I had a day at work.  That means I spend the day being the person that people expect and accept that I am.  Mostly, I actually am that person.  Sometimes I’m just wishing everyone dead and have my game face on like wearing period panties.  But after all these years, I’m mostly just who I turned out to be, which in this case is someone associated with distance learning best practices and college strategic planning and academic program assessment.  I had my best work bud, Patti, in the mix and my next best one too, Marta, in successive meetings, making eye contact mid boardroom typa deal.  I need to spend about 150k on a learning management system, which is a thing you put classes on and run them out of.  Every class that we migrate over to that new system costs money.  So only the ones that are halfway decent can go, and everyone else gets busted back to a classroom in the real world.  And let’s be clear: many educators are getting paid to teach classes that they do not at all show up for, and as long as students get an A in those, mostly they don’t complain.  There are classes that have no syllabus, no grades, no evidence of interaction whatsoever.  Then there are the “best practices” standards, which my name is equal to, but I do not meet them.  I know what they are, and I do not meet them fully.  I do not engage with my students daily any more than I eat the right amount of vegetables per day, drink the right amount of wine, think the most productive of thoughts – I do not meet them any more than I meet ANY standard, which is not at all in any case.  I say this.  And people pause and I can see them thinking “whew” or “wtf”, either of which is fine by me. I teach like I (would prefer to) live; I would rather you read some stuff and I read some stuff and some of it was the same but some of it was different (but similar, like, ya know, ABOUT SOME SHIT really, some kinda way) and that we just trusted that was so of each other, and that in the aggregate it was adding up to some measure of an introspective life respectively, which included trying not to be a total asshole if at all possible and sometimes even better than that - so, go read/think some stuff and I will too, and we’ll talk sometimes about it, when that would be useful, and sometimes we’ll talk and it won’t be useful, but that impasse might be useful to one or both of us, and it will go on like that until the end.  I say to the e-Learning monitor, “As for assessing my courses, it’s like asking if I look fat in this, I don’t want you to answer me honestly at all.”  She nods.  Patti laughs.  But she knows I’m serious even as she is dead-set on idealism.  She has to be, she has told me.  The three foster kids she adopted engage in behaviors for which they are about to age into ‘could be tried as an adult’.  About that, I can’t comment further in detail actually.  But the point is that she and I have come to a kind of crossroads: We can’t heal people nor they us in that process.  She cannot heal those children.  She can provide them a context in which they might heal, but that’s it.  And I tell her, truly, in my opinion that is not a failure of adoption, it isn’t a failure of any kind, every person’s life belongs to him or her ultimately.  Even children you have made inside your own body, once they leave it, their lives are more in their own hands than anywhere ultimately.  And they don’t owe it to you, it is not in existence to affirm yours, and they can end it even if they must, and you will die over it maybe, but tough titties.  That’s the way it is.  She can still TRY, of course, and feel obligated to do as good a job as possible of course, but that’s HER life, not theirs, and it’s a decent one as is.  As I am talking to her, I know, this is true of me too.  I cannot heal Aaron.  And if the context of our relationship could have aided that, it probably might have done so by now.  And regardless of whether he is what caused me damage or not, he cannot ultimately heal me of that damage like a magic trick.  He can TRY of course, which might enrich his own life, and it MAY help me (it couldn’t hurt, for sure), but it would probably help him more, and I’d still be in possession of my own life and how it feels and what it means (if anything).  I show this to the kids, finally, and we debate its merits.  Then I say to Ears, ‘You know what I’m really talking about right?’  Yup.  ‘Do not use people [women] as a means to an end, it's fucked, and you will surely not be able to gauge that correctly in any case.’  Yup.  ‘You okay with that?’  It scares the shit out of me really, either way, your being in charge of me or my being in charge of me.  ‘Fair enough.’  My having loved Aaron as best I could did not result in what I wanted for myself or what I wanted for him, did not succeed in effecting either, so by either measure, selfish or selfless/idealistic, it failed.  I would have to measure it differently, some third rail, and I don’t know what that would be at this point.  Patti has a little scrap of paper taped to her desk that reads “faith”. 

"That Uncertain Feeling"

friday is only half over

love home trust body idealism faith scrutiny ability sorrow joy past future present ... I've given all I had of all my concrete and abstract nouns. spent and still coming up short. and unable to quite imagine how to replenish myself. it's nobody's fault, really, the newborns or the husbands or the friends. nobody's but mine. but still, I can see how a(n even) weaker version of myself, drained like this, might be tempted to weep if someone just threw a song at me. ya know?

