btms–>rants

Solidly awake listening to someone snoring like they’re going to die, listening to the Juno soundtrack and mobile posting since nobody I’m comfortable bothering seems awake. Amazing that I am, after a weekend of reduced and additional, well, everything. Another Shmoocon past.

I had a conversation with an HfH site supervisor a while ago about how I take days off to help. He seemed a little surprised. I blew it off at the time, but I definitely feel like the volunteering I do is less stressful than work. Maybe it’s partly just something different. I was ashamedly anxious today in the midst of an incident, not sure why. Little sleep + food, lots of caffiene, probably.

“You’re so nice and so smart. You’re such a good friend, I have to break your heart. I’ll tell you that I love you, then I’ll tear your world apart. Just pretend I didn’t tear your world apart.”

Container day is coming up, so M has been on my mind. I’m still in some kind of acceptance mode as of late; of reality. Humanizing? Others speak of removing her from a pedestal. Too much credit where it isn’t due? Some kind of bias of the heart?

“Also consider that at her core, as evidenced by the manner of breakup and how she otherwise treated you, there are essential emotions lacking. Compassion and empathy. Actions are a trurer reflection of inner self than words.”

I know a while ago I got thinking and writing about the arguments with M over my defense of H. Self-esteem would be a thin root, as this continues far beyond when these situations, where past relationships affect my daily life, seem to be a regular occurance. Why the defensiveness? Compassion from vulnerability?

“Sometimes what we can’t have blinds us to the possibilities that are before us. The unobtainable holds great power; often to our detriment and ultimate happiness.”

And so it goes. There are markers to come this year. Container day, the end of the motorcycle lawsuit, a year at WT.

“Because when things are overwhelming or profoundly moving (often), i always think that life is full of things. Makes me feel small and humbly subject to whimsy.”

I’m still of the solid belief that how we act is who we are, and how we treat other people is our mark on the world.

B: Is anything difficult for you?
Me: Everything. I just put on a good show and internalize the pain.
B: Whatev….you’re full of sshh..
Me: Haha. Serious, long genetic history of making life look easier than it is through bouts of martyrdom. 

Reversing and applying a pedestal filter, I ponder the importance of how people treat me, how it affects my happiness, and who I like. And what that means.

This reminds of the conversation with A about the friends at her birthday party and being disinterested in them. I long ago found the value of my time, and found it to be high, yet still have a willingness to use it just being around the right people. Perhaps doing nothing is recovery time, and I need the people around me to be of a certain collection of personality traits for that to work.

I fear my long-term decisions at times, and how they redraw life and time. Perhaps that is what fuels the desire to live in the moment.

Have I found in B someone someone with the availability and willingness to vulnerability to actually execute on the adventures M was afraid to do more than dream about? I think so.

During round two, I met M for breakfast and on J’s recommendation spent most of the visit feeling out where she was, where she wanted to engage our relationship. M left that day feeling I was sad, and that she didn’t want to be with someone sad. The actual sad family events of the time aside, I couldn’t have the real conversation with her. Despite her reflection since, the last round confirmed she still is unable to communicate with me without getting overwhelmed, taking this out on how I feel and ultimately on me. Much better than round one in regard to being mean, but still running, and unwilling to face it.

Ultimately it is that unwillingness that makes any level of relationship a dead-end. As I discern my feelings from reality, that is the focus lens through which I identify my bias.

I had some time Wednesday to reminiscence over the past, catalyzed by revisiting places I’ve been to every few years for the last ten. I’ve been busy since, so no time to write. It’s so hard letting go of what M called “the good things,” regardless of the absurdity of not doing so. Moving forward, I’m cautiously taking to valuing being cared and thought about.

old shit that nobody wants to talk about got dredged up today. After the anxiety passed, I feel like I’m looking at a pile of unidentifiable artifacts on a beach, pondering its making.

If you’re unwilling to identify and/or accept your defensiveness, you put those close to you in an uncomfortable situation of not knowing what is safe to talk about. ‘I can not believe you would think that about me’ is a sign of that trap. We must consider the thoughts of those close to us with humility, lest we start to believe in our own superiority.

