09 January 2011
Thoughts From This Week.
Here you go, a real look into how the mind and heart are connected in my world.
This has just been a rather tough week, and I've dropped into a mild depressive episode. Hopefully it goes away soon. Real soon. I hate feeling like I do when I'm depressed.
A friend of mine, whom we'll call Awesomesauce, has gone above and beyond the call of duty for the last year. I could turn to him when things got tough while I was dealing, or not dealing, with Mom dying, her death, and planning the wake.
That, of course, allowed him inside my defenses. The defenses I'd put up so I don't get hurt. With him inside the defenses, in the heart of the castle compound, I have a high likelihood of being devastated, as with anyone else I let into my inner bailey, let alone the keep.
I actually fought myself to keep Awesomesauce (and others) at the drawbridge with my minions' swords and pikes firmly pressed against his throat. The minions can at least kick people off of the drawbridge into the freshwater piranha infested waters. As I've said, Awesomesauce is now allowed to roam around the keep, like he owns the place. (No that is not a sexual metaphor).
Tuesday, Awesomesauce again had the pleasure of being there when I needed him when I had a conversation with the police about the cousin who raped me when I was 13 (one I still have serious issues in dealing with). While the day started off shitty, it got better as soon as I finished my conversation with the police. Breakfast, tv, dinner, just people hanging out having an enjoyable day. It at least took my mind off of life for a bit, which is a difficult task.
Last night Mr. Awesomesauce and I went to the movies. Not a date, strictly as friends as I was so wonderfully reminded before we even got to the car. Like I wasn't triggered enough.
While I was on my way to meet Awesomesauce, the ex boyfriend (Facepalm) called. Facepalm gave me an update on his health status. I'm glad he's in remission and the other thing that popped up was harmless, but he did treat me like shit. And I was stupid enough to stand for it for 5 1/2 years because I thought the good outweighed the bad. I should really figure out to not answer Facepalm's calls if I'm getting ready to have a good time, because he's going to trigger me.
Apparently Facepalm hasn't learned that he had his chances and I'm sure as hell not going back. For one thing I'm still pissed at God for letting him live while I had to painfully watch Mom waste away into nothing, bathe her, wipe her ass, work with the hospice staff, feed her, and try to suffer through a tough semester on appx. 3 hours of sleep a night with no emotional support from Facepalm, while the Bipolar was seriously flaring. Hell I tried to call him for 3 days before Mom's death with no response, no call back, nothing. She finally gets peace and he decides to call and ask how she's doing. Awesomesauce was at least available, as were many other friends.
Facepalm acted out the usual script; How are you doing; I miss you; I'm tired of being alone; I hate my wife (yes, I know, shut up); I'm worried about you; I'm depressed; Do you have a boyfriend yet; If I get disability I may go ahead and file for divorce; but no I still love you. Not that it would bring me back. I'm set in the fact I'm done with him. I had to rip his heart out again, which I hate doing since I am the only loyal friend he has.
I have been loyal to him since I met him about 8 years ago. If he needed to talk, I was there. If he needed a hug, I hugged. If he needed to be told something, I was brutally honest. When he had his heart attack, I was there for him to talk to, to be loved by, even though I was the last person on the planet to know about it. When he found out about the cancer, (again I was the last person to know) I almost dropped the phone because I was so shocked, and crying, trying to make sense of it, and of course being pissed at God because He had just given two people very close to me some form of cancer (Mom had been diagnosed about 6 weeks earlier).
If Facepalm is so concerned about me, he should have shown the concern when I was struggling trying to make the end of Mom's life comfortable and keep my sanity, and do decent in my classes on no sleep. He should have treated me like I was an equal, not one of his kids. He should have told me he loved me more, nagged less, and preached even less than that. He should have learned to accept me for who I am, not try to change me. He shouldn't have been so absent when I needed him the most.