Rose Polenzani & Rose Cousins: The Book Of Love (The Magnetic Fields)
the decemberists - angels and angles (repost)

The Decemberists – Of Angels And Angles

The Decemberists – Of Angels And Angles

The video is stupid of course - don't watch it, just play it LOUD, really loud. And run a mile at daybreak. High rec

http://m.bbc.com/news/science-environment-29545469 and http://psychcentral.com/news/2013/07/27/love-hormone-oxytocin-tied-to-social-anxiety-fear-in-mice/57652.html

That pretty much explains everything. Why I alternate between fucking his brains loose and feeling like he might murder me. My brain is sad toast :/

I remember the first time I saw Danny's work, long before his first show and I started to buy it then more of it, a piece that resonates and then I meditate on why then I just like it. The Girl didn't like this one, said it was too desolate. I loved it immediately. Scott said it was one of his favorites too. It was really good to see him. He and I have a state of distant friendship after years of layered memory that makes seeing him feel familiar totally yet he's at a distance that he cares but not get bent out of shape type cares. I mean, if I put my arm in a wood chipper he'd be like that must really hurt and he'd really mean it and that'd be it. 

Him: You're like the horse in Animal Farm.
Me:
Him: Ya know? Dropped dead? "Everything can be solved if you work harder"?
Me: LOLOL, um no, I don't remember...(I look it up)...what does that make you?, I ask, reading  the character list.
Him: Are you looking up a synopsis? Seriously?
Me: Well? What? The pigs killed the horse, so.
Him: See what I mean?!
Me: Says here the horse was the donkey's only friend.
Him: Jesus, you're such a dork. The horse was a control freak work happy dork, that's really all I remember.
Me: Sounds like what a cynical donkey [jackass] would say.
Him: Just saying. Work might not set you free.
Me: You got a better idea?
Him: (sigh)
Me: So, I'm going to make you a flowchart of your related jealousy and fidelity issues, by the way - that way you can see clearly how they're connected, for when you see the counselor.
Us: haha haha haha haha
Me: You have driven me insane.
Him: I know.

"You know greed has nothing to do with money right?" (She didn't know.) Iyanla then explained to her that greed is taking more than you give. Oh ok, Shoya said, seeming relieved and suddenly pointing out a million things she'd done to make the project work. But as Iyanla pointed out, all of her examples were of her doing things to invest in the outcome she wanted. She did this and this and this because she wanted this and this and that for herself. She was investing in her agenda. 'That's not giving,' she told her." ~from I Knew But Still

(duh, lol.  and that shit is as funny as it isn't easy, cuz you think you've thought around that corner only to be investing in an outcome of your being able to knock that shit off, and you then you suck at that for a long while ...)

"The fact that man senses his finiteness everywhere and cannot be satisfied with any of it points to a hidden possibility in his nature.  He must have another root of his Being than that of his finiteness.  If he has no pre-knowledge of the unknowable he would lack the urge to enquire.  But he seeks after Being itself, after the Infinite and the Other.  Only this can give him satisfaction." ~ from General Psychopathology

"Intense experiences of a spiritual type may occur during prolonged periods of isolation, physical deprivation or emotional stress.  Spiritual awareness is also said to arise from contemplation of works of art or intense concentration on a task, such that the separation between subject and object becomes less apparent [i.e. tantra].  This includes retreat and religious worship and ritual.  Ecstatic mystical experiences may occur spontaneously but periods of intense reflection or indecision have often occurred beforehand.  There may also be a link between such awareness and an ability to replace the usual focus on oneself with a concern for and interest in others. Religious and secular systems of morality (in contrast for narrower concepts of moralism) concur that we flourish through our ethical and loving actions towards others.  This suggests that although spiritual perception is not usually the result of an effort of will, certain states of mind may favour its appearance.  It also suggests that spirituality is a response to the world.  Rather than cultivation or improvement of an illusory self, it may involve being moved by what is other than oneself.  It is communication of something within a relationship, an interaction." ~ from Conceptualizing Spirituality for Medical Research and Health Service Provision

Now that I don't have Facebook, I have to put my stupid(er) shit here too

Update: I saw my shrink.  And yeah, No.

(armscrossy) 

I feel bone-ass crazy anymore.  I can’t tell what is reasonable or not, I can’t tell if it’s me or is it him, can’t tell my own ass from a hole in the ground.  Even if he is crazy, now I am too anyway so how would I know? Or what would it matter?  Or…I have no idea.  I tried to hang on to certain principles, all that shit about what energy you put out blabla.  Then I tried to hang on to moral bottom lines: some things you just don’t do (“True friends stab you in the front.” Oscar Wilde, indeed).  But that’s just a thing, you don’t have to believe that and it is not a Truth despite Kant’s vouching for it (I got that vid below from JDean who noticed that in just about all ways, even if we’re talking about course caps and student parking, my mind is stuck in extreme deontology, so he thought I should have the word for it, and I passed that along to Aaron because his word is consequentialism, but he had no interest discussing philosophy (fair enough), and would only be interested in getting bent out of shape over JDean because Aaron seems intent on driving me insane…unless he’s right and I’m already insane and more apt to commit adultery or any atrocity known to human behavior and just am too stubborn to admit…), so to hell with that too.  People fuck each other over, marriage is a 50/50 crapshoot, and if it fails he’ll break up with me the same way probably but he thinks he never will.  (Is that NORMAL? I mean, I have to admit that’s probably TYPICAL…I guess….) All I know is we go round and round about such things as John friending me on fucking Facebook (I wish him no ill, but talking to John was like talking to a brick anyway so why the hell would I do that since I already have a cinder block right the fuck in front of me after all?), and that is utterly beside any point, the point is I’m sick to death not only of this betrayal hangover not to mention having been worn out in the first place even before that by Aaron’s irrational jealousy about EVERYTHING but he won’t listen just JohnJohnJohn until I killed Facebook altogether having really not much but antipathy for the social media which was only serving the purpose of keeping my father from calling me directly on the phone (God forbid) and which had become a means for me to turn around and stalk my own husband just like he had always always stalked me because I AM NOW CRAZY.  So fine, fuck it, have it your way. 

