None, I Just Live Here

What fears have you overcome and how?

I am not sure there is a thing as overcoming a fear. It doesn’t get better, you just learn. For instance, asking someone out feels like having your guts rearranged, but if you’re lucky, you’ll be laughing and smiling a minute later. If not, oh well. In the past, I would have taken that rejection and sat on it forever. Now, I don’t care if people like me or not, so it doesn’t wig me out to say to someone that I’m interested. If they’re not, I’m strong enough to handle rejection. I have been alive long enough to know that not everyone vibes with me….. although people seem to be drawn to me initially. They don’t find out what a train wreck I can be until later. It’s all good, because I won’t find out they’re a train wreck immediately, either.

We all have too much fear of rejection most of the time, because what goes on in our heads is much worse than what happens in the real world…. with one exception, the only thing that scares me.

I need my e-mail and documents to be secure, because ideas are my currency. That means one of the reasons I don’t date much is that partners like going through your phone, as if it’s some medal to be earned. Slow it down, Buster Brown.

The thing around privacy is mystifying. When you are a couple, are you supposed to let people think that you’re talking to both of us all the time? That nothing you say to me stays with me? What if my friends stop confiding in me because they don’t like you? They don’t have to. I have to like you.

I also don’t want you to read anything they asked me to keep tight and you thought it was your right to snoop. I promise you that if I’m attracted to someone, you’ll know it. Probably because I’ll tell you that so you won’t miss who I’m seeing. Jealousy is not my bag, and pushes me away faster than anything else. I’m not going to bat an eye if you see heaven on earth, either.

I have a fear of dating anyone jealous, because that’s the shortest path to getting my phone held up in front of my face while I’m asleep. I should wipe it, but it’s so much hassle. That being said, only my iPad, iPhone, and Apple Watch have biometrics. I should just move all my sensitive stuff to my Android products and eschew obfuscation.

See? I’ve overcome a fear right here. It makes me feel safe that I really can lock everything down. Anyone I date from here on out is not part of The Five (the people that know what my alternate history is about…. possibly six if Dana has been paying attention, but I don’t know and can’t.). I don’t want anyone to read e-mail in my history, because it reflects a lot that’s just not me anymore….. and it does no good to dwell on who I wanted to be, because there’s just so many variables. I am doing my best to show up without fail so that I see these changes happening. That I am creating the life I want, rather than being satisfied with the life I have. I don’t want to go anywhere. I want people to come to me. This is perfect in that my sister does not live in DC, but works here. Lots of people work in DC, so I have more than just her that drop in on a whim.

It was a huge fear to move back to DC, because I thought, “what if I don’t fit in anymore?” It couldn’t have been further from the truth. I integrated into my house and community easily. I remember that on the first day I was here, I was sitting out on the front porch and Samantha handed me a Dr Pepper. She said, “I thought I’d bring you one since it’s probably your blood type.” I told her that it wasn’t sugar free, but that she was correct. I still drank it. Let’s not get stupid. I was running a quart low.

DC started feeding me immediately, because I didn’t have to save up money to go and do things. I’ve loaded up my tablet and keyboard, writing anywhere and everywhere. If it’s not too hot, I write outside at the zoo. If it is, I write at any of the museums, I just have to keep a hoodie in my bag. Don’t wear shorts, because you’ll get really hot outside and then walk into Siberia, where you’ll be stuck in shorts for most of what you’re going to do that day.

My favorite Smithsonian museum is the National Portrait Gallery, but I like all of them. My favorite museum overall is International Spy, and when I go, I usually get a membership because it’s the cost of four tickets and traditionally I spend hours at a time, going eight or 10 times for shorter periods, and it’s $25 a visit. Belonging to Spy is a trip, because you get access to all the stuff that goes on after hours. It’s also a tremendous resource if you’re like me, and have no problem browsing at the bookstore for an hour and a half. As I’ve said before, I’m not writing a book about spies, but people who have to become them under duress. I can’t think of a better place to go than a museum who’s already bought all those books.

