Even though I am right in the middle of some of the nastiest blues I have experienced in quite some time, I think that I am - ultimately an opitimist. Or at least an idealist.
I believe in such things as true love, soul mates, magic. I believe in tribes and families and home. I think that people can love for a lifetime, and that true joy and happiness are real possibilities.
I also think that maybe I have a few intimacy issues, and I choose others who have the same.
My friends (male friends - I might add) - who occasionally talk me through me relationship woes, always get to the point - "What do you WANT"? If I tell you, please don't laugh at me, because it sounds really really stupid.
I want to love and to be loved, in somewhat equal measure. I want to be with someone who feels like he is my home.
Truth be told though, I think that this will never happen, because I think if thats what I really wanted, thats exactly what I would have. Maybe next life? Are all my love affairs this time round going to be "almost, but not quite?" I've been greatly loved, by people who I just couldn't love enough in return. I have loved greatly, but only people who are just not quite... available.
What happens when an optimist runs out of hope?
The maddening, infuriating thing about the current romantic speactacular is this: On those few occasions, where we really touch - I feel like I have woken up. And then I am furious, because I don't WANT to go back to sleep.
I know the rain clouds will eventually disperse, and I will find myself again. But I don't have time for this sad stuff right now... it's a luxury I cannot afford. This happens EVERY time Nick comes to visit. He leaves, and I feel like my soul has just been sucked out again. I hate myself, my life, and I doubt everyone and everything in it.
Perhaps I should go back on anti-depressants, just for when he is here.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
On Being an Ice Princess
For some reason, its been a troubling week or so for me. My mind is running at full bore, refusing to be disciplined, refusing to concentrate at given tasks that I need to do. Sometimes this is just neurosis, but sometimes it means I need to pay attention. Often, I am avoiding something important, and becoming upset with situations that have little or nothing to do with what is actually "wrong".
A few weeks ago, while playing in the personal dramas inside my mind, Mama'Laine said something important to me. She said... and I paraphrase, that I cannot really begin something new until I have resolved the old things that are running my life. In this case, she was speaking of Nick. That somehow, I need to come to terms with the dissoulution of my marriage, and for the sake of Spike - we need to be friends.
She accused me of being outraged. Of being angry. But - I swear, my anger is not the cause of my behavior. When I am angry, I'm pretty loud. What I am is this: I'm frozen.
Freezing is what I do when I am afraid. I go cold. I turn to stone. I become an ice princess. Remote, arrogant, immovable. From the outside, its very fearsome - like the way a cat, when threatened, can double in size by puffing out its fur.
When I was younger, this was my perpetual state. I remember the first time I was told that others believed I was arrogant and cold - and how shocked I was. Because I was never really arrogant, I didn't have that much self-esteem. What I was was simply terrified. Fortunately, I rarely treat strangers this way any more - I save it now for people I care about.
I even know the origin of this. Blame Simon and Garfunkel.
Now, only a rather romantic teenager could adopt this as a life philosophy. But adopt it I did. It got me through ages 11 and 12 and 13 and 14 - all the way into 44. And bless me, it worked. It kept me safe. I stayed behind my walls, and I felt nothing, for a very long time.
Sometimes, someone would catch me off guard, and they could come in - but for the most part, I stayed numb and frozen. I did learn to love, but it took a lot to gain my trust. I did make friends, but honestly - they were only guards whom I trusted to protect the fortress walls.
Then, I met Elaine and Rhoberta. Slowly - ever so slowly, I came out of my tower, and mostly I got better. I stopped being always afraid of everyone and everything... I started making genuine freindships that weren't between the adored princess and trusty servant.
But, when I am afraid, I go to my tower and I hide. I go numb. I become imperious and demanding and cold, and unapproachable. What can I say? It works.
But you know what happens if you are an ice princess? You can't MOVE. You're STUCK. It's uncomfortable. Nothing changes.
Now - why am I so afraid of Nick? Well - he betrayed my trust. He rescued the princess in the tower, but he did it not for true love, but simply to get the jewelry. He hurt me as much as any other human ever has, and more than I will ever allow another human to do again. (thats a pretty promise now... isn't it?) It's NOT about the anger. If I wasn't frozen, I could process the anger. It isn't about the outrage... though his actions were pretty outrageous.