(pause for about second of peace….wait for it…..)

And then he wanted to talk about Bale.  At which point my head blew the fuck off and I gave up all hope of sanity ever reentering my life ever.  And if I could keep to that, I think it might be just the ticket, I’ll just kiss my fucking mind goodbye entirely as a useless pile of neuroses and just ignore everything it tells me about anything more important than what do you think we want for dinner.

If I had to “think”, which I cannot anymore, I’d say that I had it wrong all along.  That I’ve been the crazy one, and that at the moment when he said “I don’t love you, I just thought I did”, the buffer around my  self, my “identity”, disappeared, and I was left staring at the basic truth: I am a shrieking soul.  My mind is fucked, my body resonates with that always sleepless and hive prone, and under all that, for no good reason (I don’t belong to any tortured club, after all – I’m straight and white and middle class, so fuck me), my spirit is SCREAMING.  I came into the world not crying but SCREAMING. 

I dream: I’m in a house and a cocker spaniel runs by, jumps into the kitchen sink and down the disposer, grinding itself into nothing, and a fat black cocker tries to follow but gets stuck and dies half ass sticking up out of the sink.  Then I look around, and everywhere there are souls trying to get the fuck out of wherever we are, and this domestic space is just a mirage of haven, and outside are more souls wandering around like this, either lost or mistakenly assuming they’re alive and many are simply desperate, slamming themselves into anything that looks like escape.  I’m supposed to help these souls get out of here but I don’t know how, I’m trapped myself.  Aaron calls on the phone to tell me he has found a new job – are you coming home? Yes, later…but I suspect he is also stuck in one of these places and is one of those mistakenly assuming he isn’t dead.  I hang up the phone, look around at the spirit carnage as if I have to clean this shit up, and I SCREAM (myself awake).  And I laid there, and truly believe(d): That is real.

Or at this point, my nerves are shot and I’m just plain crazy. 

I must be.  Because at the end of the day, if he wants to (re)marry me so badly, then don’t I get a big diamond ring and shit (armscrossy)?  And he’s thrilled with that idea.  And I think, Welp then at least you maybe can focus your energies on that instead of on making me crazy and that might be good(!), for all I know.

Koan

Relationship Koan What is holding us together, in some ways closer than ever for the exposure in it? Sex. What is ripping us apart, inexorable as mortality itself grinding us into dust? Sex.

Answer: I'm going to buy a new purse today.

And in the end, I'll probably give in again to being stalked in my own life (some more) and I'll get off Facebook, but only because actually I use FB mostly to keep an eye on him and I'm bloody sick of that shit addiction I've picked up from him at least as much as I am sick of the smoking. I don't want to look see ponder infer or deduce what he is doing behind my back or right in front of my face with whoever is the selfie titcrack addict

example: Django Girl, like a shih tzu, pet it and regret it

 of his today anymore...etc.

If he's not going to tell me, it isn't worth knowing; because in that case, we are not together.

Ollabelle - Get Back Temptation

I got us both a self-disclosure journal so we could practice "deep listening", ala Thich Nhat Hahn.

came and I opened to this page

Answers: 

It sucked.
It sucked.
Should avoid each other like the plague.
At least we're not niggers.
It sucks/you do it.
Italians: we will kill you, and each other, and we cook really well.

I don't know when or how (when we got married I would say but he would disagree) being with Aaron became the same thing as being. But it did (a fact, one of the few, on which we agree). It is as unthinkable that we are not together as it is untenable in its current state of togetherness as it is laborious to amend that state into something sustainable. And I'm tired of trying to both put back it together and somehow be my own person and all this pressure to be FINE everywhichway allatonce, "working on myself" as my contribution to the wellness of our relationship, all of it, I just want to stick a fork in my eye a lot of the time. And what's worst is I'm the one insisting on all this oppressive wellness because I don't know how not to drag myself/him/us through what's required like it or not because that's one of my jobs in this relationship (another fact we agree on, and both hate).

