Blah!

I am looking at my last post, and it is too doom and gloom. I want to undue it's darkness somehow. I don't know how. I need to work on my goddamn careplan.

Ridiculous

I can't believe that the last time I wrote on here it was February.

Life has been such a crazy rollercoaster, I guess I have been afraid to write. Loving Alex has changed everything internally. I have viewed him with so much fear, so much distrust. He tells me it is I who is not trusting, I, who is afraid. I hope he is right. I hope it is not my gut instinct that is right, telling me to be afraid, telling me not to trust him, telling me I am fucked, utterly, and hopelessly powerless against the huge bombastic power imbalance between us. I confuse my "gut instinct" with a small, very powerful, negative voice, that tells me I am nothing, I have no power, and that ultimately, I can only trust someone who is obvious, someone who is exactly like me, someone "innocent," someone unthreatening, someone like my ex-boyfriend before Diabetes. But it is not true. I have some serious false memories when it comes to my ex. I remember him as both an angel and satan. I remember him as being super kind, super patient, super loving, super patient. And then I remember the bad stuff. The one-sided fights (all me arguing, him being all "nice" and not even engaging me), the weird mild racism and ignorance. The way he patronized me/was "kind" to me with little white lies to protect me, believing I couldn't handle certain things cuz I was female. He thought he was being a gentleman. I did too. I always believe I am too weak for the truth.

Now I am dating a man who, regardless of everything, will not lie to me. He is honest, to the point that I cannot stop a single tear the moment he starts with, "I'm gonna be honest with you." He promises no ideals. He says he will do his best. He says he loves me more than anything. He says he will (if we have any) love our baby in a different way than me. He makes no promises to adjust to my need for constant assurance about anything. He wants me to be strong and secure. He wants me to feel strong without him, to be independent. I think, intellectually, what he wants from me, is to be happy regardless of him. I think what he is asking of me is the hardest, most painful thing I can even imagine.

I do not know if I am just being a weak woman, but I am telling myself, maybe....just maybe it means he wants what is best for me.

What he asks of me, is to be powerful. To have no fear. To have faith in myself regardless of all.

I hope so. I do not want to be a fool. I am so afraid, he says. He is so right! I am so afraid! So afraid of being a fool, of making mistakes, of being in love and being a laughingstock.

The Buddhist way would be to accept that I will and am making mistakes. That it is okay.

I am so afraid to love him because it is all consuming and violent. Yet I do, with a madness that is based on my own self-hatred.

I do not love him without hating myself. That is the truth. I look at his flaws and hold it tightly to make myself feel superior and less inferior. But the truth is, I compare myself to him constantly.

He gives me everything he can to show me he loves me. I think I believe him when he says that. He shows it without being showy.

I plague myself with guilt and self-hatred.

I was gonna die with exhaustion this evening, and he too. He just came back from work, and was so tired. Yet he entertained my family and friends with a patience and a smile. And laughed at all the jokes from me and Michelle, listening to all out stories about Lolo and Lola. He forgave me for the double-standard I have about our family stuff. I asked for forgiveness, and he just understood, waving away my self-attack/apology. Then he insisted I stay at home and sleep while he drove Michelle home. If that isn't love, I am being unfair.

He says I am fragile, and needing protection. And he provides it in the way he can. Not in an emotional way because that is not his strong suit. He never had that. He provides it in other ways. Everyone I talk to says that 1. it is obvious he loves me, 2. he does it in the way he seems be protective and attentive to me. I think about it now and want to cry. It is true. I don't let myself notice it because I am too focused on my own actions towards him, trying to keep him in love with me, afraid he will change his mind, afraid, afraid. I cannot believe it. I cannot believe such a man loves me. I idealize him, I love him so. I hate myself for loving again. I hate myself for loving such a dangerous, powerful, magical, man. I hate myself for being so swept off my feet, for kissing the air he breathes, for being 15 around him. I resent that he is not like me in the way I love. But he loves me like a 44 year-old who has been divorced, and is afraid of being betrayed. He loves me like a man who has experienced many things. He tells me his life is better with me in it. He loves sharing his life with me. He said these things after staying with me as I cried the entire day, and as he said them, I thought, "Liar! How could you? I am so horrible!" It is amazing.

I refuse to accept his love, because I do not want to get used to it, and then have it taken away.

What has that strategy done for me? Nothing. What is the point of love if I am half-way enjoying it?

Happiness Exercise:

1. Spending time with Caroline and Michelle gave me absurd amounts of joy. Their presence is instant peace and happiness.
2. Cooking and feeding Caroline and Michelle gives me a peace and comfort.
3. I think Joanna and Maki maybe liked me. I cannot read Joanna all that well, but Maki seemed to approve of me. CJ grew comfortable with me anyway. I do adore him.
4. Seeing Karla again was happiness. Spending Thanksgiving with her was the best. Doing "Everybody Dance" with her and Alex and Maki... so awesome.
5. I have a man who loves me very much! Very much.
6. I have a family that loves me very much too!
7. Jonathan and Leo are my friends! They are the most wonderful friends! I love them so much. I cherish them.
8. The love from Yanira and Wivine mean a lot to me.
9. Cheryl's happiness is such peace. I feel like my fragile, broken friend has been given a second chance in life after so many years of sadness. I feel like there is justice in the world that Cheryl is finally given this chance. She deserves joy beyond her wildest dreams. She deserves this love

Overcoming Negative Self-Fulfilling Prophecies

1. Identify a communication problem that happens repeatedly in your life

2. Describe a recent situation when this occurred, including what you thought, said, and did and the results.

3. Critically self-reflect on the situation, identifying links between your thoughts and feelings and your behavior.

4. Prevent the prophecy from recurring by blocking any negative links between your thoughts and feelings and your behavior.

