Tom

Posted: January 12, 2019 in hidden admonishment

Last night, I was hanging out with a guy on methadone and seroquil. He’s been in recovery since late summer.

He told me to check myself into Wakebrook…and I was sort of offended. I realized later, it’s because I think I’m better than him.

That’s pretty shitty.

Coming back into town this afternoon, there was a man standing on the corner of New Hope and New Bern. Usually, I don’t notice, but I liked this guy’s angle and crossed traffic to make contact.

His sign basically said…”I know I’m a piece of shit, but I want to be alive.” Paraphrasing. I could relate.

I gave him money. Money I “earned” avoiding balancing my boss’s business account all week, and then, because I was thrilled he didn’t bring up God, I asked him if he wanted to get something to eat and come home with me.

Not charity. It was more of a self-destructive mirror…and a desire to continue avoiding balancing that account.

He declined.

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Questions

Posted: January 12, 2019 in hidden admonishment

Am I ever going to feel okay?

Am I doing okay?

Am I okay?

What do I need to do for myself to feel okay?

What do I think needs to happen to feel okay?

Can I keep ignoring these feelings?

How long can I push them out of the way?

What do I want to happen?

Will I be okay with the things I can’t control?

Do I need control?

Posted: December 6, 2018 in hidden admonishment

You made me aware of this nasty tenancy I have to invite people to treat me like shit…especially if someone seems to like me or respect me.

That’s just…ick. No good for anybody.

That’s my reaction. I can’t bear the thought of letting somebody who’s placed their confidence in me down. I devalue them and meet them with instantly distrust for investing anything in me whatsoever.

And then I just distance myself when they actually do treat me shitty because obviously that’s no good either…but I can at least play martyr to hold myself over with that.

I struggle with that more than I struggle with the sensation of a fraction of dependency from me…fucking feeling like I need somebody…that scares me shitless…

Sick fucking pain in the ass, aren’t I? Simple defense mechanism linked to self-esteem, I suppose, huh? Obvious to all but me?

I’m not afraid of loving my dog, and I feel bad when it happens, but I’m always letting her down. So neither of those things are my fucking problem.

No, my problem is even more common to the point if being trite.

My problem is that if I invest and then get let down or fuck up catastrophically and irrevocably…well…it turns out…it fucking hurts.

Big, bad, complicated, special snowflake me is afraid of getting hurt, and that’s it.

I hate this shit. Why do I have to struggle so fucking hard to gain insight on such simple things? It’s infuriating. I’m retarded.

I fucking hate it.

Also, I apologize. I think the rambling…rationalizing what the fuck I’m feeling…yeah, it’s helpful and cathartic in processing this fucking baggage

(Jesus, I’m sorry I’m that fucking girl that dumps on you; because who the fuck wants to burden anybody with their shit or has time to deal with anybody else’s?)

I don’t know. The rambling is also a stress reaction…because it’s comforting…just not to sit alone with all this shit I don’t want to deal with helps a lot. And you didn’t want to play this role. You told me from when I very first started asking you questions that you didn’t want to be a shoulder for me.

And I forced you into it anyway, because I can talk myself out of pretty much anything, but intuitively…I can’t help who I trust…and goddamn it.

That’s just…ick. No good for anybody.

Sigh…

Retarded.

Am I even going in the right fucking direction at this point? Because the shit I’m starting to understand just keeps getting simpler and simpler. It’s beyond humbling.

There. That’s a good unbalanced 2am, don’t fucking share this shit, nobody cares ramble.

I’m going to fucking get this shit under control. It’s just stress. There’s a more productive outlet than bothering you with it. I’m going to find it.

Spacial Dynamics

Posted: December 2, 2018 in hidden admonishment

It helped that Tyler knew Tim, and…Tim liked him.  Tim used to talk about trying to help him, and I always found myself being the one pulling him back from investing too much.  He didn’t really talk about you.  He would just mention that you were occupied with something new, or that you were still carrying a torch for that girl who used to live next door.  He didn’t like Steve.

Tim knew that whole neighborhood, but there was some kind of balance…some sort of calm he gained over there at the shithole for a while with you guys.  Maybe it was because he was high all the fucking time.

I don’t know.  He kept that from me…even when blackout drunk…and I’ll never really know why.  I thought he felt comfortable telling me everything.  Anything.  I never doubted him or questioned him or pried.  I just trusted that he knew what he needed, and I tried to be there for him.  If he needed to play with his gun, who was I to stop him?  If he needed to kiss another girl, I must not have been good enough.  If he didn’t want to fuck me, I must be unfuckable.  If I’m unhappy, it’s my fault.

That’s the cycle.  It’s not consistent.  It’s not black and white.  Cut and dry.  Clear when you’re in it textbook shit.  It’s a slow creep with a lot of stops and starts.  Apologies and amends and promises and…feeding into shit wrong.  Making shit worse.

I was never going to leave him.  He threatened to leave me almost every weekend, and I never would have stopped him.  I wanted him to be okay…to feel okay with who he was, and I loved him.  I did love him, even when it was unhealthy because it meant I couldn’t maintain respect for myself.  I don’t know why he was with me.  It felt like everything about me just made things worse for him.

