I have a feeling that I’m being punished for noticing Aada’s presence because she just wants to be anonymous. But she’s not anonymous because she’s one of the few stats I recognize unless she’s traveling. And when she doesn’t appear, I assume that she’s traveling so I don’t take it personally. Because I do. I don’t track every reader, but I notice her. She noticed me first.
I am responding to the reader/writer connection because I know that her feelings are complicated. She feels like she cannot express herself to the level that I can, so why even try? I am not speculating. This is something I’ve been told several times a year for over a decade. It makes me feel like absolute crap, because I just communicate. It’s not a competition. I don’t even care if she misspells things, and she doesn’t make a habit of it. Typos drive her as nuts as they drive me, which is honestly part of my passion for her. 😉 Anyone that can spell and use grammar is aces in my book, and I am tired. At first, it is a compliment. After 12 years, it is “I really do not understand your feelings at all and you are using my writing as stonewalling, saying you feel guilty because it is so intimidating.” I just had so many questions, like “how can I make my writing less intimidating for you?” “What can I do to help?”
I was never flummoxed with communication. If you are not a writer, call me on the phone. I won’t pick up, but you can try it.
Kidding, I hate the phone; I will make an exception for the people closest to me because nine times out of ten they are not writers and speaking is quicker. I am the one that types 90 wpm, not them. The answer to feeling overshadowed by me as a writer is to talk to me on the phone or in person, and that is true of most writers. Their work and their personalities are similar, but not the same.
A party with Marshall Mathers is not the same as a concert with Slim Shady.
Aada only wanted to know The AntiLeslie, the writer. She wanted to be a fan, and to have my writing be the highlight of her day. But what I realized is that she is not listening to me. She is looking for her mirror. It is not about my story at all, but about how my story makes her feel and her interpretation of it. That’s what makes me so able to live and let live. Aada looks at my writing and sees pain, because she thinks that her lie is more important than my “I love you.”
Because for her, that is undeniably true.
She is feeling a shame that I am not putting there for her, and I am tired of absorbing it. It makes me feel terrible. The story is not pleasant, but moving on with my life has been. So many things have changed this year for the better, which is good. Frankly, they couldn’t have gotten much worse. I am still in the process of deciding where I want to live, but still in this area because of my new job (which I am not starting for a few weeks because I’m going on vacation with my dad to Annapolis before school).
I didn’t really plan anything. I just want to go to the beach every day, and buy athletic gear at the military surplus stores around town. The military just does sweats right. All my favorite accessories have come from the gift shops at CIA, DIA, and the Pentagon. Now, I couldn’t have gotten into the gift shop at CIA, but my ex-boyfriend could and that is why everyone knows I pitch for Langley (do they even have a team? Spies are so mysterious. 😉 ).
I bring this up because tourists need to know that the gear you see on the street in Washington that says “FBI” and “CIA” and all that is just not the same as getting the gear they wear themselves. The stitching is all wrong and it feels cheap. So going out to Annapolis is my way of saving a little money, because they’ll have the old BDU pants and training jackets no one wears anymore. I have checked with the Pentagon; they do not care if it’s “in” this season.
Mostly what I’m looking for are winter clothes, because it is that season. I already have a wool base layer, but the military specializes in pants that are lighter than jeans, still warm, and a lot tougher. So, let’s do that. Plus, anything that says “Navy” on it counts as formalwear in Annapolis restaurants.
I have always had an Annapolis look to me because I’ve drifted toward that style since I was a child. My kindergarten and first grade school years were spent in Galveston, so penny loafers and shorts were the norm. I deal in crispy, and it has been a joke between me and Aada since we met. The only thing she does not approve of is my Keens, to which I told her to fuck off and she laughed.
Aada is a flip-flop girl because she will actually take the time to go get a pedicure and I won’t. 😉
Being nonbinary, I tend to skip over all the grooming rituals of women. I go through phases of shaving my legs and not, because some days it’s a hassle and some days, it is the moment of Zen that I need to get through the day. Plus, even though I am shaving my legs, I prefer scents that are traditionally male. So, even though bare legs make me look more feminine than I already do, the grooming ritual itself is masculine.
