and words about words, too

A moment ago Pandora played a song that caught my ear, and I went to check out the lyrics. I liked them so much I almost posted them here, in the spirit of sharing the poetry that touches me (and, yes, song lyrics absolutely do count as poetry, because if they don't then poetry just doesn't have enough of a role in the modern world). You're not reading them now because I decided that it's more important for me to share my own words, but if you're deeply curious it's Secret Heart by Feist.

I realized recently that, not only do I have an almost obsessive love of words, I trust words more than actions. This is utter foolishness according to conventional wisdom, and I think I'm just now figuring it out because even I think it's just a bit preposterous. People can say anything, it's so very easy to lie, and actions always come with consequences of one kind or another. But the thing about actions is that they can be explained away with a few skillful words. I didn't mean to hurt you, it was an accident, I had my reasons, you're totally misreading me, I was drunk, you just didn't understand, you thought that meant something? Yeah, it's pretty obvious what kind of actions I'm thinking of. The things with words is they pin things down, or at least try to, so that these shiny, slippery little butterflies of meaning and intent can be neatly lined up and categorized, organized, understood. When someone says "I want to make your life better," that's a very clear and direct thing, and even if they don't totally succeed I find it comforts me to revisit the memory of being told kind things, makes it easier to patient and compassionate.

Being told I'm loved always, always, always makes my day, and there's little I enjoy more than trusting someone enough to feel secure and assured in saying it myself. Sadly, neither happens half as often as I'd like.

I'm wondering what this means for my romantic interests, past and future. It's time for me to put some serious thought into this topic. It's been six months, and he's not coming back this time. I'm not quite ready for someone new, but that makes it all the more important for me to really consider what I want, what I need, what I'm willing to sacrifice and what I'm not. I'm not entirely sure if I would do better with someone who matches me on valuing words so highly or someone who challenges me to think outside my natural, subconscious assumptions about words and actions and intent. So, let's compare: Ryan, Jacob, Ben, David, I hope you're not too tired of being made examples of. If you are, and you've found your way here, skip the rest of this post.

Ryan had quite a way with words when we were younger, though it seems to have declined in the last few years. He's still quite charming, but he mumbles a lot now, doesn't seem to try so hard to say the right thing. He's gotten better at listening, too. He's always been good at telling me the things I desperately need to hear: I'm good and compassionate, undervalued by my family, virtuous and bound for good things. And that he loved me. He said it again and again, and though his actions never really lived up to it, I always chose to believe him. And, really, who's to say which was right? He believed he loved me, and we both learned to define love as the way we treated each other. Which was, of course, quite damaging for me in the long run. Though I'm pretty sure he was what I needed at the time, he was never very good to me.

Jacob is so very uncomfortable with words that there is no way to say it that falls anywhere between understatement and hyperbole. He's sharp and adaptable and always tries to be a good communicator, so I don't think it's a serious problem for him or the people in his life. But, looking back, I wonder how I would have felt with him if he had given me fewer gifts and said he cared for me more often. Strange to want someone to be less good to me. Maybe this is a problem. Undeniably, he was always good to me and helped me through one of the scarier times in my life, but I could never quite believe, on an emotional level, that he truly wanted me. My histrionics on the subject caused us no small amount of strife. If I could find something like that again, someone who did all the right things but wasn't very good at saying them, could I appreciate it better now? Hm. We'll revisit this with David.

Ben wasn't particularly good with his words or actions. Better with words, I suppose, at least at first, and he managed to talk his way out of consequences with frightening regularity. He was very, very good at making me question my actions and bottle up my words, and I'm still not totally sure how he did it. He hurt me so much. Three years and I'm still dealing with the fallout of the things I let him put me through. Do I really need to keep talking about this, keep dragging all this ugliness out into the light? I'm still so ashamed of myself. Disgusted with us both. How did I ever call that love? He made me bleed for god's sake, several times a week there in the middle of things, and I always thought it was something wrong with me. He told me it was something wrong with me, and as always, I chose to take him at his word instead of considering the impact of his actions. Bad choice.

David is uncomfortable saying things directly and often very slow to act, but that usually means he's deliberate with both words and actions. Good trait, and one I'm very attracted to, but it left me constantly unsure of him and his intentions. I was so afraid to tell him I loved him, though I was certain I did, because I doubted he would ever say it himself. It took me the better part of a year to believe that I could trust him not to hurt me physically (thank you Ben for that little parting gift), but I never did learn to trust him with my heart. Would things have turned out differently if I had? Looking back, I pushed him away just as often and effectively as he did me. The big difference is that instead of shutting down and pulling back like him, I piled on contradictory actions and words, the way Ben and Ryan taught me to. Snapped and grumbled and scowled, but then insisted that I loved him and didn't understand why he thought things weren't working. I wish I had been better to him, more consistent. I wish I had been brave enough to match actions to words. I wish he had been brave enough to say he loved me when I needed to hear it.

What do I need? It's obvious to me that what I want is someone who's going to hurt me and tell me they love me, but I think it's time to stop tilting at that particular windmill. I will get past it. I will. I suppose the obvious ideal would be someone who's good and loving with words and actions, who treats me with kindness and respect even as he tells me I'm good and beautiful and loved. But I suspect that I will feel smothered by that, or at least overwhelmed and intensely distrustful. That's how it started with Ben. Maybe someone who's slow and deliberate, but eventually builds up to saying and doing the right things, giving me time to be ready for it. How will I know that's coming, how do I hold on to my patience when I find someone I want that from? I suppose I just keep investing in the people who are being good to me now, and keep an open mind about the ones I'm attracted to.

I don't have much of a track record with that kind of patience and openness. I'm much more likely to force things to a premature confrontation. So that's something to work on, I suppose.

My brain hurts. Enough words for now.