A Non-Newtonian Fluid (maddening) wrote,
A Non-Newtonian Fluid

What's actually going on

Yesterday morning I got up around 11:00, took a shower, had some coffee, and headed right over to Mike's. I had been thinking more and more about the very intentional barb I threw at him in my journal. I only did it because he'd been driving past my house, harassing me if I went over to see Tim, and before that had come to my workplace to back me into a corner and bitch at me about his unrequited love and how he felt it was surely requited, I was just being stubborn. He also stopped by that night to tell me that he knew I was planning a move to Seattle and that I was going to fail, fall flat on my face, and be catching a greyhound back home within a few months because I'm just a general failure at everything I do. His example was the fact that we were having this discussion in front of my parent's house, where I live. And he's been nothing but a dick to me for months. I felt justified in letting him know that, not only did I not love him, but I disliked him enough to be intentionally hurtful. I let him know that Tim had been fucking his recent ex... the one he swore was frigid.. the one Tim swore was the craziest sex partner he'd ever had. Mike hadn't had strong emotions for her. Mike hadn't even particularly liked her. They weren't exactly dating. They met up a couple times and had sex. He never even knew her last name. It wasn't as if I were uncovering a huge betrayal... just the passing on of a fuck buddy.
But it was still a bullshit, spiteful, vengeful thing. And revenge is something I've never understood or condoned. I just don't do it. But I did that time and it was eating at me. Couple that with a conversation with Chuck in which he let me know just what he thought of my actions (yes, Chuck, the god of kindness... I always find it horribly ironic when he starts preaching at me about my actions. He's certainly not a great example, though for the most part I guess he's pretty damned honest in his dealings) and where I felt so immediately defensive... I finally knew for sure that I'd done the wrong thing. Not wrong for everyone. Tim thought at the time that I should have done more. Egg the house, put nair in the shampoo... something... but I didn't and I won't and I still don't condone that sort of thing. It was just wrong for me.
So I went over yesterday, got him to come to the door, and apologized. I said that I was sorry that I hit him back like that. I explained that I felt really .. hedged in... like I had no other alternative. And at the time, I was feeling mean and self righteous, that it was, ultimately, something I was very sorry for and I hoped it could be, if not for given, at least understood.
He said "okay, I accept that," and then talked at me for the next half hour about everything that was wrong with me, every ill I've ever caused in his opinion and (totally out of the blue) how he was still (huh?) pissed at me for not having consulted him and Scott*** before disposing of Tom's ashes. Basically, parsed down and without all the colorful, if repetative adjectives (there should be a limit on the number of times you can call someone selfish in one conversation) is this...
I love him and he knows it.
I love him and I know it.
I love hm and everyone is well aware.
Despite having spent 3 months doing nothing but taking care of him (during which time I lost about 25lbs and contracted meningitis) I've never been there when he needed me.
The disposal of Tom's ashes should have been a group discussion and he thinks that what I did with them (post is here and here ) was thoughtless.
I should be able to finally forgive Sean. (can't find the post... but he beat the crap out of me after going off his meds)
I haven't been fair to Scott
And if I don't snatch up the chance to be with him, someone who understands and can cope with all my persistent and inherent flaws, I am going to end up alone and miserable for years before settling on someone who's merely civil to me and that will be all I'll know of true romantic happiness...
I'm probably leaving something out.. but what he had to say isn't really important. I stood there, nodded, stared.. and never said a word. I just took it and kept my mouth shut because I know through many many years of always being the one to give in first, the one who apologizes is never allowed to defend. That more or less, in the eyes of the one being apologized to, erases all the validity of the apology. "How dare you defend yourself against my outlandish accusations! You're not really trite at all!"
He could have told me that I am a neo-Hitler and the real ring leader of the group that attacked the pentagon and the WTC and I would have just kept my mouth shut and kept my face nuetral.
After that... after Mike was done, as I was walking down the street, and I'd caught a very "I'm sorry for you" look from Sean (a fucking schizophrenic/bi-polar/heavily medicated guy felt sorry for me... great... ) Tim came running after me, stopped me, and let me know just how dumb I was.
No, really.
I felt like I was talking to Chuck. Except, without all the hair.
Tim let me know in no uncertain terms that that was the dumbest thing he'd ever seen because it allowed Mike to feel like he had a sense of power of me. That Mike had absolutely no justification for feeling superior up until I handed it to him. He also let me know that when I do things like that it gets very very hard to even give me a modicum or respect. He wishes I would just stick to a conviction.
I had to point out that, had I stuck with my convictions, I wouldn't have talked to him ever again and he wouldn't have had anyone to go to when his sister died so he should be thankful for my wishy washy decisions.
To his credit, he realized he was scolding me after I'd just been scolded for half an hour, and backed off, gave me a hug, apologized, and I kept on walking.
I got home just in time for the aura to start on the new migraine.
The onset of a migraine for me is always followed by a deep, bleak depression. It's not just me. I looked it up. It's actually a documented phenomena. In fact, migraines are often misdiagnosed as depression and vice versa. So my head was not happy with me, and I was feeling disgustingly sad, and I had all these very angry thoughts about Mike and Tim and Scott and Chuck and their attitudes, their bullshit, and how my bullshit was just as full of shit as their bullshit.
It was just shitty.
Had a few conversations that left me cold. Tried to read... Ended up getting into with Rhett a little. Overly dramatic, over the top about stating my feelings, disregarding his current situation. I was actually acting like the self absorbed little shit that Mike's been accusing me of being. Self fulfilling prophesy maybe. I was pretty upset when talking to Rhett and I let myself take it out on him a little. The main frustration being that he wouldn't actually adress the issues or talk about what was going on with him. I knew he was busy and stressed. I knew he had been for awhile. So my not so happy mood of the last couple weeks wasn't really something he had the time to deal with. I fully understand. Really. But I took what he'd said as joking comments as snide, hurtful remarks and also noted that he'd never done that before. So, I looked at the new things in his life.
The came down to one person.
So.. in my assumption jumping way, I assumed he was being a dick because he was now feeling secure with requited feelings toward someone he's dug for a long time. He was comfortable where he hadn't been comfortable in a long time, and my mind made the two things match up, completely disregarding the fact that he just was too fuckin STRESSED to deal with a lot of things.
So, I got on him about it. I got further frustrated when he didn't talk back, refute, defend, or even acknowledge what I was saying.
Depression puts such a fine point on the things that already aren't happy in your life. And this was one of those things. I made a bitchy little post in the journal and when he replied with a fuck you, I went off. All I really wanted was for me to get some space. And I do actually use this journal as a space for what's bothering me, not just a dumping ground for online tests and interesting links. I spewed on my journal, he made a reply, and suddenly I felt unfairly misunderstood. I realized a little later that I was misunderstood becuase what I said wasn't very understandable.
I didn't talk to him for a bit. Let me refocus. Chad did a wonderful job of just talking to me, letting me spew, and being supportive as always. I'm convinced that I could kill a 3 year old and he'd be okay with that as long as I could properly get across just HOW MUCH of a dirty look the kid was giving me. dlbags went out of his way as well just chatting up a moron girl and sending me the messages, even though I was being exceedingly neglectful in the actual talking to him department. Rock.
So I was much calmer by the time I read the g-f and discovered that, not only had Ken replied to a post from me and changed the default name to "Boo" (post here), but when I pointed it out, he came back with a post saying
"I was just reveling in the unadulterated joy that our Verty has
found a love so pure that she'll readily accept a cutesy pet name.
No, really. I *am* happy for you...albeit in my own insufferable little
-ken, prefers "L'il Miss Perky Tits""

