I take too much joy from my imagination, and not enough from reality.
That is all.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Another new post already?
I think this must be a record. It's nothing polished or special, just cut-and-paste from a chat with Liv. (Screen names have been removed to prevent spam and such)
2:19 PM
me: Hey, speaking of mommy and daddy issues, I had a really interesting, kinda disturbing insight the other day.
livvy: ooh, yay insight
running down the hall but keep typin'!
me: I was spending some time thinking about John and how weird all of that was, feeling totally safe and at ease with him, until that one little tipping point where it became full-blown panic and hard, hard anxiety, and trying to pinpoint the change so I can understand it, because I'm pretty sure the word "trigger" applies.
And I kept coming back to the same, distressing conclusion: I'm really shallow. It's the shape of him, his weight, or more specifically, feeling smothered by being close to someone that shape. I weighed it against the men who make me feel comfortable in their arms, even when I should probably be a little afraid of them coughRyancough, and how I've always loved that fragile, bony, not-quite-there weight of long, thin arms...
It's my mom and my dad. It's completely and totally my mommy issues vs. my daddy issues.
He was so skinny, and she was so heavy, and it's ingrained in me now: fat people will love you just enough to hurt you. Skinny people are good and gentle, but will leave.
livvy: ooooooohhhh wow
me: nods I know, right?
livvy: it's AMAZING how programmed that is, isn't it?
like, rachael's still the ONLY limerent object i've ever had that had blue eyes
b/c blueeyed people WANT TO GET YOU.
me: laugh Yeah, exactly.
Ben's the only blond I've ever spent any time considering. There's no way it's a coincidence that that's what I chose for myself when I finally decided to leave Ryan in the past.
The tall, skinny, dark-haired never there for the soft, round, blond who will hurt me in all the familiar ways.
kicks unconscious
livvy: why does terror/trauma turn into attraction?
...And neither of us had a good answer.
2:19 PM
me: Hey, speaking of mommy and daddy issues, I had a really interesting, kinda disturbing insight the other day.
livvy: ooh, yay insight
running down the hall but keep typin'!
me: I was spending some time thinking about John and how weird all of that was, feeling totally safe and at ease with him, until that one little tipping point where it became full-blown panic and hard, hard anxiety, and trying to pinpoint the change so I can understand it, because I'm pretty sure the word "trigger" applies.
And I kept coming back to the same, distressing conclusion: I'm really shallow. It's the shape of him, his weight, or more specifically, feeling smothered by being close to someone that shape. I weighed it against the men who make me feel comfortable in their arms, even when I should probably be a little afraid of them coughRyancough, and how I've always loved that fragile, bony, not-quite-there weight of long, thin arms...
It's my mom and my dad. It's completely and totally my mommy issues vs. my daddy issues.
He was so skinny, and she was so heavy, and it's ingrained in me now: fat people will love you just enough to hurt you. Skinny people are good and gentle, but will leave.
livvy: ooooooohhhh wow
me: nods I know, right?
livvy: it's AMAZING how programmed that is, isn't it?
like, rachael's still the ONLY limerent object i've ever had that had blue eyes
b/c blueeyed people WANT TO GET YOU.
me: laugh Yeah, exactly.
Ben's the only blond I've ever spent any time considering. There's no way it's a coincidence that that's what I chose for myself when I finally decided to leave Ryan in the past.
The tall, skinny, dark-haired never there for the soft, round, blond who will hurt me in all the familiar ways.
kicks unconscious
livvy: why does terror/trauma turn into attraction?
...And neither of us had a good answer.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
"When love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you, yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you, believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses you tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
"Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you from your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; and then he assigns you to his sacred fire that you may become sacred bread for the sacred feast.
"All these things love shall do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of life's heart.
"But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you will laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
"Love gives naught but itself and takes not but from itself. Love possesses not, nor would it be possessed; for love is sufficient unto love.
"And think not to direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
"Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if in your love you must have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at noon and meditate on love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise on your lips."
-Kahlil Gibran, "On Love"
When I first found this, more than ten years ago, I spent months reading it constantly, compulsively, and I couldn't tell whether it was shaping my thoughts or articulating things I had been thinking all along. I realized tonight that I couldn't remember any more how it went, and pulled it off the shelf for the first time in at least four years. It's not as poetic as I remember, but every bit as powerful. I am convicted and humbled and encouraged. I still don't love like I want to, and I probably never will, and I love so much better now than ten years ago.
I had forgotten that this pain, right now, is nothing to fear or to be ashamed of. This is the pain of knowing my own heart, of too much tenderness, of loving as best I can. There's no reason to keep wishing it away.
"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses you tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
"Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you from your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; and then he assigns you to his sacred fire that you may become sacred bread for the sacred feast.
"All these things love shall do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of life's heart.
"But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you will laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
"Love gives naught but itself and takes not but from itself. Love possesses not, nor would it be possessed; for love is sufficient unto love.
"And think not to direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
"Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if in your love you must have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at noon and meditate on love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise on your lips."
-Kahlil Gibran, "On Love"
When I first found this, more than ten years ago, I spent months reading it constantly, compulsively, and I couldn't tell whether it was shaping my thoughts or articulating things I had been thinking all along. I realized tonight that I couldn't remember any more how it went, and pulled it off the shelf for the first time in at least four years. It's not as poetic as I remember, but every bit as powerful. I am convicted and humbled and encouraged. I still don't love like I want to, and I probably never will, and I love so much better now than ten years ago.
I had forgotten that this pain, right now, is nothing to fear or to be ashamed of. This is the pain of knowing my own heart, of too much tenderness, of loving as best I can. There's no reason to keep wishing it away.
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