Brutal Stability
May. 29th, 2003 12:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormBeautiful day. Lazy skin-temperature summer warmth with cottonwood fluff floating everywhere. Sunny, perfect, my roses are blooming, my plants need me to be their mommy. Unbeliebable. Book-reading naked on the sofa in a stripe of sunlight, or on wreck beach, weather.
Okay, so you have a seesaw. The kind that's basically a board put over the bar in the middle with a seat on either end. It comes with the basic Life Package Deal.
If you're the only one on the thing you can do whatever the hell you want. You bash yourself up, sure, but hey? So what. You can climb up one edge -- carefully -- and stand in the middle and make it go back and forth and back and forth so the ends whip wildly around. You can sleep on it.
Then you start adding other people. And the other people are all on their own seesaws. Stick them on the ends and the ends start jerking up and down if they do and you're left standing there in the middle trying to keep your balance.
This sounds fun, right? It is fun. But if you care about these people suddenly there you are trying to stand up and keep your balance without pushing them off the seesaw and without jiggling your own too much to get in the way of theirs. The one big balancing act metaphor extended? Make sense? No, good.
That's the long way of saying that I feel a responsibility to keep control of my emotions when it impacts the people I love. Duh, you say? Well, no. This idea of being completely accountable to myself for my actions, the idea that I have control of my actions -- and so whatever I do is mine, my own, and not someone else's fault -- that's a big one. What gets to me is that it seems to be internalised first, and now I'm starting to intellectually realise it's there.
This is not a feeling or a thing I can take for granted. This is something completely new, completely strange, completely beautiful -- this is the fact that there are things in the world that are important besides me and that's something I can't really grasp in words and hold out to you. That's something that just is inside me now and that I would never, never, never have believed any human could achieve if you asked me when I was fifteen. To care about someone enough to alter your behaviour, even if it hurts? To put off gratification for something? Pfah! Humans weren't like that, then.
So this is what's been happening lately, two examples:
This morning during my date (yes, I'm on a roleplaying date with the Exotic still and talking on livejournal at the same time) I started talking about my weekend plans with the Exotic. I'm going over to the Juggler and the Other Woman's place: they have my garden, there's lots of talk there, it's in the city where I feel more connected, there are things we want to get done. I have kind of spent the last two weeks more or less straight there. (Two and a half? Who knows). He misses me when I'm gone even though I can get in contact with him there and he with me -- we won't go into why. So he says:
I can't promise you I won't break down this weekend.
I hear:
Don't go over this weekend, stop seeing the Juggler, stay home and do nothing to reassure me, give up your interests.
I get mad. Not a little mad, really truly angry. Now this is where I'd normally be flapping that seesaw back and forth. But instead what do I do? I say.... I'm angry, I don't know what to say. We switch from internet to telephone. I whine for about five minutes miserably, then I say:
I realise you're not asking me not to do anything, you're just trying to warn me so that I know in advance and can make decisions accordingly.
Which is, really, no more than the honest truth. What does this mean?
It means I never got a good chance to get angry at the Exotic. I never got to yell and scream. I never got to show him 'my side' of the story -- there was no my side. There was just him trying to be helpful, and me... cooperating, even though it was not the greatest piece of news I'd ever heard because I want him to be happy. What the hell sort of monster of self-control climbs down off a good mad in order to understand something that limits her and help another person feel better? Where did I learn to do it? How? Why is it that even when I realised I was doing it I didn't stop, but continued instead to be reasonable?
Now that I can do this it means that I have to. It's empowering to be able to do it, but it would be liberating to not take responsibility for it and just do whatever the hell I felt like because it wasn't my fault.
The other story comes right down to sex, pure and simple.
The Juggler and I are practicing controlled escalation of our relationship, at least in a purely arbitrary-social-physical-hierarchy sense whereby, say, oral sex is ruled as somehow less high on the scale than penetration/intercourse. This is because it helps the Exotic to deal with the fact that it's happening far away and he feels left out. Basically, the Exotic lets me know when something is okay and them I'm free to escalate to that point.
If I were given free preference I'd be escalating a lot more quickly than I am.
