The Long Haul
I need to write this down, I need to write it, out, to get it clear in my head. There are things I have to learn from my conversations this weekend, I can feel it pressing, pressing... this feeling of parturience... but I can't seem to pick the lessons out. So I will write. Writing allows me to write as I think and then cut and paste and reorganize and make order out of chaos. Gleaning what I think, what I mean, from all the mind-chatter. So here goes...
First, I woke up Saturday at 4am with an erotic story pushing at me, demanding to be written. So I wrote it. Took me 4 hours, but I wrote the damned thing down, all the details the way they needed to be written. When I finished it I was very hot and I should have just gone back to bed and masturbated, but I didn't. So that sexual tension lingered with me most of the day and leant an intensity to most of my interactions.
Next, I hate disappointing people. I used to think I hated it more than feeling disappointed. On Saturday, somehow, I managed to comingle the two in one relationship. And I almost made a huge mistake. I should be grateful that Michael expressed his disappointment to me, and I know I did not react well to it, mainly because his disappointment set something in me resonating. Something I hadn't realized: I, too, am disappointed: in myself, in him. It hurt to realise it. I felt the ache in my solar plexus, and was surprised to find so much emotion trapped there, behind the dam my expectations had become.
I felt hurt and disappointed by his lack of feedback on some things I had shared with him, the gifts I had made of myself, my thoughts, my imagination, and I thought... I thought he didn't value it and so I resolved to stop sharing. He said it was selfish of me to make that decision to cut him off like that, and asked why I was punishing him. I told him I wasn't punishing him--I just didn't want to feel disappointed anymore. So of course he asked why I felt disappointed. I told him that I didn't think he valued me, or our friendship. He was surprised, and asked why I would think that. So I told him that I lately I've felt like bedroom slippers...something comfortable that he slipped into without thinking about it... His response was: "Would you rather I think about it each time, before being comfortable with you?"
Frustration flared. I tried to tell him to forget I'd said anything, but he rarely ever lets me off the hook, and he didn't this time. "There's no going backwards," he said. "We go forwards together, not backwards." He pushed again. "So, what don't you like about me feeling naturally comfortable with you?" And my answer was: "When men get comfortable, they take things for granted." He thought for a moment and then asked "Am I taking you for granted now?"
ARGH! I told him I didn't think it was a good idea for me to answer that question right then, because I did not want to fight with him. When I say that, he knows it is time to back off, ever since that truly horrid fight back in March that almost ended our friendship. But he didn't. Fucking Michael, the only person, other than my therapist, who dares to tread where others don't, who pushes me, challenges me, makes me face my feelings, confronts me with his, and somehow, someway, gets away with it where others do not. Because I know, deep down and without any doubt, that he loves me, and that his intentions are not hurtful, even if the results are. But it doesn't keep me from getting upset when he pushes at me, especially when I ask him not to. He pushed, asking me why I didn't want to answer, was it my animus acting up again? Jesus, talk about bearding the lion in his den! He might as well have asked me if I was PMSing.
I did not want to fight. I remembered to breathe and calmly told him it was not my animus, that I was not feeling aggressive, I was feeling hurt. And so he asked why. Poor man, I was not feeling very forthcoming because I truly did not want to argue, and I think he felt like he was pulling teeth. But I decided to go ahead and come out with all of it, just say what I didn't want to say, fearing I would say it wrong and we'd argue, but offering it up anyway. I told him that I felt unappreciated, that I was hurt by his disappointment, and that I had made some mistakes in judgement and was disappointed in myself and him, that I needed to remember what our relationship was and was not, and be more careful about what I shared. He reacted better than I thought he would. He told me that he appreciated me, that he thought regularly how fortunate he was to have me in his life, and that he was saddened that he had disappointed me.
