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Nearly six and the birds are singing...
Jun. 5th, 2003 05:46 amMorning's crept up on me while I slept (five hours, I need to head back to bed at some point) as it always does seem to. The light's a morning mix of peach and orange and amber and the shadow-line from the horizon is slowly creeping over the trees towards my apartment.
I feel drained and uncertain; poised for something and what that something is I've no idea. Last night was a storm, quick and unhappy, and I'm not sure whether it is a herald of things to come or whether it's on the way to resolution.
When it really, really gets down to the crisis point, when there's no other alternative, I can pull myself together. When I can see that some sort of greater good will be achieved by it I can pull myself together. When I feel disregarded as a person, ignored, unimportant save for the details -- then I feel that there's nothing left to lose and I act accordingly.
I can't feel emotional connections at such times; to me they are, then, completely gone. There really is nothing to lose; I'm in the position where I feel as if they're already lost.
It's sad how easily I give up on so many things. Even when I fight hard for something I've usually given up on it first.
You'll be wondering what's happened. I had a general Bad Day with the SO yesterday, starting just a little bit after the post-running sex. Really I should make sure that I get the contact that I need before sex so I don't spiral off into my 'we fucked, he's on the computer and I can't pry him off, I'm just some sort of receptacle' sort of mindset.
Granted, that crossed my mind last night but it wasn't the driving force.
It culminated in one of those really terrible standoffs about the time he was supposed to leave for work where everyone's feeling so rejected and so frightened that you just can't give even the quarter inch that the other person needs to start -- or at least I felt I was giving a quarter inch and it was being rejected, but you know how those things go.
Somehow it broke, which was good because I really couldn't stand it, and there was maybe a three-minute period of reassurance/reconnection before he had to leave for work for real.
Not long after that The Other Woman saw my last post and called me. She just... was worried, and called. I'm not sure I understand that, or that something like that's ever happened to me before. I don't think anyone's been worried enough to call without a request from me. She'll get used to the downs, I suppose, and in the meantime... I need to think about this. It's strange. It's not just me anymore, you know?
I'm worried about what will happen when she and the Juggler first experience a storm. I really hope it doesn't burn them, and that they don't run screaming. We'll see.
Definitely there's some sort of a free-floating feeling of isolation and rejection hanging around today. I think it has to do with a recent disconnect from the Juggler, where we just haven't had time alone and he's been busy, and the more longstanding disconnect with the SO since this thing began, and the current inability to lean my full weight on the Exotic because I don't feel strength/certainty in that connection and what my asking for help would be interpreted as (sure, I'll be there for you, but only if you have my babies).
So I'm pretty much on my own again despite being festooned with the trappings of intimacy and plenty in every direction. Maybe it'll go away with some sleep, maybe not. It's not a new feeling, it's just been awhile...
On top of that I think I'm screwing up the group dynamic of us four (Juggler, Other Woman, and SO) when we're altogether because of the disconnect with the SO. I can't interact comfortably with him or let him in because it doesn't feel safe, and so I end up turning to the Juggler and the Other Woman for interaction and forcing a pair-off sort of effect.
When other people are having issues it's easy to hide my own behind them. Now they're coming out, though, in all their subtlety. There's major work to be done here and I'm scared to do it. Trust really is leaping off a bridge blindfolded and expecting someone to catch you. Repeatedly. And I've never been much of one for heights.
The little voice inside of me that says everyone always goes away I don't want them to go away please stay where are you going you're all gone.... has been silent for a couple of weeks. I know it can be silenced, for a couple of weeks. There, then, is my starting point.
What I don't understand, though, is how to reconcile trust with the fact that no one can ever be there 100% of the time when you need them. How, then, do you trust, even given that simple anticipation of that abandonment is worse than the event itself? What is 'trust' anyhow? What am I supposed to be trusting people to do?
It would be safer to stay back and love distantly than it is to get tangled up in this whole messy organic mass of compromise and contradiction. Sometimes I think I'd like to do that, to stay back like that. It hasn't come to that, though.
I'll get up presently and go to the garden, to the patio and the few square feet of balcony that hold a riot of living things that really do love and care for me in obvious ways: they grow and thrive beneath my attention, they reliably want mine in return. They do not go away. They do not get confused.
The roses are so beautiful recently. There's such a lavish display of generosity there, beauty given to any who care to look and given even if no one is looking. There's so much given for the taking, nothing held back. I will go, and I'll look and touch and smell, and the morning air will be cool and goosepimples on my skin.
When I am calm, when I have remembered that there are sure things in life, that I myself am a sure thing to myself and that I have, if nothing else, myself to hold on to -- when I have soaked in what my plants are willing to give me -- then I'll go back to bed, alone, and read and perhaps sleep.
I won't think about how I'll feel when the SO comes home, how we may interact, how I may feel ignored or pressured. I won't anticipate. I'll just hold on to the fact that I do have something, no matter what, and begin to go about my day.
Long echoes of the past have shaped me. I have shaped me. It's just a matter of continuing the work with my own hands, deliberately.