I'm not ashamed of anything. I''m horribly fucking private about my romantic emotions. Yes, I post them in an online, open journal. But not all of them. And I know, more or less, who actually reads this journal. There are a chunk of people on that list that I would prefer not know anything about my social life as it's none of their business.
I've gone though a couple of time periods with Ken where I was convinced just from how I percieved his behavior toward me that I'd made some sort of mortal enemy.
I'm probably just overly sensitive.
I'm aware of that.
But it didn't really start until after I'd met him in person. While in Texas, visiting Chuck, we were in Houston one day and met up with Ken at a poboys place for lunch and a quick trip to an alternative clothing store named Liquid where Ken mocked the clothes and me and Chuck shopped.
After I came back, I ended up writing him some mail asking just exactly what it was that I'd done to make him be such a dick. I'm pretty sure we got that sorted out, though and we've not had a problem since.
Apparently, that's just how Ken is.
Apparently, he doesn't really see that whole 'borders' issue.
It would be like me taking something from subbes' journal and bringing it up in mocking tones on the list. I'm sure she'd be pissed and she'd probably find it hurtful as well.
After my long as hell day with people not being the end all be all of niceness, it was a pretty shitty thing.
I don't care that he knows. I don't care that people who read my journal know. I *do* care when it's brought up in a public forum that I don't feel is mine alone and brought up in order to mock it and poke fun.
It had no relation to anything being discussed and at this point I can only assume he did it to be intentionally mean. ::shrug:: I'm used to that. Just not from people who insist they don't have anything against me.
I think I made a very level headed, if kind of whiney reply...