But really, I want to lie here instead and smoke and jerk off until my bills are overdue and a mile high and my body doesn't worry me because I don't care (my wrinkles could be unabashedly unmoisurized, fucking yay) and I've fallen into some hole in myself where nobody knows what I'm thinking not even me and I won't care because I won't know about it.

I don't want any of that really, but I feel like I do. It's not an option, though, whether I feel like it or not. There are kids here. The conditions of our relationship are the conditions of their childhood. So I have to want what is right, which is ultimately what I *do want*, even just for the adults' sake too, whether I *feel like* doing the work of it or not (which I often do not). Try to hold that thought why dontcha? We have to. Both of us. Whether we fucking feel like it or not.

For Aaron, who doesn't much care to read my writing if it's about him, because what threat is there to uncover in it if I'm not writing about sucking Dave's (or whoever, pick a phantom, any phantom, dead or alive) dick?, and what is the point in reading for anything but threatening phantom dick sucking secrets?, but whom I love anyway (I feel your pain, baby):

"Reconciliation"

Fuck it
let's be terrible together
broke and sick
bill collectors calling unanswered
like your psycho mother relentless
and my dad after happy hour
flowers dead in the boxes
us buried in butts, Marlboro man's bitches
fucked fat and pretty happy
let's leave ourselves
well enough alone
untended and unvoiced, mostly
gone to worried-mind seed
just let it be til death do us part this time
Love of my life

 

Astrology 101: WHAT IS VIRGO LIKE? Virgos are the problem solvers of the world. This sign has the patience, analytical ability and mental tenacity to sort out the obstacles that would stop other people. Virgos take the necessary time to find the solutions. When most people would be throwing up their hands in defeat, Virgo is just getting started. They are the great improvers of the zodiac, always thinking of ways to make things better. Some would say that Virgo is critical, though the criticisms they offer are usually intended to be constructive. In an effort to be helpful, they point out the details that others don't see. This sign has a reputation for being freakishly neat and tidy. Indeed, many an organization gives credit to a Virgo for keeping the group on point and moving forward in a logical and efficient way. They are often leaders who demonstrate their leadership by leading themselves with integrity and discipline. The area of health, fitness and nutrition is one where Virgos shine. They have a natural affinity for living things and find it easy to nurture growth in others. Many Virgos have a green thumb, as well!

[that kinda makes me want to blow my fucking head clean off]

 

I send heart energy down my arms across his back.  I think recoiling, I’d hate to have my hands elsewhere or another’s hands on me, some(one) stranger, and I wonder if I’m projecting that or if in fact he sexually abused himself from May-July.

I know one thing for sure: I was (am) an integrated self-possessed adult, and yet I am a kind of shattered after just one big helping.  What does a steady diet of take-backsies love and intimate manipulation do to the mind of a child and across the arc of a lifetime?  When I think about it that way, it’s a wonder to me that he never committed suicide (more). 

sara lov - my body is a cage (arcade fire) (repost)

VIRGO  TODAY: "You'll say goodbye to a fantasy and come to accept that there really is no happily ever after — only a happy today over and over for as long as you decide to be happy."

To a word, that's almost exactly what my shrink said to me yesterday. Which to a Virgo looks like the most daunting of tasks EVER. What does it even mean? What is happy without some pursuit of an Ideal stirred into it? Happy is having Faith. And Faith comes into my existence materially in my relation to others, where it is tried and proven. Making pesto is a spiritual practice. Or so I believe(d). But. I put too much Faith in Aaron, not in the sense that he failed me but in the sense that I located my own Faith in another too much and I don't know how not to do that. I know (believe) that what people call God is actually indwelling, it is at the base of ourselves a little portal through which we are suffused with Everything more or less to the degree we can keep that open, the 'transparent eyeball'. And yet in practice, my own portal lies elsewhere inside others, outside my own control. I can control it when I am alone but then after a while it feels about the size of a peehole in the snow.  Is that a problem of motherhood? Of loverhood? Of idealized friendship? (Am I just retarded?) (I'm probably just retarded.)

"You decide how you will feel. Not him." What am I? The Dali Fucking Lama? I don't think so. "You know it's true. I'm not making excuses for him or letting him off the hook of work. But torturing yourself is a choice you're making." (And I think about my thinking, how the sound of his pants coming off then hitting the floor and the belt buckle clangs on the tile, that familiar sound sequence sends a wave of sickgrief washing over me, his hands about to be on someone else in my head, the time it took him to unbuckle are the seconds in which he might have thought of me and stopped instead...it's true, I'm making that up and torturing myself with it...hotel rooms are carpeted anyway...) I don't know how to stop. "You're rushing a grief process, which is only going to prolong it; accept your grief as grief, pure and simple, it doesn't have to take any other shape of thought, you don't have to put it in order so you can put it away."