Facepalm is a man I couldn't cry in front of (What are you bawling about?), couldn't openly communicate with (OMG Pagan? You must be saved!), trust to be there for me when I needed it (If you can't keep a civil tongue in your mouth then don't talk *hangup* when I was venting about some asshat calling the hospice social-worker complaining that we were not taking care of Mom correctly). He had no desire to work with, rather than against, the bipolar (you just use it as a crutch, take another pill, you'll be fine).
Oh and I apparently never looked good either. When I had short hair (which is what I had when he met me) he told me women with short hair, including me, look like bull dyke bitches. It depended on the hardness of his penis whether my fat was a good thing or not. And he always told me that I look like a bag-lady, and I should put on a dress and makeup... two things that are simply not in my nature and go against my feminist arteries.
I still remember the hell I had to endure when I started this college bullshit. My parents (even Mom) were pissed because of money, because, well, I should just stay blue collar and work a meaningless job for the rest of my life and sacrifice happiness, and Facepalm with all of his confidence in me, had the balls (while I was thinking about cutting) to say "Are you actually going to go through with this school thing, or are you going to give up and whine because it's too hard or you think you're too stupid?" In 5 1/2 years he never learned that the Boot Camp reverse psychology doesn't work on me. You can tear me down, but I'll stay down.
Naturally I told him in the conversation last night that I am indeed single, and rather enjoying it, enjoying not having to answer to him, that he deserves someone who will treat him better than that bitch he's married to so if he gets a divorce I'll be happy for him and hope he finds his sanity and some peace. I told him that I have gone through Hell, had suicidal tendencies all through November (the response was, take your meds) that I got new meds and I'm doing better. I hadn't slipped into a depressed state since being put on risperidol (oops).
I reminded Facepalm that I couldn't even have a conversation with him about stuff I like because he's simply not interested. I was lucky to even get 30 mins on the phone once a week, whereas I can talk to Awesomesauce for 5 hours and have the conversation end merely because the phone dies.
I reminded him that I couldn't cry in front of him because of the insensitive remarks, and that I need a man that he simply cannot be. I need one that will support me, travel the world (especially Europe) as I research and write historical fiction and poetry. I need a man that will accept me for who I am, love me unconditionally, and quite honestly one who can handle the moodswings that are reminiscent of a woman pregnant for life. We artists are not easy to deal with.
Oblivious male Awesomesauce, on the other hand, is awesomesauce. He's my best friend. Honestly, if it weren't for him listening and refocusing my attention to something else I would have landed in the loony bin a few times in the past year.
Unfortunately for Awesomesauce, I was still being hypersensitive last night, especially after the phone call from Facepalm. Awesomesauce doesn't realize what goes on between my ears every day. He doesn't understand that I go to bed and wake up knowing that I can't have him for one reason or another (one good reason is we're both rebounding and don't want to hurt someone else because we're being a rebounding douchebag).
He also doesn't realize that if I'm talking, and he says something, then I go quiet and speak in short sentences, I'm upset because he just kicked me in the throat again.
He doesn't realize that I wake up knowing that I'm just a poor, goth redneck who may never ever get on her feet in the real world because of this disease; wondering if college is even worth it, in this economy and in my chosen fields.
Naturally, in my hypersensitive post-movie moments, my brutal honesty came out. I just couldn't hold it in any longer (though I know I need to heal from Facepalm and Mom). I was stupid enough to tell him how I feel, what I see in him when I look into his eyes, how other people see him, how much he's respected. And then I got even more stupid and told him about what his body language says.
I completely eviscerated myself to Awesomesauce, and now I feel like an asshole because I should have just kept holding it in.
I told him I think it's more than a crush, but couldn't find the words to say crushes for me are sexual, and they sure as fuck don't last as long as this has. This is emotional, intellectual, anything but sexual. That part doesn't seem to function correctly with the new meds, not like I care. Sex would only complicate things farther, and I can't have that while I'm trying to heal and fill in this seriously wounded heart.
At least I didn't drop the L bomb. That would have made matters worse, and again, I want to make sure the next time I speak those words it's not because I'm rebounding. Plus I have this standing rule - The male must say it first, and it is not to be believed if we're naked and/or he has a hard-on.
Oh the joys of a rebounding soul.