It was a fear to become a museum member, because I’m quite shy and introverted. I didn’t know if I would spend enough time there to warrant getting a membership. It was a combination of forcing myself to get out of the house and wanting to meet people on a different level, brain-wise. I never felt like anyone was talking down to me, and I had a lot of stupid questions so that I could learn how to ask what I really wanted to know. I actually asked the museum if they’d start a class like that for writers, but I haven’t heard from them. I don’t know enough to teach it (Spy Jargon 101), or I’d offer to spearhead the program so that it’s done by a volunteer and not their meager resources. Yes, they do fantastic things. They’re also privately funded and don’t get government assistance TO MAKE EXHIBITS ABOUT PEOPLE THAT WORK FOR THE GOVERNMENT. Ironic.

If I had time, I’d stop by and see some of Jonna and Tony’s masks before I head to DCA. They give me strength when I don’t have it. I just stare at them and think, “if they got up and did what they did, where’s my excuse?” It has to stop being that I’m afraid, because I am afraid of nearly everything.

It’s why I’m the president of overthinker’s anonymous, why I spill out possibilities regarding problems and solutions…. anything to make it where I have a roadmap because I’m so likely to be distracted. I have a concrete need to know what’s going to happen, because I feel so adrift at times. It’s never a good time for a grandparent to die, but I do feel lucky in that I’ll get to see my family in person for a few days (tomorrow through Friday unless plans change).

What I know for sure is that my grandfather’s house is not near Houston. We’ll have a road trip ahead of us- at least five hours each way. That is premium time just to talk and laugh, road tripping because of sadness, but also the fact that we’ll get to see family we haven’t seen in a long time. I tend to focus on laughs and togetherness when it comes to funerals, because what else are you supposed to do? Even when my mother died at 65 and was robbed of getting to live out a long life, I still focused on the fact that I hadn’t seen my cousins in years. It kept me upright.

The fact that my mother died so young created another fear in me…. that someone would die before I got to tell them something. It made me ramble on in e-mail without taking into account how long they were. I’m sorry to people who don’t communicate like that, but I figure if I put everything in a letter, everything you need from me is probably in there somewhere. I tend to use conversations to clarify. It’s irritating as shit to some people, so I generally ask if people like e-mail before I send them. I warn them that I’ll talk about anything and everything, and so can they.

But it’s a fear that people are just being nice, and therefore I try to get together with people as often as I can. I have a better gauge of the situation, I’m not unloading information that no one needs, even if I think they do.

It’s a fear to write to other people now that this Internet relationship has just gone so wrong. Am I setting myself up for the same rabbit hole? Have I learned enough to be able to handle e-mail responsibly and not get upset and reply without thinking?

Had I thought about it, I would have said something like, “I can see that you’re going through a lot, and have for months. I don’t want to do anything that takes away from your life, only things that add to it. I really do understand your point of view, and have so much empathy for it that I’m hurting for you.” I was too angry to respond and I did it, anyway. I think the outcome would have been the same, though, because it was so clear to me that I didn’t have a place in her life that I didn’t feel like spending more energy and attention. That I could be happy with bread crumbs, or I could take that energy and use it on someone else….. because her breadcrumbs were my morning coffee. I was seeing her emotions through my filter, because she didn’t give me any.

I don’t know why. I didn’t ask why. She said something about not fitting into the mold of friend I’d made for her, and I could only agree. It was based on times past, not times present. That made the present too hard and hurt too much. I’m not even sure she remembers who she was to me anymore, or if it even matters. What attracted her to me was great writing, and, in the end, repelled her. I hope she’ll go back and read in five years….. that maybe something will jump out at her that didn’t before. I need her to see what a mutual admiration society we had, and how I never lost my awe of her, but hers of me was gone and I had a complex about it because I knew exactly when it had gone and why it would never reappear. I wasn’t dumb about this, just too full of hope. She must have been, too, because she tried so hard. We just couldn’t make it gel, and I have to believe that I was right to step back, because I needed to take care of me. I needed to lick my wounds. Every elephant in DC knows how wrecked I am, and they are sympathetic. My bees are flat getting tired of me, but they’re the ones that need to hear all this. They live on gossip, and right now I’m pathetic. I have given them more tea than they can possibly carry…… but they can hear all the things that no one else can. I imagine that they’re flying between our houses, so I tell them to tell her she is loved. That way, I don’t walk around feeling anything except relief that the situation is bad, but it won’t get worse.