OK so today is today. I'm going to make one of my sister's recipes for a late dinner with Aaron, which for me will only tangentially have anything to do with food as such, though the degree to which I will take care to make it come out delicious will be the degree to which I am drawing love/strength from my sister into me through that process, and the degree to which I will be deciding to be happy today pouring my love materially into Aaron and feeling good that it's there working it's way through his guts. I'm still not sure how to make that an "exchange of parity" (?), but I suppose I could at least be more transparent. From now on, the answer to the daily question "what's for dinner?" is: Idealization, it's what's for dinner. (Or pizza.)

walking across the Brooklyn Bridge in each his typical mood

“You know what a relationship is about to you. The other person has an entirely different set of reasons for being there.”

I’m on this committee (of course I am, one of a billion) with this guy I’ve known for forever.  We’ve worked together about 15 years, in various capacities, and the trajectory of our inner lives have been parallel in many ways.  I did yoga certs, he did Reiki.  We both have been quasi-Buddhist practitioners inside other belief systems, eclectic God+Energy theories self-invented systems of thinking, and failing, and rethinking. I took his head off this morning over something I don’t even care that much about.  Then he walked onto the elevator, the doors shut, he said “What’s up?” and I said “My husband left me….for starters…” and then he blew off his next meeting to kill lunch with me and listen.  Without judgment.  With discernment. 

I cannot fully express how grateful I felt for that.  So I won’t try.

He understands things about me that most of my other friends just don’t. Examples: when I brush my teeth for two minutes or not, that is a spiritual discipline that I am either failing (usually) or succeeding to hold myself to, and to that end, I brush my teeth in the shower, then feel guilty (I should be able to do it without the comfort of warm water), then fail anyway (always in a hurry, and I also just flat out forget in the lull of the warm water) and feel worse, then buy an egg timer and take into the shower, then it gets wet and it stops working and I think “serves me right”; when I fill up my car with gas, I am always irritated by the now missing holder thingy that all gas stations have removed from their pumps because of theft drive-offs and so I’m stuck outside holding the damn thing, and I admonish myself every time for my irritation at that, and I say a prayer for the world, since it wouldn’t be like that if there hadn’t been more and more theft of gas, which is a clusterfuck of class warfare and climate slaughter, so the least I can do is pump and pray; I could go on like this all day.  Every minute of every day has a spiritual choice in it (that I am usually failing), and I am aware of that always, and am trying not to be an energy-asshole.  The main ethical challenge for me is being energy-charitable with my spirit.  Because if I am not able to do what Tom did for me today, such as be at peace in the face of pain and thus spiritually generous, then I have failed.  That’s how my mind works. And, I am now an Almost Entirely Failed Spiritual State. 

So, what IS a relationship about to me?  To help me to not spiritually fail, to be able to give and expect nothing and thus to get by virtue only of the other person's capacity for what they can give or not regardless also.  But in that case, it’s a prayer/spell for strength.  And ya know what wanting more strength gets you from God?  A kick in the face, that’s what.  And I’m out of wanting to be Better.  I want the other person to want to be Better.  I want them to WANT that, the work of it.  And I’ll be the challenge now. Stop telling me what you need, what you’ve needed, how you didn’t get it, how I’ve failed.   I got that part.  You, you pick ME up.  Every time you think “Gina could have given me” or “I wanted such-n-such from Gina”, reverse it.  For a while.  For a spell.  I want to be your cross to bear for a change.  We can switch back later, when I’m not mother fucking everything into the ground deep down where my spirit is broken and I can’t pray the pain away any fucking more.  And as is obvious from the Sams Club post alone, I’m not just in pain over Aaron.  There is a mountain of shitty in me I’ve climbed weighted down, by others’ disappointments in me, real and projected and compounded and heavy. As have we all, I know.  But I cannot carry any more or climb any higher without help.  So unless you’re bringing help, you should probably write me off, I’m not salvageable nor can I manage sorry-more.

And while we’re at it, for the record, it pisses me off that I’m pissed off.  A lot.  Because I’m long sick of outrage.  I don’t care if it’s justified or not. And no I don’t understand it better if you scream/beat it into me. (Think: T-bone)  And now I am outraged.  And I hate that in anyone, including me.  Over Fucking Come It, I think.  At myself too.  And I don’t know how.  And you’re probably not going to help me, obviously, the pissed leading the pissed (hurt leading the hurt, whatever, choose your lame-o-phrasing). 

