the ugly truth

i spend a lot of time talking about my imaginary light switch.  you know, that emotional cutoff that i supposedly use to reel myself back in when things get too intense.  as you may have guessed, i’m a bit of a control freak in that way.
as it turns out, that silly little switch seems to have had consequences.  all of those times that i thought i was dispelling my response to some toxic situation, i was really cramming my feelings into a corner and just not dealing with them.  they were never actually gone.  i was simply ignoring them.
unwisely, it seems.
so, nearly a year ago, when i claimed to have been totally ok 20 minutes after being dumped on christmas morning, that was probably less than truthful.  on new years eve, when i joyously exclaimed that i could drink myself to oblivion because i no longer had an alcoholic boyfriend, i may have been exaggerating a bit on how happy i actually felt about it.
every beer i’ve drunk, every beverage i’ve watched friends consume, every single social occasion at which alcohol was present, i was silently assessing the likelihood that someone, especially me, was going to lose control, and when and if they did, how i could best respond.
i can’t adequately define why i feel as shitty as i feel about my exboyfriend’s current circumstances.  i guess the best explanation is that alcohol abuse *actually* does affect more than just the abuser.  i should have realized that a year ago when this whole debacle began, when he tried to warn me and advised me to seek counseling.
but i had my trusty light switch. i was invincible.
and now i am a tangled mess of emotion.  i feel guilty for never having noticed that he needed help in the beginning, but indignant because he never told me so. i feel guilty for never having called the police every time he drunk dialed me on his drive home from the bar, and i’ll always feel guilty for thinking i should turn him in.
i’ve never said i didn’t care about him. in fact, that may be the only constant emotion i’ve had about him in the past year.
although that won’t change, i now realize that being there is just too hard. knowing that he is struggling and having no means to help or even really support him goes against my most fundamental personality traits.  i need to fix him, and i can’t. it’s not my right, responsibility, or burden.
so i’m walking away.  i think it’s the only way to preserve what’s left of my precarious emotional well-being.  it won’t make me feel any better, but i hope that it will stop making me feel worse.

 

dear sir:

perhaps you remember me from such episodes of your life as “discussion of intense things several hours after the party ended and everyone else went to bed”, “why we love the classic books we love and the authors who wrote them”,  “being chastised by art museum guards on a power trip”, and my personal favorite, “how to translate the names of breakfast foods into french when you are totally hungover.”

i have been surreptitiously watching for your gaze to follow me. i do my hair and make up in ways that i hope will gain your attention and i casually store away potential conversation starters for your benefit.  all for about 5 years, and to no avail.  it has taken that long for us to finally be on hugging terms. i had hoped to be well past that stage by now.
i fall in lust every 8 minutes or so, which is to say, almost constantly. my vivid imagination sometimes takes over when i see a hot guy stuck in traffic in the car next to mine, but he is generally forgotten by the time i’m in line at the market behind some new stud.
but you sir, are memorable.  i like you for your analytical brain and silly sense of humor. also, your cheekbones, jawline, unflagging eye contact, and the parts of you that i’ve never seen, but desperately want to.
i love, but am continuously frustrated with your potential flirtation.  decoding possible meanings and intentions behind our conversations has become a full-time obsession, even years after these interactions take place. i am still haunted by the words “exceptionally beautiful,” because i can’t fathom the notion that they were used to describe me, least of all by you.
you, sir, are a conundrum.

i think you’re lovely, and if i had any guts at all, i’d tell you so.

but i don’t, so this will have to do.

 

what do i have to lose now?

a couple years ago, someone whose friendship i valued convinced me to censor myself and my blog for the sake of her modesty.  her anger at the expression of my own opinions on *my own life*, as i was reminded of it by her circumstances, caused me to change how i express myself.  supposedly, she and her group of friends sat around a table and discussed how insulting i was.
for letting her stories remind me of my own memories.
there is nothing that i hate more than being discussed without the opportunity to defend myself.  i don’t generally care about what people know or say about me, but *i* want to be the gatekeeper of my own information.  i want to have the right to give details or keep secrets, as i see fit.
the incident may have been the downfall of our friendship. things were certainly never the same with her friends.  i got even more bitter when she told me that it was an accepted fact that i am stubborn and pigheaded, and asked me not to tell her friend that i preferred my car to hers.
i was totally insulted.  i consider a difference of opinions to be cause for healthy debate, not a reason to look down on someone.  i also thought that she would know me better than to think i would either consciously insult her friend with my judgment of her car, or even expect *anyone* to prefer my possessions to their own.
believe it or not, i’ve reined my opinions in quite a bit. i deleted my the offensive blogpost. i publicly apologized to her friends.  when she exclaimed that she found a field full of yaks in the middle of connecticut, i didn’t bother to let her know that they were actually just scottish highland cattle. it would certainly have resulted in rolled eyes, probably an argument and my friend telling me i don’t know everything.
i have tried to let sleeping dogs lie, in an attempt to at least appear more moderate in my views, and for the sake of avoiding offense.
but god, it’s dull.
i have opinions on everything. EVERYTHING.  i don’t think that’s a bad thing, and i don’t mind a little debate.  i don’t judge people for their views (with the possible exception of the topic of same sex marriage. i go off the deep end on that one a little…).  if i am given enough convincing evidence, i am willing to adapt to a more reasonable take on the subject. but for christsake, challenge me!
don’t be offended when if i never come around to your way of thinking. just give me a better debate, and maybe i will.