I'd never grow up, and so of course, self-fulfilling prophecy, I didn't. But now, I am close to somebody who has faith in me; and I'm starting to be able to have faith in myself. That, I think, could lead into a really rather long post about why I'm being drawn to Thelema right now--which is a post I need to write, oh yes, but not at this exact moment--and I think I may have more things like this that I'll need to post in the future.
Now, in the meantime, I need to go back to job-hunting and pantry-stocking. Must...obtain...food...*stomach growls*
And--I owe some of you very long emails, and all of you more thanks than I can give. I'm not particularly good at being suitably grateful, particularly when I owe so much, but I am. Even if I express things clumsily, even if I come off as cold, or crude, or superficial. Thank you.
1. For you who believe this, I have never deliberately abused or hurt Cyn. I was extremely frustrated with her at times, yes; we are, in the end, incredibly similar people, and the way she constantly criticized me, while not accepting my criticism of her, caused a severe imbalance in the relationship and set off my hypocrisy alarms.
1.5. I may have done so without meaning to. I am aware of this possibility. I try not to think on it too much, because it frightens me to death, and because I do not yet have sufficient control of my psyche and will, nor sufficient perception of other people's perspectives, to always realize or change when I am hurting people.
2. For you who believe this, I want to say that Cyn never deliberately abused or hurt me. But, of course, I can't: I'm not in her head, and I try not to make statements about other people's subjective realities. I am not saying this simply to defend her; I do not believe she was consciously abusive, and it does, in the end, boil down to faith without evidence. But ultimately I have neither the knowledge nor the right to influence whatever decisions others may make on this subject. In other words, that's between you, Cyn, and your own perceptions.
3. As you may have gathered from the previous, I no longer (have not for several months) have the ability to perceive my relationship with Cyn, and Caroline by extension, with any degree of objectivity whatsoever. I am too aware of the subjectivity of my perception and memory, have heard too many conflicting views, been condemned for possessing attitudes I do not think I possess; I have reached the point of epistimological crisis on this subject, and can only state the facts that are entirely mine, purely subjective and internal, in my defense, as I did in point 1. (And, yes, I do feel like I'm on trial, and in the case of several old friends, already judged and sentenced.)
3.5. Epistimological crisis--yes, I really am too smart for my own good. -.-;;
3.5.5. I never thought I'd catch myself thinking this, having always been a dogged relativist, but god-fucking-damn, subjectivity can suck sometimes.
1.5.5. In the personal truths about the relationship category: although I know some people think I did, I never wanted nor asked Cyn to take the parental role. She assumed it against my will. I consider it my failing that I never had the strength, confidence, or faith in my own right to do so necessary to challenge this and attempt to restore our relationship to one of equality. (This also, I personally believe, had nothing to do with our sexual roles.)
4. Related to the Cyn-drama only by virtue (?) of involving homelessness: the falling-out over house-sitting with Andrea. Again, as always, only my perspective. A lot of miscommunication and misinterpretation, possibly partially due to a very last-minute arrangement over a very staticky phone line. I had seventy-eight cents in the world at that point, and had to eat my way through her pantry to survive, which I thought was okay but wasn't. An Intercon-related schedule glitch--purely my fault, and mostly just due to my being scattered--led to my not having the time to clean up properly, not having the wherewithall to leave a note (it literally did not occur to me at all), not having the brains and focus to handle her anger with any grace or sensitivity whatsoever when she called as I was halfway into my costume in the bathroom. And a massive misassumption made by both me and Eric, that it would be okay if he stayed over (as it followed on a previous plan, and involved more miscommunication), that really was my responsibility as house-sitter.
4.5. Yeah, I failed. I fucked up. And I never know what to do when that happens. I hide, I avoid contact--which usually makes it worse--because I'm terrified of being judged and punished, because I usually do it to myself long before anyone else has a chance. That angry call from Andrea started the spiral into one of the worst breakdowns of my life; I berated myself, made myself absolutely miserable, because I had betrayed a friend, because I had lost one line of my safety net and was terrified of what would happen if I lost the rest; I was this close to just driving until I found a homeless shelter and hiding at the door until they found me, because it was what I deserved, I might as well get it over with; etcetera; etcetera. I judged myself, punished myself, psychologically tortured myself until I couldn't take it anymore; I wouldn't tell Andrea that, of course, because that's simply unfair, a phenomenal guilt-trip for expressing what she needed to express; and, too, I didn't want to just start listing excuses, because that sounds like I'm trying to whine my way back into her good graces; so all that was left was to say that I was sorry, and mean it, but I don't think that was either good enough or what she needed. So I hid everything from her, and hid myself from her, because I had already hurt myself and I didn't want to be hurt more.