Tyler was as close as I could get to what I wanted after Tim died, because I knew what I really wanted wasn’t possible.  Laid out in plain terms, that’s the vulnerability.

I think Tyler did the best he could with an impossible task…that he volunteered for.  He just…stepped into that space…and I think he held it for as long as he could.  I couldn’t begrudge him for wanting to be himself and live his life, and however superficial and misinterpreted my acts of gratitude have been, if I saw a way that I could potentially make something a little easier for him…I offered what I could.

I’ve had friends, and family, and professionals tell me that Tyler’s bad news…but he never coerced me, and I was never unaware.  From the outside it looks bad, and I know that.  I’ve withdrawn, but Tyler was the only one on the inside for a while where things looked much worse, and he had this beautiful, idealized perspective on Tim.  The positive shit.  The fun stuff.  Confirmation that he did fucking love me…and I needed that.

Because all of those things are just as true.

I’m not stupid…and Tyler’s not evil.

 

This time, it’s “compatible”.

You know, sometimes, I think I catch you trying; and I don’t like it, because I don’t want some version of you that you think I want.  I don’t want that at all.  I don’t want you to be anything specific for me, and I don’t need compatibility beyond what I already know.

You’re already more interesting than any of my dreams could be, just as you are.  Because you’re not me.  How could I not be fascinated by someone I’ll never know completely?  The curiosity in itself is enough, but that you’re not cruel just feeds the desire for the impossible.  No matter how close, or how deep, or how strongly we connect, I’ll never know you entirely the way I know myself.

If you’re not cruel, and you’re not expending your energy on meaningless lies, you don’t have to try.  Show me who you are, and I’ll love you forever just for that alone–for not wasting my time with sleight of hand and empty aspirations.

I know it frustrates you.

That I don’t reward you for paying attention and fabricating something you think I’ll like.  What the fuck do I want, then?  Right?  We blame it all on my fear…and I am afraid.  I’m guilty of it, too.  I want to impress you.  I care what you think.  I have a deep-seated desire to please that goes well below the surface of things to the core of how I derive self-worth.  You better believe I guard that desire from mistreatment, but only after somebody gives reason.  I don’t enjoy exposing myself when I can’t have control…but I’ll never have control, and I can’t connect without sustaining a genuine, open vulnerability among those who don’t hurt me.

You don’t hurt me, but sometimes you do try to do or say something that seems slightly forced or false.  Like it wouldn’t happen if I wasn’t the intended audience.  That.  I don’t like.

When you try, you complicate things that are so simple and organic and beautiful.  And when I try…I crush everything with a profound lack of grace.  But I don’t think that’s incompatibility.  it’s just not the same.  We’re not the same, but I like that.  All I want is…

 

Authenticity.

 

 

Well

Posted: November 11, 2018 in hidden admonishment

I haven’t been here in a very long time, but rather than narrate into a vacuum about it, I’m just going to go right back to using this platform for what I need from it…

I think about you constantly, but I can’t tell you…because you don’t want to hear it.  Even if you do, on some low level, want to hear it as a way to boost your ego; you really don’t want to hear it, because you don’t want me.

At least, these are the parameters set to adhere to, so I’m doing my best…even though it’s more embarrassing and guilt invoking for me than I imagine it would be for you.  In your situation, a rather awkward individual has taken an unwanted interest in you despite your best efforts to remain neutral.  In my situation…you’re my dead husband’s friend to whom I had no intentions of becoming attached.

It’s hard for me to even fucking write that down.  “Whom.”  I fucking hate that word, and it’s not that I intentionally became infatuated with you.  I tried to fight it for a long time.  I even told you,

Hey…

this is happening,

but I don’t want it to,

and I’m really sorry,

but you’re going to have to help me make it stop,

because I’m just not ready to address any sort of serious feelings for anyone.

And you know what?  That’s a really fucked up thing to ask someone to help with, but you were actually awesome about it and went cold, and told me what I thought I needed to hear…and instead of being a relief like it has been with everybody else I’ve pushed back to a safe distance…

Hearing it from you made me sad.

It made me really fucking sad that I’m still stuck on something I can’t change, but I don’t want to be stuck.  I want to embrace how I feel about you regardless of reciprocation.  I know you understand that I’m stuck and I’m scared.  I tell you all of the time, and I ask you what to do.  What can I do?  How do I move through this?  Am I doing okay?  Am I okay?

It’s buried under rambling, because I don’t know what I’m doing as I do it.  I’m not making the conscious decision, because that rational side of me is so constricted right now that if I don’t let things flow intuitively below the surface…I can’t move at all.  I just have to trust that my subconscious will lead me safely…and I keep coming back to you.

You.

Are.

Safe.

I know it’s not fair.  I didn’t anticipate something like this happening, even though I’ve read about it being relatively common.

You gave me what I said I wanted, and I…don’t want it.

I want you.

And that scares the shit out of me.

missing

Posted: September 2, 2017 in hidden admonishment

When I first moved to Milwaukee, I didn’t get any mail except for one missing children’s flyer each week. I hated living in the dorms and felt so disappointed with college from the onset that I saved them the entire time I went to school. Then I looked up all those fucking kids instead of working on my senior thesis and learned what happened to the recovered ones.

Tim’s the only person…I don’t even know how to put it into words…He made me feel like I had a home.