And in fact, I use a men’s shaving brush on my face to apply soap the way women use brushes to apply makeup. It works very well, because I am exfoliating and moisturizing at the same time. My favorite face soap is Yardley oatmeal & almond, and you can get it at Dollar Tree and order it on Amazon. The bars cost a little more on Amazon, but they’re bigger. You won’t regret it because it cleans very well and doesn’t irritate anything.
Speaking of which, the Thread on Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint Soap is very entertaining….. it is a cacophony of, “oh. I have made a horrible mistake.” That’s why I prefer lavender. 😉
In getting back to Aada, I think that she thinks that forgiveness means remission. That the consequences don’t matter and we don’t have to grow past them; we can just reset. That it’s fine not to talk about the past…. just go a few years and drop a “hey.” What the last 12 years have gotten us is a repeat of the same pattern because we never resolved the original sin.
And we both sinned big. We lost the plot and dove into each other too fast, and that is on BOTH of us, Aada. Fools rush in. I hurt her way more than I ever meant to because intention does not equal impact. She will not accept the fact that she did the same thing to me and it matters. I am so honest about the fact that it takes two to tango, and I feel responsible….. and not a little bit. I mean that my blog has been raking me over the coals for 12 years straight, and it has been misinterpreted as “I hate someone else.”
I don’t hate Aada. I wish things were different.
I wish that I had never said anything about my feelings for her, because that was the wedge that made it weird for her, but she couldn’t escape because she’d told her own secrets that upset me. At first, I thought it was all my problem, but then we began to silently argue over who needed who more. Because it didn’t come across explicitly in big letters. It was not:
I need you. Full stop.
I had to guess, and I am not very good at it. That is why I clicked with Tiina like white on rice. There were no unspoken expectations. Show up as yourself. Aada expected masking, but she didn’t know she was expecting masking and neither did I. Because Tiina was not the kind of person who minced words with me, and for that I was grateful because I did not have to struggle with social signals until I was blindsided and all of the sudden everything looked different.
I do not know what is true and what is not, and I am deciding not to worry about it; the problem is unfixable at least for now so it’s just on the back burner while Tiina enjoys a new phase of her life. She’s not going anywhere. I get a flag from her every day. Watching and saying nothing matters, just like it does with Aada. I do not need to process with my friends in order to feel heard, and this past year has said to me, “take a load off. Change your setting. Get out of town.”
Because they both have wreaked havoc on my nervous system without ever meaning to hurt me….. because again, intention does not equal impact. No one can prevent hurting another so that they ALWAYS remain untriggered. It would just be a different scenario if Tiina could hinge, and it’s not fair for me to ask anyone to play “monkey in the middle.” That is for third graders, and frankly beneath me.
I don’t negotiate with children, even when they’re adults acting like children. “Take it down was fine.” “You need help, lol?”
Not so much, no.
Because here’s the thing. I do not tolerate ableist bullshit, even when it’s internalized. Pegging me as crazy just because you don’t like my opinion is punching down, and people know it…… but they do not give a flying fuck about my feelings or they would stop. This young man is not the first or the last to treat me like crap, and it is on me to become unbothered.
I used to have scaffolding for this.
Kill them all. That’s how I roll.
I should say that’s an Aada quote and a response to a Bible verse she thought was funny, but it fits the vibe of us definitely being “The Holy and The Moly.” Because that’s the thing- you can be interfaith if you’re not an asshole. Aada’s a Pagan, Tiina’s a Jew, and the rest of my friends are Atheist because when I say that I am Christian, “they do not think it means what I think it means.” Ironically, atheists are more interested in the historical Jesus’s message than stereotypical Christians, because they cannot and do not focus on the “sticky blood” aspect.
Jesus was a radical and an agent for social change, and that’s what I want to be when I grow up. I’ve known since I was 10 that the church as it stands is not for me…. except in the Episcopal and UCC bubble where I am shielded from most everything that starts with “WWJD?”
WTFWJD? is more my style.
I wore it on a t-shirt to preach and Lisa Nisenfeld told me that she would no longer be accepting sermons from me if I wasn’t wearing it.
The thing is, I know who I am. I am waiting for Aada to know who she is. Because I am not punishing her. I am forgiving her, because she has looked at me and planted several flags.
Most of them Friday.
Stories That Are All True 