This is more than the loss of a lover, we’ve all had lovers and lost them, Tom says.  Yes.  It’s more than a husband, you’ve lost that before.  Yes.  It’s a friend too, someone who really saw all of you (and rejected it).  Yes.  And you’ve felt that before, too?  Yess. That’s a thing.  Yes.  And family.  Yes.  And on top of all that, a child too, the one thing you could always get solace from, but not this time. Yes.  It’s a complete pain.  Yes.  And you’d never invest this much again.  NO, hell no, it’s this or I’m OUT.  Wow.  Yea.  So what would he have to do?  (Sigh.) Not want us to be happy more than he wants me to be whole again (or himself whole for that matter); I want him to save me, or at least want to, truly, not just as a way to get something out of it but regardless, the way you would have to STOP and pick someone up off the road before you could drive on, no matter what, not because of the consequences or any ulterior extrinsic motivators, but out of some higher more compelling JUST BECAUSE the occasion calls for it; I mean, he has not made me happier than he has cost me effort, all along, and THAT made me Happy because it made me feel Good, “loving even when tried” typa deal, and I was passing the test for once (I thought, anyway, wrongly [she says bitterly]).  And you don’t want to be Good now, you want to be happy, or something?  Kinda, I mean, you made me unhappy this morning, so I bit your head off.  (hahahahahahahaha) Right. Right; and ultimately, I don’t want that, I don’t want to think like that, honestly (I don’t want have the brain I have currently whatsoever!), I don’t need to be happy all the time, I’m not in a relationship to be unhappy but I’m not in it to be happy either, and I am pretty content with difficulty occasioning personal growth and all that fucking shit, buuuut not at the moment (hahahahhahaha/cry).  Right :/ I don’t know what to do with this juncture of my spiritual journey, and if I can’t talk about it that way, I can’t talk about it all, and I can't translate it into another paradigm, either, and in fact I think that I will not.  Right :/

hear fear

VIRGO TODAY: You know what a relationship is about to you. The other person has an entirely different set of reasons for being there. Getting clarity on this will improve your bond.

Nice. Goes well with the Emerson quote. Which are both the opposite of the 'fuck a bunch of this' that I feel.

"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience." Emerson

"I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly. No answers, darling. At all."
   --Anne Sexton, Self-Portrait in Letters

Couldn't have put it better. Which is probably one of the many reasons why I'm not Anne fucking Sexton. But I do know one thing: NO parts of me are functioning (what I would consider) PROPERLY.

Upside to everything, no place to go but up 

This Woman Took A Photo Of Herself Every Day For A Year. I Was In Tears When I Saw The Last One.

This Woman Took A Photo Of Herself Every Day For A Year. I Was In Tears When I Saw The Last One.



I feel the anti-selfie mojo, especially all that include anything in the conceptual neighborhoods of jello-shots or 'look at how well adjusted I am!', but if we could take pics of our insides, it might look like that. It might look like pictures of your abdomen pregnant then not then your spirit bruised. It might be useful to be able to SEE it, whatever it is, if only you could, so you'd be able to. To see.

She didn't tell him she'd known any mud engineers before or about the one she'd heard was killed by a pressurized hose. The hose had shot up into his stomach from underground.

The thought of that death, although she'd only been half acquainted with the man, always put a panicky, dry lump in her throat. It was the hose, she thought, snaking up suddenly from its unseen nest, the idea of that hose striking like a live thing, that was fearful. With one blast it had taken out his insides. And that too made her throat ache, although she'd heard of worse things. It was that moment, the one moment, of realizing you were totally empty. He must have felt that. Sometimes, alone in her room in the dark, she thought she knew what it might be like. -Louise Erdrich, Love Medicine

I keep trying to get it together. To think rightly. But maybe I should empty out. I can't think at all anymore around this thinking I've got going. It's in my way.

"This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time." Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

http://trauma.blog.yorku.ca/2013/12/love-is-war-post-infidelity-stress-disorder-2/

it's 4:30 in the morning (again).  guess I'm at the 'hypervigilant' stage. and I don't see how I'm going to past it according to that treatment criteria, since you'd need to be able to know and discuss the actual simple truths in the first place in order to 'cognitively restructure' them, no? but we don't do that. I hunt what truths down that I can and (painfully) make up the rest, both solitary (lonely) activities essentially

Ah Facebook philosophizing. Words to not possibly live by, all day long, with and without cats and cartoons. Why would this be true? Wouldn't that be the first step towards realizing 'hey you're not just an asshole you're bath-shit crazy TOO!, as if just an asshole weren't bad enough!!'

:/ my mother-in-law is coming back from Mexico today. It's enough to make me want to sell Aaron a car so he can get a head start on her, running for his life. So imagine, I stop in at my lawyer's office, a family friend who knows all about it all, and I'm asking um is there a contract type of car sale for a separated bankrupt spouse to legally bindingly buy a car from his jilted wife? And I'm thinking this is going to sound insane. But he's just, like, 'yea'. 

No matter how bat-shit you go, there's a form of some kind to fill out for it ft. No matter what forms you fill out, there's no preventing the bat-shit you might go. Contracts, such as marriage, attempt to minimize collateral damage humans who "love" each other can do to each other. But they can very barely do that legally, and by definition not spiritually at all. They just give us all mostly false security. Trust me, if your life involves other people, you're not safe from the harm they can inflict on you if they choose to, no matter what. You should probably not even trust your mother (unless she's dead) (maybe). 

