Lately I’ve been formulating a few new conclusions: the first being that I’ve been quite an immature brat for the majority of my life, and I’m getting no satisfaction from being that way.
Not that I ever did! But now it’s just much more impossible to ignore.
M. and I had a confrontation last week after that trip to Toronto debacle, and in his eyes I’ve become mean. Justifiably angry about a lot of things, but ultimately very mean. And I wasn’t, initially. But back then I wasn’t so frustrated and so bent out of shape about my life–I still had some idea that it could work out okay.
I might have an inkling of that at the moment–little “good” things that happen that let me know I shouldn’t only see the negative at all times. Tiny little gifts of luck that there are reasons to hope. M. also told me it was obvious I was hating myself completely, and that I’d lost all my passion. I know he’s been thinking that for a number of years but he’s also been incredibly patient about me. Understanding and forgiving too. Maybe we’ve come to a point from which we can move forward.
So I’m going to try and move forward.
Thinking about RS again, I tried to apply M’s observations and I realized just why things turned out the way they did. I chose someone who was ultimately very generous and loving–really just someone who wants to give that to others, but I was so fucked up about myself that I never understood that clearly. I wanted someone who had enough faith in me to encourage me to be the best person I could be, and he did that: but when he said it out loud (once he told me he wanted to be here to “kick my ass into shape” so that I’d really pursue my goals with passion) I was actually so shocked by what he said that I got angry at him. He called me several times to apologise for saying it–and even said he was begging me on bended knee to forgive him. I should have realized then what I’d pushed away out of my own cowardice. And he still tried, after that, but much less aggressively–with gifts of books and diagnostic tools, rare medicines from India I could never find here. When he gave up his interest in Homeopathy, it was because he closed the door on me and he wanted no part of that common interest anymore. In his eyes I’d failed myself, even with all his encouragement: it’s the same kind of dismissal my father must have felt, though his encouragement was no encouragement. I’d fallen into so much of my own failure and my own fears that by the time RS and I actually met, I was terrified of even being around him. And so angry in my frustration that all we could do was disagree with each other all the time. I had let him down–despite his tremendous confidence in me; and then I’d begun to push him away because I doubted his sincerity and his love for me. I understand how far this pattern goes now–and how long I’ve held it in place.
In the past I’d always thought my choices in men were blind–completely idiotic in some cases, but it seems that on some level I do know what I want and I do choose good people. M. for his unconditional love, and RS for his pure good will and depth of love. It took me until he was gone to recognize that. I don’t want to continue making the same mistakes forever. I also don’t want to be jumping through hoops about what others see as my potential anymore–I just want to become the human being I am supposed to become, with my own spirit not just intact but thriving.
It’s the only potential that matters.
Recent Comments