It's a difficult holiday, and has me singing the blues, or at least feeling them. Most people in my life would look at me askance if I actually sang.
I feel like I'm back in my teenage years. It is interesting, because until this trip, I felt like I was much of the problem of my problematic teenage years. Typically, when I take the time off to see a family member, they try to spend time with me. My mother is so distracted right now that even though I took off time to be with her, she doesn't even have time for me to help her beyond running to the store for her, doing a small construction project, being on the phone to get her internet working, that sort of not-fun-thing. And she's moving--I get that. It is tough for her. But it is also tough for me. This wasn't what we'd planned on.
If I weren't having a hard time, with my dad and in general, I wouldn't be having a hard time with my mom. I'm needy and my mom is kind of ignoring me this trip. Not ignoring me, but it isn't a holiday.
Everyone thinks I'm so cavalier and strong, but I get hurt so badly and so easily. I just hide it. I was 'fun to tease' and my dad blamed me, so now, almost everyone just sees this mask. I guess we all do that--but then I meet people like Nate, who really don't seem to do that.
Maybe it is good that the tears are at the surface right now. But sometimes I'm scared that the only thing that happens when I allow my emotions to the surface is that I get more easily hurt.
My family doesn't really consider me an adult because I'm just a single woman, and truth be told, I don't really either. I keep waiting for my life to begin when I meet someone to share it with. So much of my energy is spent on being ready and open for a relationship. And yet, maybe I'm just too severely damaged. No, that's not true--I could easily be married right now to the ex, if I'd said yes, and maybe a few other guys along the way if I'd been willing. I have a friend who only ever dated a guy for a couple of months, and he clearly viewed her as a fuck-buddy. I'm not that damaged. I'm just too picky for the men that are interested in me, and seem to be interested in the men who are not.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Tears at the surface
I feel like I'm blogging a little too much to keep it interesting. I don't want this to turn into "and then for breakfast, I had eggs with toast." At the same time, it does feel like a lot of emotional stuff is coming up right now, and that is what I use this for.
So Edwin was sweet and warm and genuine and lovely. We talked about our lives, and things that mattered. It sounds like his marriage is hard, but good. He had all sorts of Jesus-stuff in his car. "My little book of God" and Jesus loves me stuff for his 3-year-old. It is interesting to think how very different my life would be if I had ended up with him. When we were close, I was pretty involved with church, but mostly because I was showing up, trying to be present to get some sense of a spiritual life. At a certain point, with no sign of a spiritual presence, I quit trying. (I hope that isn't a metaphor for my romantic life.)
I mentioned John. He is a kind, good man. He could tell when my tears were close to the surface and was empathetic. He would clearly like to be friends again, and I don't want him in my life too closely. It is just too painful.
I feel like my tears are on the surface a lot. Maybe it is good in the long run, but it is kind of exhausting.
So Edwin was sweet and warm and genuine and lovely. We talked about our lives, and things that mattered. It sounds like his marriage is hard, but good. He had all sorts of Jesus-stuff in his car. "My little book of God" and Jesus loves me stuff for his 3-year-old. It is interesting to think how very different my life would be if I had ended up with him. When we were close, I was pretty involved with church, but mostly because I was showing up, trying to be present to get some sense of a spiritual life. At a certain point, with no sign of a spiritual presence, I quit trying. (I hope that isn't a metaphor for my romantic life.)
I mentioned John. He is a kind, good man. He could tell when my tears were close to the surface and was empathetic. He would clearly like to be friends again, and I don't want him in my life too closely. It is just too painful.
I feel like my tears are on the surface a lot. Maybe it is good in the long run, but it is kind of exhausting.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Brunch
So, Edwin called. And he sounded so excited to see me. (It turns out he lived here years ago, not months ago; some family member must have had an amazon.com address.) I said something like "well, now you have an another Christmas present" and he said "Two--it is so great to get to see you!" And then he said "Do you want to get together?" and he sounded unsure, which made me realize that I was deeply ambivalent about seeing him, but of course, I agreed to get together. It has been years. But it made me sad, and a little panicky. I've been out of sorts all day. It's just brunch. I don't know why this scares me.
A Mark, A Yen, A Buck, or a Pound
I don't like to ask for things. In part because I make enough money, for the most part, to be fine. I have had short-term money woes this year, but I'm fine long-term.
But I think my dad and I have to talk about money.