Its really about the fear that I trusted him once, and he nearly shattered me - and if I let him in, even an inch, he might find a way to do it again. He has proven himself dangerous, as well as disloyal and untrustworthy. I'm not sure how to keep myself safe, and still let him back into my life... it is better to feel nothing at all... unless... unless... unless.....
I change the paradigm. I re-imagine the mythology. I find a better philosophy than one written for an adolescent girl.
I know what I NEED to do, but I do not know where to find the courage. I need to allow myself to remember, that despite the fact that he is a complete fuck, I did like him once upon a time. The fact that he was a complete fuck wasn't hidden from my view for the entire 18 odd years that I loved him... I knew he was a jerk, and I loved him anyway. He has many good qualities, in and amongst his dysfunctional and narcississtic personality disorders. We were, even when I was an imaginary princess - really truly freinds (or I think we must have been....)
He's smart. He is capable of stunning acts of kindness. He really cares about things that are paramount to me; social justice, helping the helpless, the plight of the worlds children - and most importantly - he cares about our son.
Somehow, I need to be able to look at him again, and remember and value the things about him that are really truely admirable, and have compassion for all the places he is broken and unhealed.... and somehow let this soften and open my heart, instead of freezing it and making it smaller.
Because as much as I like it, being a princess in a tower just isnt working anymore. It still hurts. I don't feel safe, no matter how high these walls are, no matter how many guards are at the door. And living in a tower isnt really a life anyway, not when I need to move on and see the rest of the world.
A few weeks ago, while playing in the personal dramas inside my mind, Mama'Laine said something important to me. She said... and I paraphrase, that I cannot really begin something new until I have resolved the old things that are running my life. In this case, she was speaking of Nick. That somehow, I need to come to terms with the dissoulution of my marriage, and for the sake of Spike - we need to be friends.
She accused me of being outraged. Of being angry. But - I swear, my anger is not the cause of my behavior. When I am angry, I'm pretty loud. What I am is this: I'm frozen.
Freezing is what I do when I am afraid. I go cold. I turn to stone. I become an ice princess. Remote, arrogant, immovable. From the outside, its very fearsome - like the way a cat, when threatened, can double in size by puffing out its fur.
When I was younger, this was my perpetual state. I remember the first time I was told that others believed I was arrogant and cold - and how shocked I was. Because I was never really arrogant, I didn't have that much self-esteem. What I was was simply terrified. Fortunately, I rarely treat strangers this way any more - I save it now for people I care about.
I even know the origin of this. Blame Simon and Garfunkel.
A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window
to the streets below
On a freshly fallen
silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock, I am an island.
I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship;
friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.I am a rock, I am an island.
Don't talk of love,
But I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber
of feelings that have died.
If I never loved
I never would have cried.
I am a rock,I am an island.
I have my books
And my poetry
to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room,
safe within my womb.
I touch no one and
no one touches me.
Iam a rock,
Iam an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
Now, only a rather romantic teenager could adopt this as a life philosophy. But adopt it I did. It got me through ages 11 and 12 and 13 and 14 - all the way into 44. And bless me, it worked. It kept me safe. I stayed behind my walls, and I felt nothing, for a very long time.
Sometimes, someone would catch me off guard, and they could come in - but for the most part, I stayed numb and frozen. I did learn to love, but it took a lot to gain my trust. I did make friends, but honestly - they were only guards whom I trusted to protect the fortress walls.
Then, I met Elaine and Rhoberta. Slowly - ever so slowly, I came out of my tower, and mostly I got better. I stopped being always afraid of everyone and everything... I started making genuine freindships that weren't between the adored princess and trusty servant.
But, when I am afraid, I go to my tower and I hide. I go numb. I become imperious and demanding and cold, and unapproachable. What can I say? It works.
But you know what happens if you are an ice princess? You can't MOVE. You're STUCK. It's uncomfortable. Nothing changes.