I told him the disappointment was my fault, my mistake. I should not give/share when I want something in return, regardless of whether or not I realize it. Apparently there are subconscious strings attached. I've tried not to let it matter, tried cutting the strings, very aware that expectation = disappointment. But no mater how hard I try, I want feedback or reciprocation or something more from him than I got sometimes, and those strings are there, creating disappointment out of unmet expectations. I told him it seemed the best thing to do was keep in mind the nature of our friendship, and limit what I shared with him.
This hurt for me to say, and it hurt for him to hear. Our relationship is so intimate, so compelling, so boundless, that making a shift away from the openness and sharing that has defined it almost from the very beginning is a distressing thought. It is a denial of what lies between us. The question begged to be asked--Would our mental affinity and emotional intimacy be negatively affected by such a change? Obviously, it would.
This lead us to discuss my penchant for making changes in myself when something stresses me. This bothers him, he said it is one of my more frustrating qualities, my tendancy to decide that I am the right one to make changes, and to make such changes without consultation. This echoed very strongly the conversation I had with Stephanie about changing myself instead of giving her the opportunity to grow or change. I told him the same thing I told her, that I have no right asking someone else to change, and if I can't get the other person to understand where I am and what I need, then I just stop and change it within. A small internal adjustment, and no more dissatisfaction. I likened it to pushing a spade into the soil to sever roots, keeping the growth of plants under control.
His response was that perhaps I shouldn't be so manipulative of myself and others, and work instead on accepting things as they were. I told him I am working on that, and that he really had no concept of what I was capable of accepting... I told him I had learned to endure the unendurable by twisting something in myself so I could find pleasure in it, and that it is when changing things inside me still doesn't make it acceptable that I resort to manipulation. He took the offensive again, saying thatdeciding to stop sharing things because I don't like how he reacts isn't changing myself, it is just manipulating the flow of information. I told him that cessation was change. That if I drove a spade in at the place that originated the desire for exchange, it would stop, and it would save us both a lot of trouble. He knows me so well. He knows that once I've done something like that I don't go back, that I can't go back, even if I will regret it for the rest of my life, like with Mom. Severance is... death.
He said that if I stopped sharing, or decided to selectively share with him, that it would erode the whole relationship. That he would feel I didn't trust him anymore, and that he would wonder what it was that I was hiding from him. I argued that I wouldn't be hiding anything from him. That if something is stopped or cut, then it is no longer an issue for me, so there is nothing to conceal. It is gone. To this, he said: "Not saying it anymore" does not fix things. I told him that whatever I say seems to aggravate things, making me feel like I had two choices, to speak, or not. And then, damn him, he said the words that changed everything and called everything into question: The choice isn't "speak or not". The choice is "reevaluate the assumptions that my words are based on". Otherwise you are saying, "the absence of words is equivalent to the absence of thought".
I was silent for a long time, thinking, thinking, letting what he had said resonate within me, observing my reactions. He was wise enough to give me that space. After a while he took my hands and kissed them. It brought tears to my eyes. When I asked him why he'd done that, he said it was to remind me that he still loved me.
Finally, I told him that I appreciated his patience with me. I admitted that I tend to react out of fear of hurting or being hurt, and that sometimes I'll do anything to make it stop. He admitted that he was terribly afraid of pain, as well. I told him that the difference is, I know what I am capable of when it comes to pain. Some people say pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin. I say that may be so for most, but not for me. For me, pain is the edge of the coin, and its faces are pleasure and rage.
I told him that he asks me tough questions, makes me look at what I'm doing. And sometimes, sometimes we collide and it hurts. It hurts and I get so angry and I -- sometimes I just want to say or do something that will make him go away. Or just kill the love in me. But I know, even when I am that angry... how much it would hurt him, and THAT just tears me up. And so the rage subsides, and I turn to pleasure again, and the pain's edge upon which it balances.
"We're in it for the long haul, I think," Michael said.
Yes. I do believe so.