First of all, my dad has started an approach to presents that I call "Buy and Bill." He tells me to buy myself something and send him an invoice. I don't know if he notices that I don't ever invoice him for them. Last year, he didn't even send me a birthday card. I know he hates it if I buy him something. He can get really angry at me for it. (It is actually something I've written pages and pages about, but nothing coherent--just a list of 'you yelled at me when I bought you this., and you were angry that I bought you this....')
I REALLY wish my dad would notice that I never bill him for presents. He promises me expensive things, but never follows through unless I send him an invoice, which just feels so wrong to me.
In addition to not really getting big presents (which my siblings don't have a problem billing him for), my parents are giving more money to my siblings.
A couple of years ago, my brother started a business and my parents gave him 10K.
Last year, my sister bought a house and got married, and I'm pretty sure my parents gave her 10K.
In the last few years, with me buying a house, freezing eggs, and remodeling my house, my parents have given me 4K. And I should say, I'm grateful for their help! But when I needed more help, my parents were very clearly about sending each sibling a matching check every time they sent me one. (The only exception was when I was in college, but then they put money in a trust fund for the siblings. Also, I went to a state school and both my siblings went to Ivy League colleges. And I worked the entire time and my siblings didn't, in part because I really encouraged my parents to let my siblings go to Ivy Leagues--I really thought the school I went to wasn't great.)
When my sister got married (5K), my mom spoke with me and said that the trip (the one my dad cancelled that precipitated this mess) would be how things would be balanced out.
I really don't begrudge my sister or brother their gifts (although I do have to say that while I'm fine, they are more-fine; both are DINKs (for the time being, and I'm sure when grandchild arrives, there will be tons of resources thrown towards the grandchild, as there should be)), but when dad cancelled the trip, I do think money was a really big part of it. And I think that means, we'll have to talk about it.
Oy
But I think my dad and I have to talk about money.
First of all, my dad has started an approach to presents that I call "Buy and Bill." He tells me to buy myself something and send him an invoice. I don't know if he notices that I don't ever invoice him for them. Last year, he didn't even send me a birthday card. I know he hates it if I buy him something. He can get really angry at me for it. (It is actually something I've written pages and pages about, but nothing coherent--just a list of 'you yelled at me when I bought you this., and you were angry that I bought you this....')
I REALLY wish my dad would notice that I never bill him for presents. He promises me expensive things, but never follows through unless I send him an invoice, which just feels so wrong to me.
In addition to not really getting big presents (which my siblings don't have a problem billing him for), my parents are giving more money to my siblings.
A couple of years ago, my brother started a business and my parents gave him 10K.
Last year, my sister bought a house and got married, and I'm pretty sure my parents gave her 10K.
In the last few years, with me buying a house, freezing eggs, and remodeling my house, my parents have given me 4K. And I should say, I'm grateful for their help! But when I needed more help, my parents were very clearly about sending each sibling a matching check every time they sent me one. (The only exception was when I was in college, but then they put money in a trust fund for the siblings. Also, I went to a state school and both my siblings went to Ivy League colleges. And I worked the entire time and my siblings didn't, in part because I really encouraged my parents to let my siblings go to Ivy Leagues--I really thought the school I went to wasn't great.)
When my sister got married (5K), my mom spoke with me and said that the trip (the one my dad cancelled that precipitated this mess) would be how things would be balanced out.
I really don't begrudge my sister or brother their gifts (although I do have to say that while I'm fine, they are more-fine; both are DINKs (for the time being, and I'm sure when grandchild arrives, there will be tons of resources thrown towards the grandchild, as there should be)), but when dad cancelled the trip, I do think money was a really big part of it. And I think that means, we'll have to talk about it.
Oy
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Coming Together
“If I could take all my parts with me when I go somewhere, and not have to say to one of them, ‘No, you stay home tonight, you won’t be welcome,’ because I’m going to an all-white party where I can be gay, but not Black. Or I’m going to a Black poetry reading, and half the poets are anti-homosexual, or thousands of situations where something of what I am cannot come with me. The day all the different parts of me can come along, we would have what I would call a revolution.” (Pat Parker’s “Movement in Black.")
I'm a privileged, straight, white girl. Protestant. From an educated family. Our family has silver, each piece engraved with our family crest, goes back to George. Yes, I grew up eating with Georgian silver (and I love it). I was surprised when I saw Follies that that was a mark of privilege. My grandmother had wealth growing up, but married out of it. (And married late. She was lucky she didn't end up an old made.) But her sister married into the unbelievable privilege of her family. We often had the aspirations, but not the wealth.