Now - why am I so afraid of Nick? Well - he betrayed my trust. He rescued the princess in the tower, but he did it not for true love, but simply to get the jewelry. He hurt me as much as any other human ever has, and more than I will ever allow another human to do again. (thats a pretty promise now... isn't it?) It's NOT about the anger. If I wasn't frozen, I could process the anger. It isn't about the outrage... though his actions were pretty outrageous.
Its really about the fear that I trusted him once, and he nearly shattered me - and if I let him in, even an inch, he might find a way to do it again. He has proven himself dangerous, as well as disloyal and untrustworthy. I'm not sure how to keep myself safe, and still let him back into my life... it is better to feel nothing at all... unless... unless... unless.....
I change the paradigm. I re-imagine the mythology. I find a better philosophy than one written for an adolescent girl.
I know what I NEED to do, but I do not know where to find the courage. I need to allow myself to remember, that despite the fact that he is a complete fuck, I did like him once upon a time. The fact that he was a complete fuck wasn't hidden from my view for the entire 18 odd years that I loved him... I knew he was a jerk, and I loved him anyway. He has many good qualities, in and amongst his dysfunctional and narcississtic personality disorders. We were, even when I was an imaginary princess - really truly freinds (or I think we must have been....)
He's smart. He is capable of stunning acts of kindness. He really cares about things that are paramount to me; social justice, helping the helpless, the plight of the worlds children - and most importantly - he cares about our son.
Somehow, I need to be able to look at him again, and remember and value the things about him that are really truely admirable, and have compassion for all the places he is broken and unhealed.... and somehow let this soften and open my heart, instead of freezing it and making it smaller.
Because as much as I like it, being a princess in a tower just isnt working anymore. It still hurts. I don't feel safe, no matter how high these walls are, no matter how many guards are at the door. And living in a tower isnt really a life anyway, not when I need to move on and see the rest of the world.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Love or something like it....
I think it is time for me to give it all up. Stop shaving my legs and underarms, find a good store that carries sweat pants and caftans, and adopt a few dozen cats. This whole love and romance thing is simply beyond me.
When did this all get so hard? How is it that something so primary and joyful as love is so fucking difficult? What happens between first love, when you wake up every morning and your beloved makes your entire world a better place - to now, when the thought of loving someone makes your stomach hurt and makes you want to chuck the whole thing and become a crazy cat lady instead?
And if its this hard.... can it possibly actually be love? Isnt the whole love thing supposed to be like a hole you fall into? Of course, by the time one reaches a certain age, one has experience of just falling into that hole a few times, and finding that the hole is not just a hole, but a trap - and getting back out of it is way harder than falling in.
So, you stand over the hole, weighing the pros and cons - deciding whether or not its OK to jump - all the while, popular culture is telling you that if it IS love, you'd already be in that hole without thinking twice.
Am I even making any sense here? Maybe some context would help.
I think I love someone. He thinks he loves me. If I knew he loved me, I would stop thinking about it (I think).... but we are both of an age where we both have some experience. And both of us are alike in this.... we don't want any repeats of past failures.
I don't want to love someone who doesn't love me. Been there. Done that. Yet, here I go again, loving someone who isnt sure he loves me. And I gotta ask myself.... do I love him (or think I do) just because he isn't sure? Am I, yet again, trying to fix the things that hurt me in the past? Is there a hurt little kid inside, reaching out for something out of reach, trying to make an emotionally unavailable person finally love me? Am I trying to force something here to counter some deep internal fear that I am unlovable and undeserving of real committed love?
I profess to him, in my oh-so-wise ways, that this releationship is REALLY something new and different. Is this the truth? or is this just me repeating the mistakes of the past hoping for a new and different outcome?
Oh lord, I am pathetic. God, why did you have to go and give me a female brain? Is this overthinking your punishment because Eve decided to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil? Isnt this just a little bit unfair?
Now.... lets go back to the world of observable reality, instead of all the tapes and monologues that play inside my febrile female mind:
Ale and I had this wonderful time in New York. We really like each other. Its fun to be together. We respect each other. We are careful of each other. Both of us are behaving with integrity and honesty - I am really proud of how we are behaving. This is a good man, and this is a good relationship.