First, I woke up Saturday at 4am with an erotic story pushing at me, demanding to be written. So I wrote it. Took me 4 hours, but I wrote the damned thing down, all the details the way they needed to be written. When I finished it I was very hot and I should have just gone back to bed and masturbated, but I didn't. So that sexual tension lingered with me most of the day and leant an intensity to most of my interactions.
Next, I hate disappointing people. I used to think I hated it more than feeling disappointed. On Saturday, somehow, I managed to comingle the two in one relationship. And I almost made a huge mistake. I should be grateful that Michael expressed his disappointment to me, and I know I did not react well to it, mainly because his disappointment set something in me resonating. Something I hadn't realized: I, too, am disappointed: in myself, in him. It hurt to realise it. I felt the ache in my solar plexus, and was surprised to find so much emotion trapped there, behind the dam my expectations had become.
I felt hurt and disappointed by his lack of feedback on some things I had shared with him, the gifts I had made of myself, my thoughts, my imagination, and I thought... I thought he didn't value it and so I resolved to stop sharing. He said it was selfish of me to make that decision to cut him off like that, and asked why I was punishing him. I told him I wasn't punishing him--I just didn't want to feel disappointed anymore. So of course he asked why I felt disappointed. I told him that I didn't think he valued me, or our friendship. He was surprised, and asked why I would think that. So I told him that I lately I've felt like bedroom slippers...something comfortable that he slipped into without thinking about it... His response was: "Would you rather I think about it each time, before being comfortable with you?"
Frustration flared. I tried to tell him to forget I'd said anything, but he rarely ever lets me off the hook, and he didn't this time. "There's no going backwards," he said. "We go forwards together, not backwards." He pushed again. "So, what don't you like about me feeling naturally comfortable with you?" And my answer was: "When men get comfortable, they take things for granted." He thought for a moment and then asked "Am I taking you for granted now?"
ARGH! I told him I didn't think it was a good idea for me to answer that question right then, because I did not want to fight with him. When I say that, he knows it is time to back off, ever since that truly horrid fight back in March that almost ended our friendship. But he didn't. Fucking Michael, the only person, other than my therapist, who dares to tread where others don't, who pushes me, challenges me, makes me face my feelings, confronts me with his, and somehow, someway, gets away with it where others do not. Because I know, deep down and without any doubt, that he loves me, and that his intentions are not hurtful, even if the results are. But it doesn't keep me from getting upset when he pushes at me, especially when I ask him not to. He pushed, asking me why I didn't want to answer, was it my animus acting up again? Jesus, talk about bearding the lion in his den! He might as well have asked me if I was PMSing.
I did not want to fight. I remembered to breathe and calmly told him it was not my animus, that I was not feeling aggressive, I was feeling hurt. And so he asked why. Poor man, I was not feeling very forthcoming because I truly did not want to argue, and I think he felt like he was pulling teeth. But I decided to go ahead and come out with all of it, just say what I didn't want to say, fearing I would say it wrong and we'd argue, but offering it up anyway. I told him that I felt unappreciated, that I was hurt by his disappointment, and that I had made some mistakes in judgement and was disappointed in myself and him, that I needed to remember what our relationship was and was not, and be more careful about what I shared. He reacted better than I thought he would. He told me that he appreciated me, that he thought regularly how fortunate he was to have me in his life, and that he was saddened that he had disappointed me.
I told him the disappointment was my fault, my mistake. I should not give/share when I want something in return, regardless of whether or not I realize it. Apparently there are subconscious strings attached. I've tried not to let it matter, tried cutting the strings, very aware that expectation = disappointment. But no mater how hard I try, I want feedback or reciprocation or something more from him than I got sometimes, and those strings are there, creating disappointment out of unmet expectations. I told him it seemed the best thing to do was keep in mind the nature of our friendship, and limit what I shared with him.