I feel extraordinarily selfish and wonder what I should have done instead, because I know it’s not what actually happened. I couldn’t live with three words a month (in its extreme), and she couldn’t live with pages and pages that she thought were telling her how bad I thought she was, when nothing has ever been less true. I thought the sun came out because she was smiling, not the other way around.

I didn’t like being blown off by someone I valued so much, and not knowing whether that’s the message she intended to send…. that blowing each other off was who were now. You would just have to see what happened on Day One to see why Years Three Through 10 were so problematic. It couldn’t have been fun dealing with me, because I hated it, too. We saw each other at our worst, and clawed back up…. just not to where it was solid enough that I could say things like “I have one of those. Lemme drop it in the mail for you.” “I’m headed to Chuy’s. You guys need emergency burritos or anything?”

No one should ever turn down an emergency burrito.

I never actually said those things, just once offered to take her to a thing and realized two others. The first is that I’d accidentally offered to take her to a Mother’s Day event and she has actual children. I don’t, and my mom is dead, so I spaced it. The second is that I realized I shouldn’t be THAT nervous, and I was. By then we’d known each other for years and years. We’d supposedly worked through all our shit. I told her the ball was in her court, and it was 2017 or 18. It’s not something I put a whole lot of stock in, because our relationship has always been virtual on purpose. How do you talk to anyone about anything? Make it where there’s no time constraints. Facebook Messenger was just as real as Skype, and back then I couldn’t just hit a button in Messenger to bring up calling. We were our real selves, and ghosts of ourselves all at once. I think that because reading her e-mails and looking at her picture brings her presence close, but of course it is not the same as being outside on a restaurant patio with frozen margaritas on the way.

Therefore, it’s a fear to write blog entries as well as letters, because I come off great at first. People keep up with me no matter what………… Keeping someone close to me is hard. I seem to have a learning curve of which I am completely unaware. Getting to know an author is tricky, even if you like them. We don’t like us very much, so good luck. 😉

So, there was the pull of having that experience with her, but no passion or drive toward it. Just a “wouldn’t it be nice?” picture floating by. In fact, it didn’t even become important until recently, because I realized that the patterns we used to talk to each other wouldn’t change unless we changed mediums. We need to prove to the other one that we aren’t scary, because that’s what happens when you’ve known someone for ten years and not at all. It’s hard to know how to grieve someone you’ve loved a hundred and crazy percent for a decade, and yet can’t tell you where she keeps her cutting boards. I opened up, and didn’t. She doesn’t know where my cutting boards are, either, but I do know enough to know that her best outcome would be never knowing that. I am not being mean, it’s just that she doesn’t like to cook enough to make that fact worth remembering. She would rather read about the things I cook, if that were a thing I wrote about. People keep telling me to put up recipes. I don’t do that. I look at your pantry and decide what the recipe is on the fly.

I have been told I could get a lot of readers by putting up recipes, and to me, that is the “live, laugh, love” of blogging.

Speaking of writing and drawing people in, that’s a fear as well. I am terrified of success, because every time I’ve managed it, I’ve torn it down out of sheer unpreparedness for life. I barely manage without a partner, and yet I’m still alive….. mostly because I’ve spent so long telling myself that I can be independent, and finding out that ain’t necessarily so.

I am coming to terms with significant fears about my mental and physical health, that I’m not doing so hot on either plane and don’t yet know what it will take to fix it. Nothing is so horrible that it needs attention tonight, I’m just saying. I have a lot of appointments to sit through in which I try not to get worried as we run the numbers on treatment. Some of it isn’t even treatment. I just need to join a gym. No one would say that I needed to lose weight, even me, but I have specific needs in a trainer. I need to strengthen all the muscles that control balance.

My fear touches a little bit of everything, and I am trying to get stronger day by day. It sometimes feels as if I have a mountain to climb and no boots, but I’ll get there one way or another. I do have a spirit that leans into the divine, so right this moment it’s all about letting mystery guide me rather than fear. I want to see where I’m going, without being so impatient to get there that I repeat the same mistakes.

And now we’ve arrived at my biggest fear…. that I will stay the same.