But we were still well off. Not 99%, but probably 97% (although I, myself, am only 67%, according to the Wall Street Journal).
So why do I have this deep, deep, deep sense of not belonging? Part of it was the bullying. My parents lived on a hippie commune and made me go to school with a bunch of fucking red necks. The bullying was horrible, consistent and incessant. Not that I had my arm broken every day, but I was probably physically assaulted once a week. The fact that my parents had advanced degrees and their parents probably dropped out of high school didn't mean anything to me. What mattered to me was that there were 30 of them, not one of whom would give me a covert smile, and most of them were older (It was a 1-room school house, grades 1-6, and I was in the 1st grade). I know the bully was a huge part of it. Another part of it was that I was too smart for my own good. "A lady always laughs at a gentleman's jokes." But I couldn't play that game.
My parents didn't protect me that much. They didn't view that as their job. I think that is quite common among parents of the Me-generation. And so I learned to be stronger than I would have been on my own. Probably stronger than was healthy for me. Which, all-in-all, probably made me even less datable. Few men want to date women who are strong, who also know their way around a pneumatic nail gun. I remember the first time I had a D/s scene, the guy wanted me to struggle. He told me to. It was fun. I struggled away from him. He lost interest.
And, on top of it, I was fat. I'm still plump, but now in the 'normal' range, whatever that means. But growing up, I was fat, before kids could even get plus-size clothes.
I usually had a couple of good friends, but I didn't make friends easily. I think I'm prickly when I first meet people, but once I make a friend, I have that person for life. I have 4 women in my life that think of me as their most important, closest friend. While I love them all, I think of one of them as my closest friend. So I know that people who love me think I'm pretty extraordinary.
But most people don't take the time to get to know me.
The parts of me are my intellect, my commitment to making the world a better place, my kink, my soul-searching and my little-kid-who-wants-to-play-on-the-swings.
I know that I have been the beneficiary of incredibly societal privilege, but all I really feel is the shame that society levels on those that do not live up to the paradigms that keep the hierarchy in place. There are the few places where I feel accepted, but I would wonder, when I was at church, what they'd think if they knew about my kink. And when I was at a munch, I'd wonder what they'd think of me going to church. I segregate these different parts of myself, because it seems so hard to find a place to welcome them all together. And so, I just want one person to cherish all of them.
Edwin
It's a small world. My parents bought a new house, in a city about 4 hours from where I grew up. And today, UPS delivers a package to my parents' new house, addressed to Edwin. (I think I've also referred to him as Edward on this blog, and probably something else that began with a vowel a few years ago, but I forget people's blog names. He and I went to college together, about 1000 miles from this city, then we both moved to a large city on the other coast, where I currently live, and he moved to the city my parents are now moving to--we were very close friends from 1989-1998.)
It turns out, Edwin was living in my parents' new house as a renter while the previous owners were selling it. Which means he has probably separated or divorced from his wife. I hope he is doing OK.
I found his work number on google and called him. I haven't heard back. I don't necessarily want to see him, but it seemed kinder than returning his present to Amazon.
If this were a movie, it would be a cute-meet. But it isn't a movie, and I absolutely know that even though I really, really did love him, it wasn't mutual (aside from him doing things like kissing me on the eyes, cuddling with me, holding my hand, talking on the phone for maybe 20 hours a week on average, for about 3 years, sometimes even talking about how no woman was attracted to him, when he knew I was, all that kind of stuff).
I don't regret breaking off the friendship with Edwin. I really don't. I'm so relieved he isn't in my life. He took up all my romantic energy. I only regret having allowed it to go on for as many years as it did. But I can see why I did. He absolutely sent mixed signals.
I don't understand why I draw men to me that are absolutely committed to being friends, who rely on my for that emotional energy, who do lots of things that could be read one way or the other, but ultimately, they don't want to fuck me, or don't want to have a relationship with me. It makes me feel so unlovable and hurts my soul.
It turns out, Edwin was living in my parents' new house as a renter while the previous owners were selling it. Which means he has probably separated or divorced from his wife. I hope he is doing OK.
I found his work number on google and called him. I haven't heard back. I don't necessarily want to see him, but it seemed kinder than returning his present to Amazon.
If this were a movie, it would be a cute-meet. But it isn't a movie, and I absolutely know that even though I really, really did love him, it wasn't mutual (aside from him doing things like kissing me on the eyes, cuddling with me, holding my hand, talking on the phone for maybe 20 hours a week on average, for about 3 years, sometimes even talking about how no woman was attracted to him, when he knew I was, all that kind of stuff).