Last night was the first time I had seen him since the trip. He was strange and distant. Something seemed "off". We made love, and though the physicality was as wondrous as always, it was distant.
I asked - "hey what's up?" To which he replied that the whole 'love' thing scares him. Now, I dont really know if this means that his feelings scare him, or that my stating my feelings is scary. I assumed the first, but now I am not so sure. However, now that I think of it, I would bet that its a bit of both.
(Hey - Ale, if you are reading this.... would you REALLY prefer that I not have these feelings for you? Scary though they may be? Nah, thought not.)
He also told me he tells everyone about me, that we are fine, and that I shouldn't worry. Do you know what this means in 'man speak'? That he is really taking this seriously, that I am important to him, and that I really shouldn't worry. (this is what I really like best about men.... they aren't that complicated.)
But worry I do. Because I want us to put our pro con lists aside. I want to just jump in that hole together, and find out if it's yet another trap - or if it might just be the rabbit hole into wonderland. I want to chase the white rabbit, and see if there is a whole new world to explore. I want to stop weighing what is right, and what could be wrong, and just revel in loving someone, and in knowing I am loved in return. I want to wake up to a world that is a better place, just because Alessio is in it.
Of course, I am also the type of girl - who when she is reading a really scary mystery story - skips to the end of the book to find out what happens, just to make sure that there is a happy ending after all.
When did this all get so hard? How is it that something so primary and joyful as love is so fucking difficult? What happens between first love, when you wake up every morning and your beloved makes your entire world a better place - to now, when the thought of loving someone makes your stomach hurt and makes you want to chuck the whole thing and become a crazy cat lady instead?
And if its this hard.... can it possibly actually be love? Isnt the whole love thing supposed to be like a hole you fall into? Of course, by the time one reaches a certain age, one has experience of just falling into that hole a few times, and finding that the hole is not just a hole, but a trap - and getting back out of it is way harder than falling in.
So, you stand over the hole, weighing the pros and cons - deciding whether or not its OK to jump - all the while, popular culture is telling you that if it IS love, you'd already be in that hole without thinking twice.
Am I even making any sense here? Maybe some context would help.
I think I love someone. He thinks he loves me. If I knew he loved me, I would stop thinking about it (I think).... but we are both of an age where we both have some experience. And both of us are alike in this.... we don't want any repeats of past failures.
I don't want to love someone who doesn't love me. Been there. Done that. Yet, here I go again, loving someone who isnt sure he loves me. And I gotta ask myself.... do I love him (or think I do) just because he isn't sure? Am I, yet again, trying to fix the things that hurt me in the past? Is there a hurt little kid inside, reaching out for something out of reach, trying to make an emotionally unavailable person finally love me? Am I trying to force something here to counter some deep internal fear that I am unlovable and undeserving of real committed love?
I profess to him, in my oh-so-wise ways, that this releationship is REALLY something new and different. Is this the truth? or is this just me repeating the mistakes of the past hoping for a new and different outcome?
Oh lord, I am pathetic. God, why did you have to go and give me a female brain? Is this overthinking your punishment because Eve decided to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil? Isnt this just a little bit unfair?
Now.... lets go back to the world of observable reality, instead of all the tapes and monologues that play inside my febrile female mind:
Ale and I had this wonderful time in New York. We really like each other. Its fun to be together. We respect each other. We are careful of each other. Both of us are behaving with integrity and honesty - I am really proud of how we are behaving. This is a good man, and this is a good relationship.
Last night was the first time I had seen him since the trip. He was strange and distant. Something seemed "off". We made love, and though the physicality was as wondrous as always, it was distant.
I asked - "hey what's up?" To which he replied that the whole 'love' thing scares him. Now, I dont really know if this means that his feelings scare him, or that my stating my feelings is scary. I assumed the first, but now I am not so sure. However, now that I think of it, I would bet that its a bit of both.
(Hey - Ale, if you are reading this.... would you REALLY prefer that I not have these feelings for you? Scary though they may be? Nah, thought not.)
He also told me he tells everyone about me, that we are fine, and that I shouldn't worry. Do you know what this means in 'man speak'? That he is really taking this seriously, that I am important to him, and that I really shouldn't worry. (this is what I really like best about men.... they aren't that complicated.)