Well. That was fun. Nothing better than talking about your relationship problems with two lawyers and a court reporter.

Apparently I’m a hipster now, as Monica teased me for BMX helmet, short haircut, graphic t-shirt, and bandanna whilst riding my fixed gear bicycle sporting a messenger bag. Most of those have perfectly reasonable expectations. But they really don’t matter.

Talked to Scott this morning about shit that’s going on, at least what I can talk about, which lead to the timing of M breaking up with me, finding out about A’s death in such close proximity to my birthday and my great grandmothers death, left out dealing with the layoffs and whatnot. It didn’t really matter beyond that it sucked.

Correction, B’s dad’s birthday was the day of my motorcycle accident. I think he would have been 25, which was how old I was when I had my accident. Still bizarre.

Fuck though. Today sucks. I can’t wait for tomorrow to be over. So much on my chest, the implications of which send waves through everything else. I’ll see B in a bit, which will be comforting, then a chance to talk with J for a while, which I wish I had a few hours for before tomorrow instead of one.

Twelve hours of sleep last night, breakfast with Mom, then a forty mile bike ride, including a tour of five water towers with Bike Sabbath. Stopped in the UD to meet a friend to get some comforting, and ran into other friends around the neighborhood as well. Come to think of it, ran into lots of bike kids on the ride too. Recovery and distraction.

Recent external pressure is making me deal with the repercussions of things that happened a long time ago that I still don’t feel ready to deal with. It’s gotta happen some day I suppose.

It may sound crass, but I was in some way happy when the whole M issue spurred you to take up the suggestion to seek counseling. Somehow counseling around relationship issues was something you could do.

Man, why does that just leave me angry at M? More feeling abandoned. So afraid to trust, and so afraid not to. I remember a comment from her expressing her being glad my friends and family were there to take care of me when she left me. As she got more frustrated, that quickly turned into the implication that I wasn’t her problem anymore, she washed her hands of me, and with it her guilt and feelings.

It’s not appropriate to quote all of this at this time, as much as I want to:

… as if something was chasing you and might catch up.

It’s getting very close to time to give up I suppose.

patient encouraged to request meds well before pain gets to level of 7/10

Medic unit reported patient unresponsive with GCS 3

Christ. Just reading these records hurts.

Waiting for development to send me some sql statements to tune up the demo environment for engage this week. I chuckled remembering M’s complaint about how I thought about truck axles when  I should have, presumbly, been thinking about more meaningful bits. I’m pretty sure I’ve always had the thinking too much covered, actually.

I’ve been thinking about M rarely talking about his first wife, about having strong feelings for someone not being enough to make it work, about finding a relationship that you can make work. Someone (J?) was talking with me a while back about often falling for people who were not emotionally available. I’ve had enough strife due to the emotionally unavailable that I’m much better at accepting my losses.

Maybe it’s time to count more of my blessings. Maybe that’s what I’m doing right now.

Carefully.

The day of my motorcycle accident is the anniversary of her father’s death in a motorcycle accident.

Reading through a three or four inch pile of medical paperwork related to my motorcycle accident is interesting. I put it behind me as fast as I could, I try to forget it. I didn’t realize A had come to see me while I was in the hospital. I can’t think of A without remembering when I found out she had died, having just been abandoned by M. I stayed home that day. I wanted to talk to A. When I found out, I went outside to find Tori smoking to get a hug. It was almost my birthday. Star Trek was almost out. Can I quantify how important M was to me? And how much I was looking forward to sharing the excitement that I keep hidden and protected with her? Such a large hole. A year before, my great grandmother Mae passed on my birthday (5/26/1912 - 5/7/2008), and A passed the next day.

That’s a one in three-hundred and sixty five chance right? I never took statistics. I suppose as years pass the likelihood of all of this happening grows. I was thinking it was my Uncle Yale who shot himself who died on my fathers birthday, but it was father’s really good pilot friend who died in a plane crash on his birthday.

Everything that makes spending time with B great draws really interesting patterns regarding M. Being unable to get M to stop running away aside, I’m fascinated by how important it is to have someone care about me and be able to express it to me without shame. Sometimes it feels like that is all that matters.