:: Searching for Puck... ::

:: Tuesday, September 02, 2003 ::

(Warning: Philosophical Post)

I don't know if it's this week, or what, but everyone's upset, and usually over signifigant others.

Vince and I had what may be our final argument, I was over Henry's house on Sunday consoling Kirsten over what looks like the end, Mom was in a real bad state earlier Sunday, a friend at work was fighting back tears telling me about her own boyfriend...and the week's not even halfway over.

I got into a real deep emotional valley Sunday night, culminating in Vince affirming that he didn't want to talk to me anymore. After having two women weep bitterly on my shoulder all day, and myself unable to console them, it was really the last thing on earth I needed. My old insecurities drifted up, and when I started to think about self destruction and get into the rapid spiral, I sent Joe a text. I have minimal time when I get like that to grab an anchor, and since I knew Dre was asleep, Joe was my only other choice. All the text said was "I'm not doing so well."...he called about three seconds later. He stayed on the phone with me and listened to me cry and be bitter, and told me that if I needed him, he'd be right over, or I could come stay over his house. I may consider the reasons he broke up with me to be shallow and stupid, but he's taken them back and proven himself where it counts.

I have a very hard time with male anger. Something small and fragile curls up in me and winces every time a man is upset with me. A psychologist has ventured this is because of my father. He was, in my youth, an imposing man, a military man, and although he never laid a hand on me, I sometimes wished that he would, because anything would be better then that thin-lipped silence and stare. Fear of men reaffirmed itself in my wretched first almost-stepfather. He crossed the physical line my father had not, and hurt me often, and would get very drunk and try to kiss me, later claiming that he thought I was my mother. He left, and mom took up with Joe, who would be in a lot of ways like my own father. He uses silence as punishment, leaving the person to their own inner demons of doubt. I left that the first time for Marco, who used a combination of silence, explosive anger, and physical abuse to make his concerns known. A year later, I took up with Dave #2, who would verbally lash at me, laugh as he belittled me, and later force himself on me. After that, Jon, who, of all of them, used silence most effectively to make my stomach twist in agony over whatever transgressions I had. I came home after Jon to my stepfather again, who lit into me about shallow things quite literally before even the tears on my face had dried. A mere four hours after I had gotten home with the car full of my belongings.

And still, after all this time, and no matter how many times I try and ask people to not leave me in the dark, not to punish me with silence, to try and temper their anger lest the message of what they're trying to say is lost in programmed emotional responses, they still do. I can't ask the world to change because of my past, but when I know someone has a touchy reaction to an approach, I do my best not to use it, or catch myself if I do.

It's been a hard year for me. Recently, a year passed since Jon broke up with me the first time. Another two months, it will be a year since I left. The memories come whether I bid them or not, and the best I can do is keep busy and hope they don't catch up too often. Sometimes, I think I miss him, but if I do, it's the man I lived with for that time, not the man who broke up with me. He's been changed in my mind, and I can say honestly that if he showed up on my doorstep tomorrow, I couldn't find it in me to take him back. The numerous crash-and-burn relationships I've had over the year have taught me more about what I need in a guy then anything else - and Jon just isn't it. None of my exes are. That's why they're exes. Seems simple, but I'm only just now realizing it.

I miss the lives I've had, the independence I've had, the friends I've had....but not the men. When people enter our lives, it is to teach us something. When they leave, it is to teach us something more meaningful. Happiness is a very quick lesson, but learning sadness takes a lifetime.

~Fox


:: Fox 9/02/2003 09:30:00 AM [Say what?] ::
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