2 days... 90 minutes of sleep.... and still wanting to think.
Sometimes I feel very sharklike, in that I need to keep moving at all times in order to stay (in this case psychologically) alive. When I have little to do, I desire to do little: when I have much to do, that's when I find the desires to do things more meaningful with the time I have less of, or I find myself looking more closely at my life.
So yes... two days ago I was up at 5, then I went to school went to the lab and at 7:30 PM started painting the interior of a house until 6:30 AM. I took a 90 minute nap before returning to school, and after I left the lab that night I went painting again. It's 3:30 AM and I'm physically exhausted. But mentally, I'm needing to for a long hard jog.
Within these two days with a 90 minute nap between, I talked to a girl who had went through a very similar breakup to my painful one in September (unapologetic ownership of ex-girlfriend porn and all!). Only she broke up with her ex in the last 2 days... so a lot of the negative feelings were much more fresh. I talked with her about many things as we painted together on our summer job: As modern women we do not want to sacrifice for others and follow them by sacrificing our career, but our careers will have a very rigorous road until quite long after I'd rather meet someone to spend the rest of my life around (I.E. Until I have tenure somewhere, I can have no solid ties to any physical location... and so usually a physical person, who may have contradicting career needs.) But is not-being single really a goal of mine? I feel like I am happier when when I'm half of a set rather than a autonomous unit, but this hasn't always been the case. In fact, I think I'm entering a stage where this may flip around again... where I may actually be quite content with the freedoms of being single. Last time I was much more elated about these freedoms, but now... well... I'm still very content with the ability to spend time with as many friends (who are mostly all male) as I want anytime I want to, or to spend my time and money 100 percent as I want to do so.
So in my state of new found contentment, I did something that up until this point I found too painful to do: read through the breakup emails between me and that particular ex. I think, based on previous experiences... that these things are worth remembering, worth learning from, and there is no fear or pain that shouldn't be eventually faced. They affect me... still... far more than I would admit if I wasn't making a conscious effort to display my weaknesses without fear. For that was one thing I never did in these emails.
I remembered being in pain and stifling the urges to say I love you and cry and beg to take back all the logic of the situation. There was no hint of that in my words: They sounded like hate... they were hate... I should have said that he hurt me incredibly when he forgot me so quickly, to the point where I needed to back away for a while. I should have said I felt he didn't understand me at all, that I loved him... that though a relationship status needed to change but the core of what I valued him for would never change. But to have said that would have put out more risk, would have taken more strength... more faith... than I guess I had at that point.
In my letters I found I had lashed out at him with everything I had, for no apparent purpose other than to make him feel pain. I spoke out of emotion rather than logic or love. I told him I felt like a “temporary plug in an otherwise meaningless existence” and constantly listed how he failed me... how he hurt me... I wanted to be hated, because i wanted him to feel some passion in regards to me rather than nothing at all, after all the passion that I thought would remain constant even after a breakup.
I expected to recognize myself and my motivations, despite the fact that I've went through a lot of change between now and last fall. I introduce myself these days less as a naturalist and more of a spiritual, eco-friendly pacifist. This new me, which is an identity which has made peace with a past and a future that could never yet intersect, does not believe in accidents, does not act or speak to intentionally hurt other living things, does not eat meat except for fish for ethical as well as practical reasons and walks more gently in the world around her. She listens, she gives... and she believes again in things like destiny as well as probability and predictability that comes with natural science.
Damn.... but that wasn't the girl I met in my own correspondence.
Also, reading between the lines again on his end, I still saw the flashing red signs of someone who did not understand me, but I also saw someone who, despite replacing me in 2 weeks... was showing a lot more general consideration than I did in what he didn't say in return. His words were not said to hurt me, they just were. I had no reason to hate him... and a lot more reason to well, dislike myself.
I forgot who I was... the girl who started dating Mark was defined by 2 contradictory impulses: that of spirituality and the sense of destiny, and that of a noted blindspot in my spiritual eye: Mark, the scientist... someone who I admired intensely who could not begin to comprehend let alone empathize with these beliefs, who I loved all the more because of them. But being in a relationship where I couldn't really talk about what was most central to me without being consistently misunderstood... it faded, it changed: some for the worst, but mostly for the better. I was a hypocrite: my actions and my philosophies did not match, because I no longer knew what I believed or who I wanted to be.