This hurt for me to say, and it hurt for him to hear. Our relationship is so intimate, so compelling, so boundless, that making a shift away from the openness and sharing that has defined it almost from the very beginning is a distressing thought. It is a denial of what lies between us. The question begged to be asked--Would our mental affinity and emotional intimacy be negatively affected by such a change? Obviously, it would.
This lead us to discuss my penchant for making changes in myself when something stresses me. This bothers him, he said it is one of my more frustrating qualities, my tendancy to decide that I am the right one to make changes, and to make such changes without consultation. This echoed very strongly the conversation I had with Stephanie about changing myself instead of giving her the opportunity to grow or change. I told him the same thing I told her, that I have no right asking someone else to change, and if I can't get the other person to understand where I am and what I need, then I just stop and change it within. A small internal adjustment, and no more dissatisfaction. I likened it to pushing a spade into the soil to sever roots, keeping the growth of plants under control.
His response was that perhaps I shouldn't be so manipulative of myself and others, and work instead on accepting things as they were. I told him I am working on that, and that he really had no concept of what I was capable of accepting... I told him I had learned to endure the unendurable by twisting something in myself so I could find pleasure in it, and that it is when changing things inside me still doesn't make it acceptable that I resort to manipulation. He took the offensive again, saying thatdeciding to stop sharing things because I don't like how he reacts isn't changing myself, it is just manipulating the flow of information. I told him that cessation was change. That if I drove a spade in at the place that originated the desire for exchange, it would stop, and it would save us both a lot of trouble. He knows me so well. He knows that once I've done something like that I don't go back, that I can't go back, even if I will regret it for the rest of my life, like with Mom. Severance is... death.
He said that if I stopped sharing, or decided to selectively share with him, that it would erode the whole relationship. That he would feel I didn't trust him anymore, and that he would wonder what it was that I was hiding from him. I argued that I wouldn't be hiding anything from him. That if something is stopped or cut, then it is no longer an issue for me, so there is nothing to conceal. It is gone. To this, he said: "Not saying it anymore" does not fix things. I told him that whatever I say seems to aggravate things, making me feel like I had two choices, to speak, or not. And then, damn him, he said the words that changed everything and called everything into question: The choice isn't "speak or not". The choice is "reevaluate the assumptions that my words are based on". Otherwise you are saying, "the absence of words is equivalent to the absence of thought".
I was silent for a long time, thinking, thinking, letting what he had said resonate within me, observing my reactions. He was wise enough to give me that space. After a while he took my hands and kissed them. It brought tears to my eyes. When I asked him why he'd done that, he said it was to remind me that he still loved me.
Finally, I told him that I appreciated his patience with me. I admitted that I tend to react out of fear of hurting or being hurt, and that sometimes I'll do anything to make it stop. He admitted that he was terribly afraid of pain, as well. I told him that the difference is, I know what I am capable of when it comes to pain. Some people say pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin. I say that may be so for most, but not for me. For me, pain is the edge of the coin, and its faces are pleasure and rage.
I told him that he asks me tough questions, makes me look at what I'm doing. And sometimes, sometimes we collide and it hurts. It hurts and I get so angry and I -- sometimes I just want to say or do something that will make him go away. Or just kill the love in me. But I know, even when I am that angry... how much it would hurt him, and THAT just tears me up. And so the rage subsides, and I turn to pleasure again, and the pain's edge upon which it balances.
"We're in it for the long haul, I think," Michael said.
Yes. I do believe so.
posted by KR | 8/14/2005 11:22:00 PM
4 Comments:
Oh my god I would be so pissed at you (and I almost never get angry). I have had that exact same conversation with my friend Kelly many times. You always seemed a ton like her.
I don't see anything he did wrong to you. You just started being mean to him. Not sharing yourself with someone you pretend to care with is as bad as it comes. It is the SAME as ending part of the friendship. It cuts off the closeness. And, from what I can tell, you're doing it because of your own insecurities instead of anything he really did.