Critical Self-Reflection

...from my awesome Interpersonal Communications book, Reflect and Relate...

To engage in critical self-reflection, ask yourself the following questions:

• What am I thinking and feeling?
• Why am I thinking and feeling the way I am?
• How am I communicating?
• How are my inner thoughts and feelings affecting my communication behavior?
• How can I improve my thoughts, feelings, and communication behavior?

Happiness Exercise Number 13

1. It is so great to be back home, and to spend some time with my sister. Watching Caroline hack her lung while still making beautiful art blows me away. How did I get such a jewel of a sister? Such a beauty, such a fighter? How is it that we are the same--that she is my twin, that I allegedly look like her? She is my ally, my best friend.

2. I am below 150. I am grateful for that.

3. I managed to get through Chapter 2 of that College Essay book. *phew*

4. I am going to be 29 this year. I don't have cancer or am obese, or an eating disorder. I am healthy.

5. Jonathan and Leo. Vanessa. Wivine. Yanira. Didi. Karla. Cheryl. Daniella. Michie. Mira. Naosha. Michelle. Lolo. Manang Fe. Mrs. Delgado. Tita Tess. J.P. Colin. Brian. Chin Shan Sze. TJ. Janny. Queenie. K.C. Sheryl. Nancy. Gita.

6. Charlotte. Carmen. Lola Puring. Tia.

7. I have a cozy apartment that shields me from rain and cold and scary people.

8. I have a Masters degree.

9. All A's in Anatomy, Physiology, and Microbiology.

10. I am a good friend, I have a kind heart, and I am generous.

11. I am doing the best I can.

Don't

I awoke in horror at the thought of Soy contacting me, and this idea that she was doing so because she had been with Alex when Mojo died, and they ended up having grief sex. Her contacting me and adding me on FB...it tells me I am on her mind a bit. Her wanting to meet me. Her need to tell me not to worry. That these two act as if their continued connection should not make their significant others uncomfortable and threatened boggles the mind.

I looked at her profile and read her status again, and feel instantly sick. She has his habits. Granola making. Artistic and magical. I am very humble, low profile, and quiet next to her. I am glad I am going to therapy today, because all I want to do is puke for days.

I knew that Mojo's death would be a test on our relationship. He is now going into grief stage, and I know by now the arbitrary and terrifying nature of men when they go into grief and loss. I was not any good when I encountered this grief in my ex, nor other male friends. You are expected to be strong and silent, to weather their inaccessibility quietly, to love them despite all, to be a saint. I did my best for my ex, for those male friends, but I can't shake the belief that I failed because I lost them all. I must look for evidence of the contrary because it is too horrible. I must remember that "Don't take anything personal" message from the Four Agreements. It will be the most important thing, the most powerful tool I will have against the coming battle. I expect Alex to be inconsolable, a nightmare to be around. I expect to hear nothing, to do nothing, except experience his odd male acting-out of grief.

I wish I had the tools to bear the assault of icy isolation that is the male mystery of masculine unhappiness. I wish I could do for him what he could not for me. It is only fair this way--I realize. Men--well, all but Jonathan and Leo-- have been socialized to react to things in a very protective, tightly wound, and limited manner. And as such it is very hard to understand for me. And women are socialized into the opposite--although still a limited manner, I have to admit. There is that painful, excruciating divide that remains.

I don't know if I have the strength to date A. I don't know if I can do this.

The Origin of Love

I found an interesting article on http://www.synoptique.ca/core/articles/koutras_dino_shortbus/, analyzing Penetration in the film "Shortbus:"

"In reference to the adoration showered on him by his partner, James says: “It stops at my skin. I can’t let it inside me.”

This quote didn't hit me the first time, but it definitely did last Valentine's Day when I got to see John Cameron Mitchell sing some songs from Hedwig before we saw a screening of "Shortbus."

That quote is exactly what depression is about. It is exactly how it feels. I know that Caroline loves me. I know that Jonathan and Leo love me. I know I have mom and dad. I know I have friends who love me. This is all intellectual. This is not an emotional knowledge. It stops at my skin, it doesn't come in. My hunger, my need to be loved is intense. Especially with the intense self-loathing I have intensely fine-tuned over the years. It hasn't hurt as much as it has with Alex. I cannot, for the life of me, accept his words of love. He has tried again and again, and we had our first fight over it. That fight has taught me to keep my mouth shut. I must find a way to seal my traitorous lips closed because there is no evidence that what I say is true. There is enough he has given me, enough my friends have said, enough.....to say that he loves me. And yet I am encased in a tomb of doubt and agonizing insecurity. I think, "He is so wonderful. He is obscenely amazing. How can he love me?" I need to learn to find ways to love myself. It is very hard. I need to be my own friend, my own champion. I need to accept my flaws and rejoice in my abilities. I need to transform and grow and love.

He told me he could tell (the lunch the day after the fight) that I was still freaked out about what happened. He told me he loved me very, very much. He told me he wanted me never to doubt that. He told me he wants me to always be with him, spend every minute with him, he wants me to move in with him. He wants me to keep house for him, cook for him, make his place smell nice. He wants me to bear his baby. He said all of this slowly, surely, and looking me in the eye. And ended it with, "Okay?" And all I could do was nod, and chew my finger. He then asked me if what he said about wanting me to bear his baby freaked me out. It totally did, but I said it didn't. We've been fantasizing about it since our third date. And as he was saying this long speech I was thinking to myself, "He is trying to fix this. To undue the horrific doubts and insecurities from last night. This is that "man thing" men do. He viewed the things I said as a problem, and he is giving a solution....." But I was moved anyway. They are crazy things for a man to say.

Anyway. Caroline set me straight. I got back on Zoloft today. I need to. This madness has gone on long enough.