Wish me well -- and tell me that there is such a thing in the world as something that lasts, something that's worth remaining vulnerable for. Tell me it can be done.
I feel drained and uncertain; poised for something and what that something is I've no idea. Last night was a storm, quick and unhappy, and I'm not sure whether it is a herald of things to come or whether it's on the way to resolution.
When it really, really gets down to the crisis point, when there's no other alternative, I can pull myself together. When I can see that some sort of greater good will be achieved by it I can pull myself together. When I feel disregarded as a person, ignored, unimportant save for the details -- then I feel that there's nothing left to lose and I act accordingly.
I can't feel emotional connections at such times; to me they are, then, completely gone. There really is nothing to lose; I'm in the position where I feel as if they're already lost.
It's sad how easily I give up on so many things. Even when I fight hard for something I've usually given up on it first.
You'll be wondering what's happened. I had a general Bad Day with the SO yesterday, starting just a little bit after the post-running sex. Really I should make sure that I get the contact that I need before sex so I don't spiral off into my 'we fucked, he's on the computer and I can't pry him off, I'm just some sort of receptacle' sort of mindset.
Granted, that crossed my mind last night but it wasn't the driving force.
It culminated in one of those really terrible standoffs about the time he was supposed to leave for work where everyone's feeling so rejected and so frightened that you just can't give even the quarter inch that the other person needs to start -- or at least I felt I was giving a quarter inch and it was being rejected, but you know how those things go.
Somehow it broke, which was good because I really couldn't stand it, and there was maybe a three-minute period of reassurance/reconnection before he had to leave for work for real.
Not long after that The Other Woman saw my last post and called me. She just... was worried, and called. I'm not sure I understand that, or that something like that's ever happened to me before. I don't think anyone's been worried enough to call without a request from me. She'll get used to the downs, I suppose, and in the meantime... I need to think about this. It's strange. It's not just me anymore, you know?
I'm worried about what will happen when she and the Juggler first experience a storm. I really hope it doesn't burn them, and that they don't run screaming. We'll see.
Definitely there's some sort of a free-floating feeling of isolation and rejection hanging around today. I think it has to do with a recent disconnect from the Juggler, where we just haven't had time alone and he's been busy, and the more longstanding disconnect with the SO since this thing began, and the current inability to lean my full weight on the Exotic because I don't feel strength/certainty in that connection and what my asking for help would be interpreted as (sure, I'll be there for you, but only if you have my babies).
So I'm pretty much on my own again despite being festooned with the trappings of intimacy and plenty in every direction. Maybe it'll go away with some sleep, maybe not. It's not a new feeling, it's just been awhile...
On top of that I think I'm screwing up the group dynamic of us four (Juggler, Other Woman, and SO) when we're altogether because of the disconnect with the SO. I can't interact comfortably with him or let him in because it doesn't feel safe, and so I end up turning to the Juggler and the Other Woman for interaction and forcing a pair-off sort of effect.
When other people are having issues it's easy to hide my own behind them. Now they're coming out, though, in all their subtlety. There's major work to be done here and I'm scared to do it. Trust really is leaping off a bridge blindfolded and expecting someone to catch you. Repeatedly. And I've never been much of one for heights.
The little voice inside of me that says everyone always goes away I don't want them to go away please stay where are you going you're all gone.... has been silent for a couple of weeks. I know it can be silenced, for a couple of weeks. There, then, is my starting point.
What I don't understand, though, is how to reconcile trust with the fact that no one can ever be there 100% of the time when you need them. How, then, do you trust, even given that simple anticipation of that abandonment is worse than the event itself? What is 'trust' anyhow? What am I supposed to be trusting people to do?
It would be safer to stay back and love distantly than it is to get tangled up in this whole messy organic mass of compromise and contradiction. Sometimes I think I'd like to do that, to stay back like that. It hasn't come to that, though.
I'll get up presently and go to the garden, to the patio and the few square feet of balcony that hold a riot of living things that really do love and care for me in obvious ways: they grow and thrive beneath my attention, they reliably want mine in return. They do not go away. They do not get confused.
The roses are so beautiful recently. There's such a lavish display of generosity there, beauty given to any who care to look and given even if no one is looking. There's so much given for the taking, nothing held back. I will go, and I'll look and touch and smell, and the morning air will be cool and goosepimples on my skin.
When I am calm, when I have remembered that there are sure things in life, that I myself am a sure thing to myself and that I have, if nothing else, myself to hold on to -- when I have soaked in what my plants are willing to give me -- then I'll go back to bed, alone, and read and perhaps sleep.
I won't think about how I'll feel when the SO comes home, how we may interact, how I may feel ignored or pressured. I won't anticipate. I'll just hold on to the fact that I do have something, no matter what, and begin to go about my day.
Long echoes of the past have shaped me. I have shaped me. It's just a matter of continuing the work with my own hands, deliberately.
Wish me well -- and tell me that there is such a thing in the world as something that lasts, something that's worth remaining vulnerable for. Tell me it can be done.
