Over the last eight days, I have been pondering my place in this state. I’ve been listing what I’m doing and why it matters, making note of reasons to live anywhere and reasons to live here. I’ve been polling the voices, gathering conclusions, and uncovering fears. My webs of thoughts bunch in sticky spots and gleam when dew drops slide down the long, narrow strands of reason. Am I the spider or the fly? Displayed beautifully, my ideas and rationalizations still gather bodies for the slaughter. Or do they? Am I deluded with my own self-importance? …Screamed the dust speck.
Today, with much pride and a surprising tone of confidence, I told my therapist, “I’m a good and giving person”. That woman has been telling me that I’m a good person since 2006. Given my notes from this week, I am able to say that by all my accounts, I am generous and generally good. Granted, I may be biased. It’s not a scientifically held up survey. My therapist’s eyes went wide when I said it. “I’m a good and giving person.” She confirmed it for me and then said that everyone else has known it for a long time.
I’m not perfect. I have crazy and vices and many inabilities. However, I am hardworking. I am clever and self-motivated. I am active. I’m faithful and I’m honest. As I get older and fuck up more, I learn better ways to communicate. There is little I say about anyone that I cannot say to them. I am a woman of integrity. I’m a good person. I never thought I’d be able to say that and believe it.
In my imperfection, I have been sharply reminded that I cannot sustain my life single-handedly at the moment. Maybe I never will. Maybe that’s my real fear: being dependent for the rest of eternity. Marriage says a lot of things to me that others don’t hear, and one of those things is dependence. My freedom was hard earned and I am not done with it yet, thanks. I may not be for a while.
Because of my years of work and my picky tendencies, I was met with a breaking wave of support. I have great friends. I am warm and fed, clothed and content. I have more than most and I have the intelligence to know it.
I sought the advice of trusted friends. I was surprised by the answers I got. I kept the silence requested. Unexpected calm seeped into my days. No one cried on me for more than five days in a row. My shoulder hasn’t been that dry in months. I find time to feel more. I ask myself questions I’ve been avoiding. I stretch and copy Katie’s exercises and get my hair cut. I’m told that this change was what I needed; what we both needed. I’m told that people are not worried about me. “If there’s one person who I think could survive anything, it’s you.” “You’ve been through bigger things than this.” “You are very good at putting in the work, and knowing when to leave. Trust yourself.”
As the fog of drama, fury, and manipulation clears, I see the many good things. I’ve been discovering some downsides of poly I’d not previously considered, and now I’m faced with a benefit I’d also missed. When one relationship breaks down, a poly person may have other healthy strong dynamics to help through the difficult tims. I am one such fortune person. People who have every reason to feel off-put have been at my side. I have a choice of places I can stay. I don’t want to test how many are genuine offers vs. said to offer comfort and moral support, but the idea that I do not have to want for a roof gives me peace. I am thankful once more that I am single, without Lyra or any child. The worst parts of my subconscious tells me that I’ve failed as an adult, again. I’m homeless, again. I’m unwanted and outsted and fired after hard work, again. I’m mean and I’m working hard not to listen to myself. I am not great at the whole of personing. I would not be as bold as Charlie and claim I’ve been in charge of pretty much everything in my life. It’s probably why I play a Top in kink, so I can pretend to have my shit together.
Still, I’m not just downsides. Emotionally, I’m a healing ninja. I’m creative. I can figure out how to work more things than I knew and I can bond with unexpected people.
Although, there’s a double edge to that sword. When I get close to someone, and then explain my crazy, and then am severed, it sucks. What about when it’s legal, and I’m married into something, into a family-then they get taken away, too? I consider tracing back all the failed father figures I’ve had, and I think of my friends talking me down last week. I was surrounded with good reminders of platonic father-daughter dynamics and praised for bravery. “I love you” does not have to be a threat or a requirement for physical action, even when it comes from a dad. Partners want their families included as relationships get more serious. I wish there was some way to include family without allowing myself to get attached to those people. I still miss Patty and Al. I don’t know what I’d do without Jolene and Jimmy. I was making a friend and building a healthy, platonic relationship. I’m hurt and angry and confused about being hurt and angry. None of these parents are mine. And they never will be.
These are situations that cannot be avoided if I wish to live in the world. Even in monogamy, people change or lie or cheat or quit. Life changes and people do whatever they can to survive their own experiences. I don’t have anyone in my life who wishes malice upon me. I doubt I have anyone who would act against me on purpose. Still, being exposed and vulnerable to people allows harm, despite the best of intentions. It’s my job to make sure I’m safe. And I will.
I wish trauma didn’t have my brain side-fucked into believing it’s unsafe and worthless more often than not. Although, that “good and giving person” bit is a pretty huge step forward. I guess I’ll keep going. lol Besides, I have to see season 7 of GoT and I have great dinner plans Saturday.