Thanks for sharing that with a list of people, all of whom don't
necessarily read my journal...
guess I'll just have to get a hell of a lot more selective about
friends groups and who stays on the friends list.

I'm not up for open mocking this week.

And I really am considering doing another cull, doing this friends only, I want a sense of expression. Back when I was deluded into thinking that I could be a writer, all I did was express. And it was always written. Though I've put behind me dreams of being some sort of deep and meaningful prose writer, I still prefer the written word for my brain dumps. It allows me to go back over, critique, discover my own bullshit. But I don't feel safe doing that now.
It's the same reason I can't ever check my mail on someone else's machine without being allowed to clean out the cache afterward. I've been taught not to trust .

And then turned back to the journal and the mess with Rhett.
I read his last reply.
Had a feeling.. and ... checked the friends list. He took me off of his. I've known him for something like 4 years. We've always been friends. And all of a sudden, he's saying that he'll 'remove himself from this association' and taking me off his lil journal friends list. The friends list thing didn't bother me in and of itself. And had it been just about anyone else (except Chad) it wouldn't have made a difference.
But it mattered.
It hurt.
So I wrote a long long IM, even though he was away, asking him to please talk to me about what's up.
Chad went to get some food and just after he said he'd be right back, Rhett came back online. We talked for a bit. Not very enouraging talking until the very end when it seemed we parted at least with a mutual bit of civility.
He just can't read what I write in my journal lately because it brings him down.
That hurts too.
I've got a lot going on in my head right now. Some of it is obnoxiously depressing. I can't really blame him for not wanting to read it, especially the parts where I'm throwing lil hissy fits about him.
Still rather sucks.
But I won't be screaming about it anymore. If he wants to read, he'll read. If he wants to talk, he'll talk. I have to quit trying to force the shape of the world into the shape I want it to be.
It's just not the right thing.

And then I got offline. Talked to Chad until about 5:30 in the morning. He convinced me to take the bong into the bath that I was taking so that I could raise my body temp enough to sleep. I smoked about half that bowl, felt warm and relaxed, and fell asleep with a nice smile on my face. He doesn't just validate my actions and feelings, he points out good in all of my bad and actually seems to think that I'm well adjusted.
That's a point of view can only understand if you know more about my life than I think I'm willing to tell just about everyone.
Chad knows. he also understands
Chuck knows. and he's never really understood.
Jason knew and ...I *think* he understood.
Will knew... but Will was too wrapped up in retelling stories about incarceration and eating everything with a spoon.

And Tom. Tom knew. And he understood. And he never pitied me and I miss him so much and ... well... he's really the reason for all of this depression and emotion.
I never talked about it after he died. I was the one people talked to. Mike, Scott, Cheryl... I was their rock.
And now... I've spent so long not talking about it that I don't think I can. And that scares me.. because I really need to.
But who do I talk to?
The only option feels like Chuck. He's really the only person I know who will be able to understand the almost bizarre anger. I can talk to Chad. But I feel bad because I think I just make him worry about the deaths he hasn't experienced yet and all the words of comfort he doesn't know how to say.
Chuck is enough of a dickhead to just tell me to shutup and stop whining.
I think that's what I need.
He'll let me talk, tell me he knows all about it, and then tell me what to do.
ANd he's been right about that in the past.
But Chuck is always at work when I can find him which means he can't really express himself that well and all the distractions sap him of any eloquence. And when he's not at work he's at school, trying to have a social life, or sleeping.
usually the school or sleeping.

I loved Tom way too much and it's still fucking with me.

SO.... I owe Rhett an apology.
I don't owe Mike a fucking thing.
I owe Chad about 3,000 hugs.
I owe DLBags a phone call.
I owe the debate forum a nice quiet week where I don't tell anyone how STUPID they are too much.
I owe Ken a good digging around in his social life so I can mock him for something.
And I owe it to myself to find some outlet for this grief.

I think that's about it for yesterday.
Today... Dinner is almost ready. The turkey is beeyooteefull. the weird brussel sprout salad looks excellent, and my mom actually let me make the coveted cornbread stuffing.. something I can't tell my sister about because she'll cry favortism and moan about being the peanut butter child and being unloved because of her brown eyes, when the other two of us have blue, and chris has an incredible hazel.

She's a weird chick.

***Scott is someone who was tight friends with Tom. I got ahold of him when Tom died, he ended up trying to sleep with me a lot, and then buggered off to New York, telling me that he just doesn't keep in contact with people and that this would be goodbye. About 2 weeks later I was at Mike's when Scott called for his DAILY check in.
he's a fucker. I'm not being unfair.

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