You keep saying you're putting up signs to stop fighting or something, but I don't see them. Why would he? Besides, why would he stop fighting when you say "I'm ending our close relationship?" When you say I'm not going to be as open with you he has no choice but to fight if he cares about you. Your "I'm going to be immature right now" signs don't matter as much as his care for you.
And changing instead of dealing with problems is disrespectful. It can also ruin relationships. Your fear of sharing things with other people can only cause harm.
Everything has meaning, even if only the meaning inherent in cause and effect, action and reaction.
I reacted out of hurt and disappointment. Instead of just allowing myself to feel that way, and let it pass, I decided to try to grab hold of it long enough to analyse my feelings, to reason with my emotional self. And that was irrational. At least for me, in this stage of my emotional development. The object, says my therapist, is to become comfortable with feeling, to stop suppressing... and I can't do that if I'm always thinking critically about what I am feeling.
He did nothing wrong. He just asked 'why' again and again, prodding me down a road I did not want to walk in that moment, because he was afraid I would do something irrevocable. And his fear was justified.
Emotionally, I am 12 to 14 years old. Circumstances dictated that emotions were unsafe, a luxury I could not afford, and later, did not want the bother. So many people around me seemed thrown about on emotional seas, and I, in the ivory tower of the intellect, thought myself very superior. I have since learned that I am an emotional coward, and that the truly brave people are the ones to are open to emotion, who allow themselves to feel, even knowing the pain that awaits them.
Without a doubt, he cares for me. He has been a very important part of my support system over the course of an emotionally trying and turbulent year. Despite the very radical changes in my behaviour, from the rational, controlled, even-keeled Kelly to the sexually frustrated and emotionally unhinged Kelly. He has stood by me, offered comfort and assistance and encouragement despite my rages, my tears, my scratching, kicking, and screaming.
His friendship--our friendship--is something I treasure. And I, I have been there for him, too, in ways I would never post here, because this is my chronicle, my journey of self-discovery, not his.
The things you say are not news to me. If you look closely, you will see that I have said much the same thing, only with more words. But I respect you for saying them, all the same.
Personally I believe that proper reasoning will never suppress emotions. It will rather channel the roots of them into proper understanding and change how you feel. Letting time or patience "fix" things doesn't change them at all. Facing the emotions doesn't seem to fix anything either.
That's not making much sense yet. I am trying to say that whatever you did to suppress emotions was improper reasoning. I don't think that trying to reason away emotions is necessarily bad. You'd just figure out what you did wrong and feel the positive emotions that go along with hope from learing what you did wrong. Reasoning (done properly) doesn't suppress. It says that emotions are what life is all about.
This is obviously written at 3am. Time for bed. Maybe you can find the meaning behind this and it'll help. I can only hope, haha. ;-) Have a great night.
CD: From the Author's Note to the novel Fractal Mode, by Piers Anthony:
One thing those of you who had happy or secure childhoods should understand about those of us who did not: We who control our feelings, who avoid conflicts at all costs or seem to seek them, who are hypersensitive, self-critical, compulsive, workaholic, and above all, survivors--we are not that way from perversity, and we cannot just relax and let it go. We have learned to cope in ways you never had to.
I stumbled upon this a dozen years ago, and unfortunately, it is as true for me today as it was then. Hopefully though, hopefully, it will not always be so.
What makes sense to you, what seems common sense to you, what seems to you should follow as naturally as A is followed by B, does not to me. I am a side-ways thinker, conditioned to be a survivor, and what its logical and intuitive to you is different from what is logical and intuitive to me. I have long recognizes my dysfunction, and lacking the tools to tackle it myself, am doing so with the help of my therapist. You can say 'you just' and 'I don't think' and 'doesn't make sense' all you want, but you are unlikely to make an impact on me that way. I already know what 'norms' think. I just don't understand their thought processes with regards to emotional topics, because my training field was very, very different from the norm. And if I don't understand the process, it is hard to duplicate the results. If you follow my meaning.
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