4.5.5. Okay, writing that made me cry. I seem to be quite functional at the moment despite the lack of drugs or therapy, but yeah, in some ways I'm still very fucked up.
5. I'm angry, at times, in little bits; like driftwood, it comes up and goes away and doesn't do much of anything in the end. I will sometimes say something bitter or spiteful, towards Cyn or Caroline or other friends I've lost, while in the company of people who I know will not mind it. Because, yes, there is a little outrage in me: at the hypocrisy I perceive in the relationship (as noted above), at the abruptness of the kicking-out and the cessation of contact, at the assumption Cyn made at the time that we'd still be together at some point in the future, at the assumption Cyn has always seemed to make that she knows better than me, at the sheer absurdity of the final straw being that I went out to dinner with my friends and wasn't sorry for it. At the fact that leaving someone homeless, unemployed, and close to penniless in New England in February because you believe they're as irresponsible and incapable of taking care of themselves as a small child--leaving a small child homeless in Boston in February--is relatively close to attempted murder, and it is in spite of the actions of my lover who I trusted with my life and my heart that I am alive and off the streets. That it is instead because of you, because of my friends who took me in (some of whom were people who Cyn had pushed away in the past), and a little, too, because of my own strength and resourcefulness, which I wasn't believed to have, that I'm in a cozy little room with two cats dozing on my bed, sorting through job leads.
5.5. But I'm only angry at times, and only in a vague and silly sort of way. I give the apartment the finger when I drive past in on rt. 16. I joke about sneaking in and stealing books that Cyn never let me read, but never actually do so. I resent that two women I loved threw me out in the cold like piece of trash when they couldn't deal with me anymore, and I'm not likely to forgive them any time soon, but I don't hate them for it, and I simultaneously hope they're happy with each other and without me and that they realize, someday, that using me as their scapegoat at the risk of my life wasn't necessarily the best or kindest thing to do. I don't suppose that will make sense to some of you, but it is how my brain works.
6. I hate job-hunting. It's endlessly frustrating; I get dead lead after dead lead after dead lead, a few good interviews that never go anywhere and nothing else; it makes me feel useless, unwanted, pathetic, like I'll never be good enough even just to earn a living. I hate having to sell myself and the lies inherent in it. But I'm doing it. I'm trying as hard as I can. The night that Cyn threw me out, the last time she said more than two words to me, we were actually almost civil, as I was slowly packing up my altar and other treasures, and it was just as I was leaving, when she told me that I wasn't trying, that I exploded at her, because it was one of the most infuriating things I'd ever heard. Because I had been trying, very hard. I almost always am. It may not always work, it may not always do any good, but I am trying, damn it; and she wasn't in my head, she had no idea what my internal state was, and she had absolutely no right to say that to me.
6.5. Er, that turned into an irrelevant rant. Sorry.
6.5.5. But I am trying. And I think I'm growing, learning. Very fast, even, in the past few weeks. It's nearly impossible for me to do so without somebody having faith in me--and for a long time I was surrounded by people who didn't, who treated me like I'd never grow up, and so of course, self-fulfilling prophecy, I didn't. But now, I am close to somebody who has faith in me; and I'm starting to be able to have faith in myself. That, I think, could lead into a really rather long post about why I'm being drawn to Thelema right now--which is a post I need to write, oh yes, but not at this exact moment--and I think I may have more things like this that I'll need to post in the future.
Now, in the meantime, I need to go back to job-hunting and pantry-stocking. Must...obtain...food...*stomach growls*
And--I owe some of you very long emails, and all of you more thanks than I can give. I'm not particularly good at being suitably grateful, particularly when I owe so much, but I am. Even if I express things clumsily, even if I come off as cold, or crude, or superficial. Thank you.