I could have been a lot more like Doug after he went through his recent breakup. Although he and his ex also realized they did not understand each other and had grave religious differences, he didn't expound to me on all the places where she had failed him or misunderstood him... Yet I know he was very hurt by these things, and still is to some extent. Yet he acknowledges nothing owed to him that was denied... no false promises withheld... just hurt... and love... and the need for time to reconcile the two. He admitted to weakness: feeling for an ex beyond the logical conclusion that it was time to part, and in doing so showed much more maturity, yet all of the passion I felt I would have to have let go in order to rightfully say “well, it just didn't work out”. To the outside observer it may seem like Doug didn't have these passions very deep... He doesn't talk about it unless prodded... he doesn't talk about a lot of things unless prodded. But I've come to realize there is a great deal of passion he is better at hiding, yet not quite so deceptively as I do... He passes it off as nothing at all, I try to convey unfulfilled passion in my interactions to a sense of being cheated... owed... at worse a reason for hate.
So I've learned from Doug recently. I've learned from a lot of people who never intended to teach me. I've learned from Roberto, who in a lot of ways, taught me to love more deeply and forgive more readily... To live for the moment and take the good while overlooking the bad... All things will end, and most things are uniquely beautiful because of it. I've also learned ironically, from Nemesis... whose personality traits I had held against him in the not-so-distant past were the very ones I found glaring at me in the email. And y'know, he's not so callous and mercurial a guy as I keep wanting to think... even though I would feel very humbled to tell him so. Weird as it sounds... that is a friendship that seems to exist only because he believes I do not value him very much at all.
I've learned from Tali... who managed to see through me and my words during that period of time to this one... who can be 14 and 40 oftentimes at the same time: counselor and counseled... it's strange, I can't explain it... She's a lot of things that can't be, and therefore it is wonderful to be around her.
and Jesse... who has the balls to tell me when I'm being a bitch yet honor me in others... Jesse's not afraid to tell me how he feels, and yet he is... much like me. But we've both vowed a long time ago never to let the shit we say or don't say interfere with what actually is... a friendship where two very fucked up individuals walk fairly parallel roads towards slightly less-fucked up... or a lot less fucked up. Yet all the same time, we know where we've been, we feel the weight of it... and we are not afraid to let eachother see the most abused and insane aspects of our emotions and philosophies we live by... Jesse is there when no one else is... even when we don't know how to fix eachother... we try.
I've learned from Colin, who was and is a much better friend and human being than I've ever given him credit for. In fact, I don't know what I'm going to do in Ithaca without him. I used to think it was a vague need for human contact and the convenience of having Colin nearby that made me appreciate him more than I had when we knew eachother back in Ithaca, but I need his bullshit.... I need the jokes... even when they are disgusting or insulting... especially then... cause not everyone can see beyond the message to to the motive, often very contradictory to the words themselves. For a long time... I couldn't. Colin is one of the most loyal and dedicated friends I have.
And if I didn't go through that breakup back then, I would never have appreciated all of these people to the extent I do now... even people who have been in my life for quite some time I value much much more. couple of the people I have found myself loving in my spare time wouldn't be in my life whatsoever if I had not had went through the events that I did. As strange as it may sound, I feel more loved and complete after loosing what was the most fulfilling romantic relationship in my life, than within it.... where I was contentedly trapped to a persona that I hoped would fit Mark's life, but just wasn't me... It could never fit Marks or anyone else's life in that current form... I needed to break down and rebuild... yet again.
I still feel like I have some growing up to do before I can be in a serious committed relationship.
Less than six months ago I was a crying, shaking wreck who needed a reason to live consistently. I functioned in autopilot holding up a strong image as much as possible to all who I didn't trust, which was the greater bulk of the world. I kept at bay some pretty masochistic thoughts by reminding myself of family duty.. that my father was happy only cause he thought I was doing so well with my life... and when I wasn't... My friend Ivy cared enough to call me to read me Ann LaMott at 3 in the morning... Ryan cared enough to come up with a paragraph of alliteration terms for fuckbuddy while offering his hit-man services... I couldn't make it a waste of his effort.
Things have changed a lot since then. Tonight I acknowledge that I have great friends, and head to grad school with a little bit of a sense of lack of motivation, but without fear of the things which even a couple months ago kept me awake all night. All of my friends have given me my faith back, both in myself, God and in other people... and to some extent, so did Mark... though I don't know how I could ever say all I'd like to say to him misunderstanding my motives...
With all of these people I have praises and apologies... but mostly valuable secrets of very intense emotions that I feel could never be reciprocated, because in most cases... such things have never been: the most intense love I have received from others has always be romance or parental love, and always been powerful, wonderful inconsistent, transient, and terrible. What was stable was much smaller... much less passionate... with much less risk.
So this is how I present myself to those I love. The truth is in many cases the total amount I feel for my non-romantic relationships approaches if not eventually surpasses the romantic ones... (which annoyed and/or the ex a lot... one of the many misunderstandings.)But I keep fearing and knowing that no one will ever understand this, not fully... and they will never reciprocate... I care more than is healthy in so many cases. I never tell the people around me why I find them amazing if I could even translate it into logical reasoning. So I say nothing: For fear of misunderstanding, ridicule... or just not having it returned.
