I told Argo that she broke me open to let all the light rush in with “why do you think it is everyone else’s job to fix you?” It did not occur to me that I could “man up” and get someone to drive me to the hospital and admit myself. I mean, why would it? I have no self-preservation. I am content to help you until I die. And by that, I do not mean Argo. I mean “you plural.” It doesn’t matter who she (most likely) is. It might even be a man. It’s not about attraction. It’s about seeing need and wanting to respond to it. Thursday was when I got my first taste of self-preservation, because even though it broke me open to let light in, it also just plain broke me. I went to her for help, and for whatever reason, it was not given. It was a swift kick in the ass that I’m not sure I didn’t need. I mean, her advice was really fucking sound. Her delivery is as awful as mine. We have done a fucking number on each other because I am who I am and she is who she is and instead of trying to be enormous together, we have gutter-sniped each other into the ground. Not because either of us really wanted to. We just hurt each other so bad that both of our walls went up. It happens. Whether they come down or not will not be decided for weeks, months, years. But I can’t worry about her right now. I can worry about her later, but only if she wants me to. I think it depends on how she sees me. I have not been kind to her, and I want to make amends by truly working on myself until we can interact safely and with much kindness, instead of the constant barrage of “fuck off and die.”

That is because neither one of us can handle emotional intimacy. Argo’s is not my story to tell, but I will say one thing. We cannot let each other in because our pattern is to get close, not be able to handle it, and then get in a fight that forces both of us to retreat. It has happened too many times for either one of us to believe that the other one really wants to change. I hope that I proved to her that I do love her and want her in my life because I am willing to lay my life on the line and say “it’s me. I know it’s me. If nothing else, I need her to realize that I am not doing this for her. I am doing this because I want to know what’s wrong with me, and how to turn off my defenses when they get so thick that no one can help me because I won’t let them. I have gotten really into the psycho/bio connection, which is good to study if I want to be a minister one day (my parishioners will never know how much I am doing to protect the future them. I have to have clinical separation or I will get into this position again because I will carry their problems like I carry my own.
I have five minutes of work time left, and I am so glad that they recognize I’m a writer and that I will heal more by continuing it than doing anything else. They don’t mind if I write about them. They think they’re famous. Shhhhhhhhh……. 😉


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