. . . a rebel without a cause, an agitator without a slogan, a revolutionary without a program: in other words, his rebelliousness is aimed to achieve goals satisfactory to himself alone; he is incapable of exertions for the sake of others. All his efforts, hidden under no matter what disguise, represent investments designed to satisfy his immediate wishes and desires . . . The psychopath, like the child, cannot delay the pleasures of gratification; and this trait is one of his underlying, universal characteristics. --Robert Lindner
Rebel Without a Cause

One heart is not connected to another through harmony alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through their wounds. Pain linked to pain, fragility to fragility. There is no silence without a cry of grief, no forgiveness without bloodshed, no acceptance without a passage through acute loss. --Haruki Murakami
Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage

Yea. I'd venture that Aaron was raised by a psychopath. But really. I don't even know anymore. Not just what to think, but how. Let alone do. Which isn't up to me, anyway. I'm not much else at this point but altogether tired of having the shit shaken out of me. (Can you get shaken baby syndrome in adulthood? A: yes)

 
 Bonus track

My shrink is a magician. Literally, she also is a witch, a referral from the Witch otherwise I’d not have gotten a slot with her.  Like me, she hides in plain sight, rolling what she is into what she does without any attention to it more than that, booked solid at the poshy mental health suite out by the university.  But man, it is true, a magician can work magic.  I walk in there just so fucked up and pissed off that I’m beyond adjectives, and I walk out sane(r).  

I want Aaron’s mother dead, gone, obliterated.  Which is what she wanted for me, and thus I know just like with anything hate, you become it, and now I am Maureen, which SUCKS.  It’s making me crazy-ass.

Meh, I hate my mother-in-law too.  She doesn’t really matter anymore, he’s an adult.  The sooner you accept that, the sooner it’ll be true, and that will help make it true for him also.  And she clearly hates herself, people who love their own selves and their own lives don’t cripple their kids, so you’re being redundant.  She’s emotionally ill – it helps nothing for you to become as ill and full of hate.  You know that. 

Ok, but HOW do I stop hating her? Cuz I rip her throat open in my head, like, constantly…

I have a mother-in-law and son-in-law who are my “lessons in patience”.  Just set your boundaries and keep to them.  That’s sane.  And when you start stabbing her to death in your head, just remind yourself: “this is a lesson, it is to make me a better person”.  Keep doing that. Forever, it sounds like.  And when you have a really bad day and act out, forgive yourself too, and go back to plan 'sane boundaries', repeat repeat.

Ok but he has internalized her bullshit, and he wouldn’t know a healthy boundary if it bit him in the ass…

Meh, that’s why he needs you.  And as long as that comes out to be that you get things you need too, that you achieve equality in the end and on the whole, you can mother him through that now – what’s so wrong with that?  You’re good at mothering things through things, by all accounts. No?

Ok but he has all this crap hardwired in there, like he’s homophobic at himself and doesn’t even know it, and lets it get under his skin when they insinuate we are an “alternate lifestyle” and a baby on the other hand is some hetero badge of real grown-up manhood whatever…

Meh, first of all, we are all attracted to all kinds of people, and most humans are bisexual and need to get over their weirdness about it, so that’s hardly rare.  Plus, sexuality has nothing to do with monogamy. Monogamy chooses A person, regardless, and character not sexuality determines fidelity.  Plus if it were really a baby he HAD to have, he’d not have chosen you in the first place, he’d have chosen someone younger.  Even if he half believes that heteronormative shit, he must at least half know it’s also bullshit, so why not believe him when he says YOU are what he wants? Working out the heteronormative blackmail of his upbringing is his shit to deal with, not some truth you should deign to fear.

Ok but Aaron can dissociate from his feelings, it’s scary as fuck, it’s good for a critical care nurse maybe, but not in an intimate relationship…

You’re right.  Definitely .  BUT that could be good too, he can use the ability to dissociate from his mother.  And then once he recognizes all the thoughts and self-doubts that aren’t actually his, he can dissociate from them too.  Every weakness is a secret strength, you know that.

Ok but TJ hates Aaron, he just won’t relent at all, and I don’t call him TJ for nothing, he is THE JUDGE…

Meh, we all get we need for our soul on our Journey.  Forgiveness doesn’t come naturally to your son.  So this is what he probably needs in the long run.  It won’t kill him to learn people are fallible, and then later he won’t be so shocked when he is too. Tell him that. 