So sometimes, on the phone, while I'm sitting there beside the Juggler, the Exotic will tell me, 'I think it's okay for you to have actual sex now.'
What do I do? Do I pounce on that, take him up on the offer, hang up quickly, indulge? No, I do not. I say, 'think about it for a little bit and put it in writing in an email to the group, I don't want you to be pushed or rushed.' Heartbreakingly, I did this because I thought he might change his mind. And he did.
And I'm obeying those guidelines. I'm not squidging around them, I'm not stepping over them just a little, I'm not ignoring them because if he's going to say yes sooner or later it doesn't matter when it starts.
Talk about self-denial. Talk about compensating for someone else's stuff gently, about not taking advantage of weak moments, about not pressing for something I'd really like, about...
When did I learn to do this stuff? Who is doing this stuff? I'm not a good enough person, I'm not a strong enough person, to do this well. So what's going on?
What's going on is the web. What's going on is that my insecurity and fear of losing these people is pushing me to do good things so that I'm worthy of them. There are so many awesome people in my life. If I do something really stupid they'll all see it, all hear about it, and all judge me accordingly. It's not just a matter of one person getting messed up by something I do -- it's a matter of losing everything, and suddenly everything seems like a lot. This is me living up to standards. It's incredible.
And it is, in some ways, terrible. Owning all this stuff means I'll never have a day where I can just do whatever I want, whenever I want, no matter what it is. There are always other people to consider, always other feelings to keep in mind, always this goodness in me to live up to. It's brutal. I'm literally forced to do this, by myself, and from myself I have no escape.
I guess this is life, grown-up style. Let's see how well I can do.
Okay, so you have a seesaw. The kind that's basically a board put over the bar in the middle with a seat on either end. It comes with the basic Life Package Deal.
If you're the only one on the thing you can do whatever the hell you want. You bash yourself up, sure, but hey? So what. You can climb up one edge -- carefully -- and stand in the middle and make it go back and forth and back and forth so the ends whip wildly around. You can sleep on it.
Then you start adding other people. And the other people are all on their own seesaws. Stick them on the ends and the ends start jerking up and down if they do and you're left standing there in the middle trying to keep your balance.
This sounds fun, right? It is fun. But if you care about these people suddenly there you are trying to stand up and keep your balance without pushing them off the seesaw and without jiggling your own too much to get in the way of theirs. The one big balancing act metaphor extended? Make sense? No, good.
That's the long way of saying that I feel a responsibility to keep control of my emotions when it impacts the people I love. Duh, you say? Well, no. This idea of being completely accountable to myself for my actions, the idea that I have control of my actions -- and so whatever I do is mine, my own, and not someone else's fault -- that's a big one. What gets to me is that it seems to be internalised first, and now I'm starting to intellectually realise it's there.
This is not a feeling or a thing I can take for granted. This is something completely new, completely strange, completely beautiful -- this is the fact that there are things in the world that are important besides me and that's something I can't really grasp in words and hold out to you. That's something that just is inside me now and that I would never, never, never have believed any human could achieve if you asked me when I was fifteen. To care about someone enough to alter your behaviour, even if it hurts? To put off gratification for something? Pfah! Humans weren't like that, then.
So this is what's been happening lately, two examples:
This morning during my date (yes, I'm on a roleplaying date with the Exotic still and talking on livejournal at the same time) I started talking about my weekend plans with the Exotic. I'm going over to the Juggler and the Other Woman's place: they have my garden, there's lots of talk there, it's in the city where I feel more connected, there are things we want to get done. I have kind of spent the last two weeks more or less straight there. (Two and a half? Who knows). He misses me when I'm gone even though I can get in contact with him there and he with me -- we won't go into why. So he says:
I can't promise you I won't break down this weekend.
I hear:
Don't go over this weekend, stop seeing the Juggler, stay home and do nothing to reassure me, give up your interests.
I get mad. Not a little mad, really truly angry. Now this is where I'd normally be flapping that seesaw back and forth. But instead what do I do? I say.... I'm angry, I don't know what to say. We switch from internet to telephone. I whine for about five minutes miserably, then I say:
I realise you're not asking me not to do anything, you're just trying to warn me so that I know in advance and can make decisions accordingly.
