The other day I took the Captain out to pee and examined the lawn. Dead yellow grass as far as the eye could see. Seven hours later I was back out there looking at the same spot and the yard was full of two-inch green shoots. Also the crocuses had come through the leaf pile, and our front yard tree was covered in red bud casings. It happened that fast.
Also, I had another lucid dream, only this time it was easier. La Llorona was chasing me and my conscious mind kicked in. I thought about how I'd done this in the previous dream and felt honestly like I was cheating to do it again, but I pushed the thought aside and pulled rank again. Started to wake up and said "no, don't wake up, this has possibilities." Next thing I know I'm flying figure eights around La very confused Llorona, blowing raspberries like Peeves the Poltergeist and chanting "Nyeah nyeah nyeah! I'm dreaming and you're not!"
I've been having dreams for a while where I'm coherent enough to have not only surface thoughts, but also feelings and concerns and things that don't get vocalized. I even think about previous dreams and know they were dreams. Then when I wake up, it all makes sense--no dream-logic. But taking over the dream twice in one week? I wonder if that could be the Prozac.
Showing posts with label spring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spring. Show all posts
March 21, 2009
March 17, 2009
bird is the word. papa oom mow mow.
What's the name of the Midwestern bird whose call sounds like "DO WHAAAT? DO WHAAAT? DO WHAAAT? ... BOUNCY BOUNCY BOUNCY!"?
Because that bird is the shit.
Because that bird is the shit.
March 15, 2009
Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
Two years later and I'm actually proud it happened. Humans are so weird.
You can be so completely attached to another person that the notion of letting them go under any circumstances is beyond the pale. Choosing such a heartless abadonment and then being happy about it? That's just unthinkable. What are you, some kind of monster? You'd have to be crazy to blah blah blah.
So yeah, we broke up. And yeah, it hurt like hell for a year. For most of that year I literally grieved. I pined and obsessed. It was all through my dreams, where I could--and did--cry. I raged, I blamed him, I told myself I had to work up the courage to go back because I felt I couldn't take the loneliness for one more second. I felt like it was a moral failure on my part that I never quite got pathetic enough to go back on my knees and make him forgive me for bringing out his rage and contempt by being flawed and human.
I'd done it before, but this time my stubborn pride wouldn't let me make things better. I didn't want to pretend I was wrong or sorry when I wasn't, just so I could have the old relationship back. In my eyes, this made me the bad guy. Petty. Had to have my way. So arrogant I'd betray a friend rather than lie to them and make them like me again, etc. etc. But I had drawn a line: if he didn't come back, I could not chase him.
Too many times before, I'd done just that, and I always felt so diminished afterward. Pigheaded as he was, he never would have returned or apologized first. I could do it, and I saw myself as a martyr because I did. Yay for me, I had the courage to take the blame I often felt was undeserved, and my prize was having him like me again.
So fucking disordered, but I needed it. And you know, he always wondered why I hate love songs and chick flicks so much. Well, basically it's because everyone hates having that black mirror shoved in their face. I think I just can't stand watching people celebrate the same kind of twisted codependence I secretly suffered. I have just enough insight to recognize dysfunction, but as for applying it to my own life? Still working on that. Lots of denial in there to cut through first.
And time went by. Slowly I began to realize that what I labeled as obstinacy and pride were actually protecting me from allowing my poor sense of boundaries and ragingcodependence to keep me in a bad situation. Nothing would have changed if I went back. It would be a huge fuck-you to my sense of self-preservation. Another fit of martyrdom would have been killing the first healthy impulse I'd had in ages--to not fix everything at my own expense. Deep down, I knew this from the start, but I tried pretty hard to bury it in layers of obfuscatory bullshit, and for a while it worked.
By the time the anger and obsession began to fade, I started to see how emotionally unhealthy things were. I had never realized just how much the relationship had warped when I wasn't paying attention. It was rusted through. Nothing held it together now but my determination to keep it alive at all costs. That was when the grieving stopped and I began to move on.
Starting a few months ago, I realized that, far from missing the way things were, I was actually celebrating its end. I was relieved! For the first time, I thanked my stubbornness instead of being ashamed of it. That petty little line in the sand that I drew in anger had finally put an end to a relationship that ought to have died naturally many years before.
Kids, they don't know any better. Kids think friends are always forever and that every love is the only true love they'll ever have. Kids don't recognize the signs when the time comes to stick a fork in a relationship. I missed this stage of development when I was growing up, and that has led to years of animosity and dysfunction. The people involved grew up and went their separate ways in life, and our friendship began chafing as it ceased to grow along with us.
The resulting swan song droned on, unheard and unheeded by either of us, until what should have been the happiest memories of my life were polluted by the regret and resentment of the latter years. That makes me sad.