But worry I do. Because I want us to put our pro con lists aside. I want to just jump in that hole together, and find out if it's yet another trap - or if it might just be the rabbit hole into wonderland. I want to chase the white rabbit, and see if there is a whole new world to explore. I want to stop weighing what is right, and what could be wrong, and just revel in loving someone, and in knowing I am loved in return. I want to wake up to a world that is a better place, just because Alessio is in it.
Of course, I am also the type of girl - who when she is reading a really scary mystery story - skips to the end of the book to find out what happens, just to make sure that there is a happy ending after all.
"it is hard to be brave," said piglet, sniffing slightly, "when you're
only a Very Small Animal."
A. A. Milne (1882 - 1956)
British writer
Winnie the Pooh, 1926, "Kanga and Baby Roo"
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Losing Mama
I remember, once upon a time, having a mother. I remember being taken care of - at least a little - and, if not ever feeling secure - at least loving my mother passionately.
Then, I remember a man coming along and taking my mother away from me... and no matter how nice he was to me (and he was nice to me when I was very very little - at least from time to time) I remember the horrified feeling I had when they phoned us one day and announced that they had been married.
Shortly after this, I remember the hugs and kisses from my mother stopping, the bedtime stories stopping, and his turning on me - and his turning my mother against me. I went from being her dolly (it wasnt good, really - but it was something) to being a "spoiled brat".
I didn't lose my mama all at once, but over time. Not a long time, it was a pretty fast seduction and abandonment - and I never really understood how it could have happened. How could a mother leave her own child for a man?
Does my past control me, or simply inform me? Am I making decisions that are based on the fear of repeating my mothers mistakes, or are my mothers mistakes giving me wisdom - and how do I know the difference?
As important to me as the concept of home, love, and family are - I have pretty much decided that I will not marry again. Or - at least, I will not live with another man. Spike has a father,
and no matter what my needs may be, I will not subject him to a stepfather. I would like a life partner, but Spike's home is with me.
I am, for the moment, secure in this decision.
However, now I am finding myself in a very difficult situation. I am beginning to love someone - and even beginning to trust him. Needs I have supressed for a long time are being met, and he makes me really happy. Most of the time.... but...... I am a package deal. He is not entirely comfortable with this.
I feel that sometimes, in order to get what I need or want, he wants me to choose between him and Spike. Not out of maliciousness, or evil (he is not my stepfather) - but because he is not quite ready to be involved with my son. He feels, I think, that it is important for us to have time together to be established, or not, as a couple. Also, I think he is frightened about getting involved with any one's child, for reasons I don't quite understand.
Now, honestly - he may be right. He has been right about a lot of things so far. He forced me to take this slow. He has balanced my impulsiveness, and I think that maybe this has not been a bad thing. That he cares for me I do not doubt. That he is taking this all pretty seriously is clear.....
I would like to believe that the issue is that he doesnt want to play musical chairs with Spike's affections, and that he is simply being cautious and taking the whole subject of commitment very carefully - and this may be some of it. But also, he simply is just uncomfortable with children in general.
This is a very very very bad thing.... and it scares me deeply.
This is going to be the thing that ends it. Is this my fear speaking? Or is this Wisdom? And how do I know the difference?
And in his case.... is it fear, or wisdom? How do I know, and what do I trust?
I do not like compartamentalizing my life, nor can I tolerate the sensation of needing to choose between a man I may love, and a child who is my life. And more than anything else at all... I never ever ever want my baby to think I have left him for a stranger. To betray my child in such a way would be something I could never live with.
Then, I remember a man coming along and taking my mother away from me... and no matter how nice he was to me (and he was nice to me when I was very very little - at least from time to time) I remember the horrified feeling I had when they phoned us one day and announced that they had been married.
Shortly after this, I remember the hugs and kisses from my mother stopping, the bedtime stories stopping, and his turning on me - and his turning my mother against me. I went from being her dolly (it wasnt good, really - but it was something) to being a "spoiled brat".
I didn't lose my mama all at once, but over time. Not a long time, it was a pretty fast seduction and abandonment - and I never really understood how it could have happened. How could a mother leave her own child for a man?