Which is, really, no more than the honest truth. What does this mean?
It means I never got a good chance to get angry at the Exotic. I never got to yell and scream. I never got to show him 'my side' of the story -- there was no my side. There was just him trying to be helpful, and me... cooperating, even though it was not the greatest piece of news I'd ever heard because I want him to be happy. What the hell sort of monster of self-control climbs down off a good mad in order to understand something that limits her and help another person feel better? Where did I learn to do it? How? Why is it that even when I realised I was doing it I didn't stop, but continued instead to be reasonable?
Now that I can do this it means that I have to. It's empowering to be able to do it, but it would be liberating to not take responsibility for it and just do whatever the hell I felt like because it wasn't my fault.
The other story comes right down to sex, pure and simple.
The Juggler and I are practicing controlled escalation of our relationship, at least in a purely arbitrary-social-physical-hierarchy sense whereby, say, oral sex is ruled as somehow less high on the scale than penetration/intercourse. This is because it helps the Exotic to deal with the fact that it's happening far away and he feels left out. Basically, the Exotic lets me know when something is okay and them I'm free to escalate to that point.
If I were given free preference I'd be escalating a lot more quickly than I am.
So sometimes, on the phone, while I'm sitting there beside the Juggler, the Exotic will tell me, 'I think it's okay for you to have actual sex now.'
What do I do? Do I pounce on that, take him up on the offer, hang up quickly, indulge? No, I do not. I say, 'think about it for a little bit and put it in writing in an email to the group, I don't want you to be pushed or rushed.' Heartbreakingly, I did this because I thought he might change his mind. And he did.
And I'm obeying those guidelines. I'm not squidging around them, I'm not stepping over them just a little, I'm not ignoring them because if he's going to say yes sooner or later it doesn't matter when it starts.
Talk about self-denial. Talk about compensating for someone else's stuff gently, about not taking advantage of weak moments, about not pressing for something I'd really like, about...
When did I learn to do this stuff? Who is doing this stuff? I'm not a good enough person, I'm not a strong enough person, to do this well. So what's going on?
What's going on is the web. What's going on is that my insecurity and fear of losing these people is pushing me to do good things so that I'm worthy of them. There are so many awesome people in my life. If I do something really stupid they'll all see it, all hear about it, and all judge me accordingly. It's not just a matter of one person getting messed up by something I do -- it's a matter of losing everything, and suddenly everything seems like a lot. This is me living up to standards. It's incredible.
And it is, in some ways, terrible. Owning all this stuff means I'll never have a day where I can just do whatever I want, whenever I want, no matter what it is. There are always other people to consider, always other feelings to keep in mind, always this goodness in me to live up to. It's brutal. I'm literally forced to do this, by myself, and from myself I have no escape.
I guess this is life, grown-up style. Let's see how well I can do.
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-29 04:45 pm (UTC)It's facile to say that "this is the price you pay for all that wonderfulness", but in a way it's true.
That said, I'm glad to see you doing it. :) It gives me hope for the future of the poly community...
The Price - Morality?
Date: 2003-05-29 08:43 pm (UTC)My morality's always encompassed sort of 'what you can get away with without hurting other people'. This was something completely different, though. This wasn't running a cost-benefit analysis and choosing the best result, this was just: this is the right thing to do, I need to do it. And it literally felt as if I had no choice.
Kind of like I was a D&D character and someone said, "She's lawful good, she must attack the evil creature" or whatever. I didn't decide whether it was the right thing to do, I didn't try to do it, I just had to.
So I figure this is morality. This is me having a set of morals which I will uphold no matter whether I can get away with fudging or not. And that got me thinking more.
This moral stuff kicked in as soon as I developed a sense of self-worth that included my ability to do the right thing (I knew I could sometimes) and when I developed a group of people whose wellbeing really meant something to me.
I think a lot of people don't have those things nowadays. It seems to be literally meaningless to make the right decision if no one, neither yourself or anybody else, cares. So, an increase in interconnectedness and caring relationships results in more moral people?
It's interesting stuff. Maybe someday someone will define morality to my satisfaction now... ;)