I woke up randomly. Because I thought it was later, I grabbed my tablet. Then, I couldn’t go back to sleep and thought, “eh. Might as well get a jump on the day.” I haven’t slept well, so it’s also equal parts “why keep trying?” I can’t force myself back to bed, and it’s not quite late enough for me to think about coffee yet. I might go back to sleep after I finish this entry. It helps to sleep after a writing session, because your body has no energy after all your emotions have run through it. You don’t need sleep so much because you are tired, but because your mind is so overloaded that you need to reset. Maybe that’s just me, but it feels typical of people who use creative juice. When it’s flowing, the adrenaline that comes with it is wonderful. There’s also a deep crash afterwards, just like for singers. I just hadn’t put it together that for creative writers, the adrenaline stops at “Post.”
Supergrover thought I was saying that our relationship was over and she blew up at me, saying “please never contact me again.” Whether she was just mad or whether this is really it is on her, because I explained what I meant. Didn’t stop her from going full blast on me, though. I am not going to miss reading my work for everything I say about her and immediately thinking I’m out to get her. Whether she apologized for it or not, that’s her first instinct. She doesn’t hear my pain. She hears me inflicting pain. That means she’s not listening.
For instance, the SITUATION being creepy to me became “I am creepy” and “you are creeped out by me.” Neither of those things have ever been true and I wasn’t namecalling. Having someone say that they’re your real friend while not wanting to tell you anything about them is starting to weird me out. The reason it does is that telling her more of my story without knowing more of hers is just feeding the imbalance. She said she wanted to solve everything the same way we got into it. It’s not going to work. Her first reaction is that I’m out to get her, and that’s not going to get fixed by not talking about our issues.
We just aren’t on the same wavelength, and neither one of us know how to find the other’s. For instance, thinking that me being tired of trying to find topics to talk about and being met with “I’m not going to talk about that.” Ok, well. Let me know when you do figure out what it is that you want to talk about with me, because from where I’m sitting, if I don’t contact you and tell you about my life, I’ll never hear from you again.
I’m not the one she chose to hear her story. Nothing in her list left me anything to work with, because it was everything she didn’t want to talk about and therefore I found myself feeling like there were too many land mines. That anything that would actually fix our problem is found where she doesn’t want to go.
She doesn’t want to fix the problem. She wants to have fixed it. It’s not fixed, because she doesn’t want to see me in person (but never say never) and she doesn’t want to talk about anything involving herself. It’s not a two-way relationship, and she says I never gave her a chance.
She’s been such a jerk to me for so many years that it only took a week for me to decide she’s got to drive the bus. I’m not going to try to fit into her rubric of topics, because no matter which one I choose, it’s off limits.
She says the same of me, that I’m too hard on her. Maybe. Or maybe I’m just exhausted, and don’t have time for people who think I’m out to get them. That a week more of it was all I could stand. I went through enormous changes to be who I am today, and she said of being vulnerable, “not everyone can be on your timeline of immediacy.” That means the change wasn’t genuine. I caught her in a moment. If she wants to be vulnerable, she will. But not until then and I’m not in charge of the process.
It’s a problem if she won’t be vulnerable more than once.
She has her own laundry list of things she hates about me, but she’s not the author of this blog. There’s room for everyone’s stories, and I’m sure hers of me isn’t that great. But, she doesn’t count all the years I’ve been waiting for her to realize that she needed to be vulnerable and she was. She just couldn’t hold on to that feeling and I feel smaller than I did before.
Her take-home message was basically “I will continue doing exactly what I have been doing.” I already know how that story ends. I’m not interested in writing that sequel. I also know that maybe she’ll get wise, maybe she won’t. Not my call. I can’t control the people around me, but I can control the people I’m around.
Stories That Are All True 