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.