Ok but Aaron is paranoid, sexually PARANOID, which given circumstances is insane first of all, and it drives me crazy, all he ever asks is if I’m thinking about fucking so-n-so and until now he’s not been able to even believe me and I’m still not sure he is able to trust, plus to be honest it’s BORING.  I mean, I’m trying not to kill that cunt mother of his in my head all day, not thinking about other dick, and if I could think about something more interesting than either of those things, to whom would I tell it? God damn it…

Meh, that’s your fault.  I mean, ok, his paranoia is not good, and he has to get over it, but which again is HIS SHIT to deal with in marriage counseling, that’s on him.  What would you rather talk about, about yourself?

Jesus, fuck, ANYTHING, like seriously any fucking thing that grants that my inner life doesn’t exist just to hide terrible shit from him, God fucking hell so irritating…

Ok then for every time he needs to ask you if you fucked the plumber or whoever, he has to ask you some other question too, about your inner life, one that is more interesting to you.  Again, you never TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT.  How do you get to equality doing that?  You are the teacher of yourself to him.  We all are teachers of ourselves to our partners. He did a terrible thing, but it taught you allllll about him now didn’t it?

True enough, I guess, the fucking hardest way (armscrossy)…

What you both lack in this relationship primarily is parity.  You need to be equals.  You have such strong attraction to one another, you know the Law of that, so you have what the other needs, but you don’t know how to tell him what you need and balance those scales.  That is YOUR SHIT to deal with.

Right.  Right….

If you can do that, and get to the other side of this mess, you’ll be best friends for the rest of your lives. He needed to make all this shit visible so he could get past it, his shit especially (granted), but you have some work to do here too.  That’s all. 

You think?...

Yes, I have a sense that is so. 

(exhaaaaaaaaaaale….)

I still want to see my mother-in-law nailed to a post in the desert

 (but I’m working on it) playlist:

I fucking love this song. Repeat repeat indeed.





And weirdly, I was NOT listening to the Django Unchained soundtrack when I took a shine to these tunes separately. I’m just in that mood, I guess, to scythe a (son of a) bitch’s head off (but I’m working on it). And they're great songs, so there's that.

"I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent."

Between rounds of shrink appointments, we just are.  We float in the hot tub and talk.  He hates therapy like he hated yoga, but just like that is/was supposed to work, as the exertion pain ebbs the benefits flow, and so in successive delays he absorbs them.  He says many times about various things, “I see it now”, and seems to move through epiphanies at a steep rate.  It alarms me and heartens by turns.  I’m not sure.  I want to be building a life but still wonder if I’m just a way through to somewhere else for him, that will not have been me and/but will not be the storyline that I interrupted either.  And he has learned that “mostly” he “doesn’t know”, proven again and again by how much he is now thinking “I didn’t know that about myself a minute ago”. 

My own shrink appointment again looms, and I know she will not be interested in any of that except in so far as it pertains to me.  What am I doing here?  With a man so unsure of himself that he cannot (in good conscience) make commitments, can he?  I can’t answer that question so much as describe it: I’ve never felt so substantively present as I have with him, except for the simple facts of my children, so like that he simply IS and when he is not, it feels like mounting panic and I can’t stand it for forever.  I can stand it for days, I withstood it for 7 weeks, but in the end, I reel him in and put my arms around him and becalm myself.  And I know that is not necessarily a safe place to be.  Aaron dealt me a blow that was the most violent I’ve ever taken and withstood.  It was violent.  It was purposeful, selfish, conscienceless, merciless, calculated and cruel.  It gave him a rush to do it, then sickened him, a sickness he then counteracted with a rationalization that mimicked some higher moral duty to ‘his own family’, which then sickened him again, until no matter how he thought about it and no matter what he did in the day to sustain it, the truth was only sick.  And what I am certain of is that that blow to me was repercussive.  It came through him, and thus hit him first, and he’s been taking and passing on that violence onto his own life always.  From his parents, at everything he was and wanted and loved, exploiting every shred of self-doubt to do it, so that it looked to him like “support” for the self-doubt they’d themselves built to a large enough proportion to do him in (and anything he loved/wanted put asunder) time and again, the violence came.  And when I think about it, I recognize it because it has been so with every other person who has ever loved me also – each that I look on in retrospect had what I had not growing up, i.e. a “good family”, loving parents, a “happy” childhood, that upon closer inspection occasioned by trying to love me and failing, turned out to be a kind of abusive-to-the-self upbringing to some extent.  (What is it in me that drew you, and me to you, I wonder? Karma, says my shrink, which I thought I understood the definition of, but no.) 

Aaron’s family is not merely abusive to some extent, though, it is a systematic violence so large that I had to be punched in the face back from it far enough to even glimpse its proportions.  How he made it this far, I don’t know.  (His brother didn’t.)  And what I’ve inherited from it is the shared experience of it, because he now has given me a kind of love that feels like the safest place to be exactly when it is not that at all.  With love like that, who needs hate?  It feels almost not survivable except by a counter measure of equal heartlessness, a kind of going dead.  

So, I understand indeed. But I'm far from gone-dead. 

Justice ft & Problem - On Mamas