So many grudges and self-censorships, trying to be a different person from the one I was, just so someone else would like me. All because I was in love with someone who didn't exist anymore. Oh, the depression, the recriminations. The self-loathing. Why wasn't I good enough? Why did he change? Woh, woh, woh.
Imagine my surprise when I realized that this, all of this, was normal. Normal and okay. A vital part of being human. Imagine my relief. It's not about finding company in misery, it's about finally connecting to a major component of interpersonal relations.
So kids, when you're in a relationship and things change, don't be scared to change with them. When the skin you're in gets too tight and starts to itch, try shedding it. Spend your whole life terrified that your guts will spill out because there's nothing left to hold them in, and you'll never get to see what's actually underneath. For me, it turned out to be a much thicker skin, and it fits pretty good.
You can be so completely attached to another person that the notion of letting them go under any circumstances is beyond the pale. Choosing such a heartless abadonment and then being happy about it? That's just unthinkable. What are you, some kind of monster? You'd have to be crazy to blah blah blah.
So yeah, we broke up. And yeah, it hurt like hell for a year. For most of that year I literally grieved. I pined and obsessed. It was all through my dreams, where I could--and did--cry. I raged, I blamed him, I told myself I had to work up the courage to go back because I felt I couldn't take the loneliness for one more second. I felt like it was a moral failure on my part that I never quite got pathetic enough to go back on my knees and make him forgive me for bringing out his rage and contempt by being flawed and human.
I'd done it before, but this time my stubborn pride wouldn't let me make things better. I didn't want to pretend I was wrong or sorry when I wasn't, just so I could have the old relationship back. In my eyes, this made me the bad guy. Petty. Had to have my way. So arrogant I'd betray a friend rather than lie to them and make them like me again, etc. etc. But I had drawn a line: if he didn't come back, I could not chase him.
Too many times before, I'd done just that, and I always felt so diminished afterward. Pigheaded as he was, he never would have returned or apologized first. I could do it, and I saw myself as a martyr because I did. Yay for me, I had the courage to take the blame I often felt was undeserved, and my prize was having him like me again.
So fucking disordered, but I needed it. And you know, he always wondered why I hate love songs and chick flicks so much. Well, basically it's because everyone hates having that black mirror shoved in their face. I think I just can't stand watching people celebrate the same kind of twisted codependence I secretly suffered. I have just enough insight to recognize dysfunction, but as for applying it to my own life? Still working on that. Lots of denial in there to cut through first.
And time went by. Slowly I began to realize that what I labeled as obstinacy and pride were actually protecting me from allowing my poor sense of boundaries and ragingcodependence to keep me in a bad situation. Nothing would have changed if I went back. It would be a huge fuck-you to my sense of self-preservation. Another fit of martyrdom would have been killing the first healthy impulse I'd had in ages--to not fix everything at my own expense. Deep down, I knew this from the start, but I tried pretty hard to bury it in layers of obfuscatory bullshit, and for a while it worked.
By the time the anger and obsession began to fade, I started to see how emotionally unhealthy things were. I had never realized just how much the relationship had warped when I wasn't paying attention. It was rusted through. Nothing held it together now but my determination to keep it alive at all costs. That was when the grieving stopped and I began to move on.
Starting a few months ago, I realized that, far from missing the way things were, I was actually celebrating its end. I was relieved! For the first time, I thanked my stubbornness instead of being ashamed of it. That petty little line in the sand that I drew in anger had finally put an end to a relationship that ought to have died naturally many years before.
Kids, they don't know any better. Kids think friends are always forever and that every love is the only true love they'll ever have. Kids don't recognize the signs when the time comes to stick a fork in a relationship. I missed this stage of development when I was growing up, and that has led to years of animosity and dysfunction. The people involved grew up and went their separate ways in life, and our friendship began chafing as it ceased to grow along with us.
The resulting swan song droned on, unheard and unheeded by either of us, until what should have been the happiest memories of my life were polluted by the regret and resentment of the latter years. That makes me sad.
So many grudges and self-censorships, trying to be a different person from the one I was, just so someone else would like me. All because I was in love with someone who didn't exist anymore. Oh, the depression, the recriminations. The self-loathing. Why wasn't I good enough? Why did he change? Woh, woh, woh.
Imagine my surprise when I realized that this, all of this, was normal. Normal and okay. A vital part of being human. Imagine my relief. It's not about finding company in misery, it's about finally connecting to a major component of interpersonal relations.
So kids, when you're in a relationship and things change, don't be scared to change with them. When the skin you're in gets too tight and starts to itch, try shedding it. Spend your whole life terrified that your guts will spill out because there's nothing left to hold them in, and you'll never get to see what's actually underneath. For me, it turned out to be a much thicker skin, and it fits pretty good.
April 21, 2008
Photo Post: April 2008
I took a whole mess of pictures on our bike ride yesterday. They got pruned down to the 30 best for web joy purposes. Here are some highlights.
Click for the whole gallery.
Click for the whole gallery.
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