Does my past control me, or simply inform me? Am I making decisions that are based on the fear of repeating my mothers mistakes, or are my mothers mistakes giving me wisdom - and how do I know the difference?
As important to me as the concept of home, love, and family are - I have pretty much decided that I will not marry again. Or - at least, I will not live with another man. Spike has a father,
and no matter what my needs may be, I will not subject him to a stepfather. I would like a life partner, but Spike's home is with me.
I am, for the moment, secure in this decision.
However, now I am finding myself in a very difficult situation. I am beginning to love someone - and even beginning to trust him. Needs I have supressed for a long time are being met, and he makes me really happy. Most of the time.... but...... I am a package deal. He is not entirely comfortable with this.
I feel that sometimes, in order to get what I need or want, he wants me to choose between him and Spike. Not out of maliciousness, or evil (he is not my stepfather) - but because he is not quite ready to be involved with my son. He feels, I think, that it is important for us to have time together to be established, or not, as a couple. Also, I think he is frightened about getting involved with any one's child, for reasons I don't quite understand.
Now, honestly - he may be right. He has been right about a lot of things so far. He forced me to take this slow. He has balanced my impulsiveness, and I think that maybe this has not been a bad thing. That he cares for me I do not doubt. That he is taking this all pretty seriously is clear.....
I would like to believe that the issue is that he doesnt want to play musical chairs with Spike's affections, and that he is simply being cautious and taking the whole subject of commitment very carefully - and this may be some of it. But also, he simply is just uncomfortable with children in general.
This is a very very very bad thing.... and it scares me deeply.
This is going to be the thing that ends it. Is this my fear speaking? Or is this Wisdom? And how do I know the difference?
And in his case.... is it fear, or wisdom? How do I know, and what do I trust?
I do not like compartamentalizing my life, nor can I tolerate the sensation of needing to choose between a man I may love, and a child who is my life. And more than anything else at all... I never ever ever want my baby to think I have left him for a stranger. To betray my child in such a way would be something I could never live with.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Big Girls Don't Cry
Give me a crisis. I like emergencies. When something is really wrong, I am the coolest cat around. Focused, intent, calm. I thrive in extraordinary circumstances. I NEVER panic, I never get hysterical, and I pretty much always know what to do.
The "hassles of daily life", however, well... I don't do so well with those. Laundry stresses me out - and balancing a checkbook? Feggitaboutit.
Now, of course, the why of this is obvious... I grew up in a war zone. I'm good at it. But - 25 years now and counting, I still do not know what the appropriate emotional response to life's normal stressors are. I try and ask others "what do 'normal' people do in this situation" - but, they really don't even comprehend my question. I know it comes off as whining, this search for how I am actually supposed to be and feel in 'normal' situations, but its not whining. I REALLY don't know.
My friends, particularly my single mother friends, view me as a paragon of strength. "You're so strong" blah blah blah. I've been hearing some variation on this my whole life.
NO I am not. I simply don't know how to show my emotions, until the internal pressure reaches a boiling point .... at which point I simply become morose and depressed. Being 'emotional' is bad. Its feminine. Its unstable. And honestly, I don't actually know how to be emotional.
Case in point; someone broke a date with me. I was really upset. REALLY upset. Feeling kind of fragile, and believing I had shared that fragility, I was over the top.... or so I thought. So - I apologized for being so upset and being a ball buster. To which he said "Huh?" (Okay - I might be feeling morose right now... but that's really kind of funny.)
When the big Ms. A decided to attack me in public, over how I made her "feel" - all I could do is sit and listen while she hurt me. I was unable to defend myself, because I was trying to be rational with someone who was being completely irrational. I jumped through hoops in my head to stay cool and try and logically see what was wrong.... the appropriate response was to fight back. But when faced with that sort of irrational rage, I simply didn't know how.
I can be very passionate when it comes to politics, ideas, intellectual pursuits. When it comes to things like that... I can fight, argue, defend myself - using facts, rationality, intellect. But when it comes to my emotional life, feelings, interpersonal communications - things where facts and logic don't apply, I am simply retarded.