I don't regret breaking off the friendship with Edwin. I really don't. I'm so relieved he isn't in my life. He took up all my romantic energy. I only regret having allowed it to go on for as many years as it did. But I can see why I did. He absolutely sent mixed signals.
I don't understand why I draw men to me that are absolutely committed to being friends, who rely on my for that emotional energy, who do lots of things that could be read one way or the other, but ultimately, they don't want to fuck me, or don't want to have a relationship with me. It makes me feel so unlovable and hurts my soul.
Is desire is the root of suffering?
I'm not a Buddhist. Life would be much easier with my dad if I were. But I'm just not. I tend to plan for the future, rather than live in the present (but my present is a hell of a lot better than my friends who lived in the present). I don't do much drugs; I save for retirement; I exercise, all for the future. I think having connection with people I love is more important to me than saying whatever I feel in that moment.
But I do see a lot of wisdom in some parts of it, and I'm sometimes wondering about desire being the root of suffering. It is probably true, but I am still going to ache for things I don't have.
Over the holidays, Bobby was supportive in a way that Nate didn't even realize I wanted. Nate was sweet and sexy, but when I told him my dad and I were having a hard time, but we're working on it (I left out the hours and hours and hours of therapy), he said "That speaks highly of you both," which is fine. But I really would have liked him to ask about what was going on, or how I felt, or something.
I suppose it isn't fair to compare, as Bobby reads my blog and Nate doesn't know it exists (nor will he, as far as I can see). But Nate just doesn't have that introspection (or at least I'm not aware of it), and Oh, do I wish Bobby were open for a real relationship and not just fucking around. Intellectually, I think I shouldn't allow myself to ache for something I can't have. I have absolutely no evidence that Bobby would want to try something, but I can't help but crave that. I still believe that Bobby could have been a kindred spirit, and a partner in all meanings of the word. It is so rare in my life that I meet someone like that.
Originally, I tried to give up kink because I thought I couldn't have it and all the soul work. Then I figured I couldn't give up kink and gave up on trying to have the soul work. Nate is as good a man as I've dated in a long time. But if I think of my soul as a bell, Bobby could make it ring, and Nate doesn't know the bell is there. Maybe he'd learn to appreciate that side of me because he seems awfully smitten with me, but I feel like it would be watching me figure skate or something--oh, isn't it cute she does that, rather than something we could explore and share together.
I crave more. It leads to suffering. It means I can't be friends with Bobby because it just slaps me all the time that I want more. It means I'm not appreciating Nate, because I want more. Not being Buddhist, I try and remove the person I crave because I've never been able to control the craving. I'm not being fair to Nate. Or to Bobby. Or to me.
But I do see a lot of wisdom in some parts of it, and I'm sometimes wondering about desire being the root of suffering. It is probably true, but I am still going to ache for things I don't have.
Over the holidays, Bobby was supportive in a way that Nate didn't even realize I wanted. Nate was sweet and sexy, but when I told him my dad and I were having a hard time, but we're working on it (I left out the hours and hours and hours of therapy), he said "That speaks highly of you both," which is fine. But I really would have liked him to ask about what was going on, or how I felt, or something.
I suppose it isn't fair to compare, as Bobby reads my blog and Nate doesn't know it exists (nor will he, as far as I can see). But Nate just doesn't have that introspection (or at least I'm not aware of it), and Oh, do I wish Bobby were open for a real relationship and not just fucking around. Intellectually, I think I shouldn't allow myself to ache for something I can't have. I have absolutely no evidence that Bobby would want to try something, but I can't help but crave that. I still believe that Bobby could have been a kindred spirit, and a partner in all meanings of the word. It is so rare in my life that I meet someone like that.
Originally, I tried to give up kink because I thought I couldn't have it and all the soul work. Then I figured I couldn't give up kink and gave up on trying to have the soul work. Nate is as good a man as I've dated in a long time. But if I think of my soul as a bell, Bobby could make it ring, and Nate doesn't know the bell is there. Maybe he'd learn to appreciate that side of me because he seems awfully smitten with me, but I feel like it would be watching me figure skate or something--oh, isn't it cute she does that, rather than something we could explore and share together.
I crave more. It leads to suffering. It means I can't be friends with Bobby because it just slaps me all the time that I want more. It means I'm not appreciating Nate, because I want more. Not being Buddhist, I try and remove the person I crave because I've never been able to control the craving. I'm not being fair to Nate. Or to Bobby. Or to me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)