Grumble

I hate it when I realize that my browser updated and reset things like "don't track my own pageviews."

I so don't need to see how many times I look at my blog.  That's just silly.  And, a bit embarrassing.

So this will be extra long

Part 1: Do-Over

I don't feel stressed.  By that I mean, I am not worried about anything in particular, I am not frazzled, I do not feel as if I have too many things to do, or difficult things to do or anything like that. I do not think, how am I going to get through the day?

On the other hand, my back hasn't relaxed in days.  Maybe a week.  I mean, I take a hot bath nearly every day, and even after a long hot bath listening to old favorite going-to-sleep soundtracks, my back only manages to achieve "somewhat better" status.  And I am in deep Dealing With Things mode, which means spending as much time as possible on the couch wearing flannel pj's, eating large amounts of food, and generally making a lot of "but I wanna" decisions.

And to go with the Dealing With Things mode, I find myself getting hit with things that shouldn't be problems.  I was in full anxiety yesterday, because I sent a message on Facebook that might have been perceived in some indefinably negative way by the recipient.  And before that, I wallowed for nearly half a day because of someone who was mean to me fifteen years ago.  It's not that these things don't ever bother me, but they usually aren't so crippling.  Now, they are taking over my entire day.

I look at all of this and think, well, it's obvious that I am stressed.  These are all symptoms of stress. 

And I look back at the last six months and think, I broke up with someone who has long been a good friend, my grandmother died, my brother jumped off a bridge and my friend was killed.  In six months.  I introduced myself to a guy while I was home for my grandmother's memorial and now he's a potential stalker.

Fuck.

I could really use a break.  Or a do-over.


Part 2: Love, again.

We know the word we can't say.  He said that he might stop trying to not say it.  (Talk about compound negatives!)

And I'm not ready to say it, not yet.  But I am ready to acknowledge that this is real, and this isn't going to just go away.  This is the thing I've been running from, dreaming about, methodically hunting down, afraid of, envious of, aching for and hoping for, for so long.  It's been four years.  I could have gotten a bachelors' degree in being single.  And after so much time it seems very strange and kind of anticlimactic to actually have a boyfriend.  One that I'd like to keep.

And he's not who I was looking for and it's not convenient and yet.

I want this one.

And that feels like more than love.  It feels bigger and scarier, because I love a lot of things, and I love a lot of people.  I've had a lot of love in my life, but I've never had a functional romantic partnership.  I think we could do that.


Part 3: Google

I googled my mother today.  It's not hard, not when her business is Her Full Name, CPA.  It's the first time I've seen her face in four years.  I'd almost forgotten what it looked like.  It looks very vulnerable, although I'm probably just projecting my own memories and cultural stereotypes.  But, still, I find myself marveling at this face on the internet, thinking this is my mother.

Shortly after their last fight, my uncle Louie* and my mother mended their relationship.  He says that he refused to acknowledge that she'd broken it.  And I think, maybe I just didn't try hard enough.  If he can do it, through perseverance, am I just too stubborn? 

Because, god knows I'm stubborn.  I can hold a grudge.  I build polished wood floors over the memory of my enemies so that I and my righteousness can waltz over them.  I know this about myself.  I get it from my mother.

But I also know that Uncle Louie succeeds because she lets him.  I know that she will never let me succeed, not for long.  She is the glass mountain, and I live in Iowa now.  Our hills are grassy and low.


*Not his real name, but the pseudonym fits.  I may go through and make a pseudononymous family tree because "my mother told her brother who told their sister who told my aunt" is not very helpful for actually understanding events.

Nevermind

There was a list.  First there was an essay, then there was a list.  And they were all deleted because I am embarrassed to exist in the world today, much less say or do anything to call attention to it.

I feel so fragile these days.  Like all my issues are coming home to roost and I don't have the strength shoo them away.  I just cower, and cry.

Still maudlin.

It was long ago and far away.  And yet, it seems as if it keeps coming up, lately. 

And I was trying to figure out why that is.  If it was so long ago and far away why would I be thinking about it now?  When I am so much better?  But I think that maybe it was always coming up and I just didn't know it.  I was reacting to things without knowing the reason why.  It's only lately that I had a moment of recognition: this bad feeling is like that bad feeling, and that's why I suddenly want to curl up and protect myself!

Only, with the awareness comes the price of remembering. 

Sometimes it's hard to pull myself out. Sometimes it's as if I'd rather wallow.

We discussed & negotiated a few sex-things.  Which involved me identifying personal boundaries.  Which involved me thinking about a possible thing, examining my feelings towards this possible thing, deciding what those feelings were, and then moving on to another possible thing.  I find my borders by reaching them.  Which means that I've spent some time this morning on the other side of okay, identifying potential problems, and the associated memories.

I could use a hug.

I am starting to think that this is what I've been looking for.

When I told BadEx that I did not love him, that being with him made me unhappy, and that staying with him meant sacrificing my own happiness, he said, "I love you.  Don't leave me."

When I needed some time alone to process Red Flag's warnings, he said, "Do what you need to do to be happy."

It's all the difference in the world.

I am taking this seriously.

When I said, "I am unwilling to have any contact with you ever again,"  I didn't mean, "Wait three weeks and then try again."

Perhaps the words, "harassment," "legal," and "action," will be harder to misunderstand.  I really hope so, but given his talent at reading what I say and interpreting it to mean whatever suits him, I am not optimistic. 

And if not, his behavior falls under the state definition of harassment.  As a university employee, his behavior also violates university policy. And I talked to people who know people, and they say The University takes this very seriously.  It feels good to know that, not only do I have a social Team Me, but if I need to, I think I have an official Team Me.  The kind with big, University, guns.

So I wrote down the timeline so far, and emailed it to myself.  I am saving his email and my response.