I wonder what it would feel like to be outraged, and EXPRESS it clearly. I wonder how my world would change if - just every now and then - I could bust someones balls, attack someone just because they were being horrid to me, feel unfettered joy and show it.... throw an irrational temper tantrum.... or cry, just because I am sad?
How do men achieve this, limited as they are to only being allowed to express anger? Of course, being female - I am forbidden this as well. So, somehow I have managed to limit not only the allowable range of female emotions (lest I appear unstable), but I am culturally cut off from my anger too.
Now - of course I FEEL these things, and I feel them deeply. I feel love, and hope, and joy, anger, rage, and despair. But I don't show it. (And, honestly, I try and avoid joy.... because that is something that can be taken away....)
So - when I feel real fear I call it "nervous". When I am deeply miserable - I am "unsettled" or "sad". When I am outraged, I show concern and am usually apologetic about it. Anger and outrage are the worst for me, because those are dangerous, and they can get you hurt.
So, when I cry, I spill out my words. But only here. Well crafted and well thought out as they are... each word I type today is one misplaced tear.
And each tear makes me feel ashamed. Because Big Girls Don't Cry.
The "hassles of daily life", however, well... I don't do so well with those. Laundry stresses me out - and balancing a checkbook? Feggitaboutit.
Now, of course, the why of this is obvious... I grew up in a war zone. I'm good at it. But - 25 years now and counting, I still do not know what the appropriate emotional response to life's normal stressors are. I try and ask others "what do 'normal' people do in this situation" - but, they really don't even comprehend my question. I know it comes off as whining, this search for how I am actually supposed to be and feel in 'normal' situations, but its not whining. I REALLY don't know.
My friends, particularly my single mother friends, view me as a paragon of strength. "You're so strong" blah blah blah. I've been hearing some variation on this my whole life.
NO I am not. I simply don't know how to show my emotions, until the internal pressure reaches a boiling point .... at which point I simply become morose and depressed. Being 'emotional' is bad. Its feminine. Its unstable. And honestly, I don't actually know how to be emotional.
Case in point; someone broke a date with me. I was really upset. REALLY upset. Feeling kind of fragile, and believing I had shared that fragility, I was over the top.... or so I thought. So - I apologized for being so upset and being a ball buster. To which he said "Huh?" (Okay - I might be feeling morose right now... but that's really kind of funny.)
When the big Ms. A decided to attack me in public, over how I made her "feel" - all I could do is sit and listen while she hurt me. I was unable to defend myself, because I was trying to be rational with someone who was being completely irrational. I jumped through hoops in my head to stay cool and try and logically see what was wrong.... the appropriate response was to fight back. But when faced with that sort of irrational rage, I simply didn't know how.
I can be very passionate when it comes to politics, ideas, intellectual pursuits. When it comes to things like that... I can fight, argue, defend myself - using facts, rationality, intellect. But when it comes to my emotional life, feelings, interpersonal communications - things where facts and logic don't apply, I am simply retarded.
I wonder what it would feel like to be outraged, and EXPRESS it clearly. I wonder how my world would change if - just every now and then - I could bust someones balls, attack someone just because they were being horrid to me, feel unfettered joy and show it.... throw an irrational temper tantrum.... or cry, just because I am sad?
How do men achieve this, limited as they are to only being allowed to express anger? Of course, being female - I am forbidden this as well. So, somehow I have managed to limit not only the allowable range of female emotions (lest I appear unstable), but I am culturally cut off from my anger too.
Now - of course I FEEL these things, and I feel them deeply. I feel love, and hope, and joy, anger, rage, and despair. But I don't show it. (And, honestly, I try and avoid joy.... because that is something that can be taken away....)
So - when I feel real fear I call it "nervous". When I am deeply miserable - I am "unsettled" or "sad". When I am outraged, I show concern and am usually apologetic about it. Anger and outrage are the worst for me, because those are dangerous, and they can get you hurt.
So, when I cry, I spill out my words. But only here. Well crafted and well thought out as they are... each word I type today is one misplaced tear.
And each tear makes me feel ashamed. Because Big Girls Don't Cry.