To tell people of these emotions would admit weakness... to do so would not fit the image of the girl with dirt under her fingernails, science in her head, smut in her mouth and and swords on her wall. I like to present myself as independent, strong... disrespectful.. quirky... and unrepentant. If you don't get me... then so fucking what.
But this is not usually what's in my head.... I need you, I miss you... I'm constantly in love... constantly looking for and needing a precious little that would seem very insignificant to most... but is oxygen to me. That hug... that joke... just seeing you at all for any reason and having any degree of trust bestowed to me.... anything that is uniquely ours. Perhaps I could tell you all individually that I love you, that in my own way, I am probably in love with you... but I don't really know as I can. I can type this only because I'm tired and I don't have to make eye contact with any of you when I hit the publish button... in fact... a lot of you who I do love and empathize with so intensely probably won't read this anyways.... It's safe.
But I care. I'd give you anything you need that I knew you would accept from me without resentment, I pray for you... wordlessly...even when you don't believe it's effective, but I feel you... rejoice with you, cry over you... and have some way of seeing you as entirely unique to this world... irreplaceable in my life... It's not a role you fill that another character might take up... you've shaped me, and you're fantastically wonderful to the utmost sappy and emo degree ever. Shakespeare would probably shudder at some of the fluffy prose that wanders the corners of my mind in regards to my friends....
I write about you but only when you're not looking... and when you are looking, well... then I'm probably downplay it... a lot... to keep things safe for me mentally. I will force myself to see you not as divine but as human: to see the faults first. I'm antagonistic or just quiet. The best I can probably offer you when you need it is a beer... or a ear to listen... but you probably wouldn't want it anyways... Yet I want to give you so much more you and keep safe all that you offer back... but that's all sublime, because on the surface I offer you bullshit, and all the while, I hope your not buying a minute of it.
And I need sleep... And to send this beforehand. Because if I read over this after a good night sleep to regain my composure... I'm not sure I'll post this... I'm sure I sound like a whiny teenage hippie Dante who needs mood stabilizers.... or something... something very emo...
yes... sleep.
So yes... two days ago I was up at 5, then I went to school went to the lab and at 7:30 PM started painting the interior of a house until 6:30 AM. I took a 90 minute nap before returning to school, and after I left the lab that night I went painting again. It's 3:30 AM and I'm physically exhausted. But mentally, I'm needing to for a long hard jog.
Within these two days with a 90 minute nap between, I talked to a girl who had went through a very similar breakup to my painful one in September (unapologetic ownership of ex-girlfriend porn and all!). Only she broke up with her ex in the last 2 days... so a lot of the negative feelings were much more fresh. I talked with her about many things as we painted together on our summer job: As modern women we do not want to sacrifice for others and follow them by sacrificing our career, but our careers will have a very rigorous road until quite long after I'd rather meet someone to spend the rest of my life around (I.E. Until I have tenure somewhere, I can have no solid ties to any physical location... and so usually a physical person, who may have contradicting career needs.) But is not-being single really a goal of mine? I feel like I am happier when when I'm half of a set rather than a autonomous unit, but this hasn't always been the case. In fact, I think I'm entering a stage where this may flip around again... where I may actually be quite content with the freedoms of being single. Last time I was much more elated about these freedoms, but now... well... I'm still very content with the ability to spend time with as many friends (who are mostly all male) as I want anytime I want to, or to spend my time and money 100 percent as I want to do so.
So in my state of new found contentment, I did something that up until this point I found too painful to do: read through the breakup emails between me and that particular ex. I think, based on previous experiences... that these things are worth remembering, worth learning from, and there is no fear or pain that shouldn't be eventually faced. They affect me... still... far more than I would admit if I wasn't making a conscious effort to display my weaknesses without fear. For that was one thing I never did in these emails.
I remembered being in pain and stifling the urges to say I love you and cry and beg to take back all the logic of the situation. There was no hint of that in my words: They sounded like hate... they were hate... I should have said that he hurt me incredibly when he forgot me so quickly, to the point where I needed to back away for a while. I should have said I felt he didn't understand me at all, that I loved him... that though a relationship status needed to change but the core of what I valued him for would never change. But to have said that would have put out more risk, would have taken more strength... more faith... than I guess I had at that point.
In my letters I found I had lashed out at him with everything I had, for no apparent purpose other than to make him feel pain. I spoke out of emotion rather than logic or love. I told him I felt like a “temporary plug in an otherwise meaningless existence” and constantly listed how he failed me... how he hurt me... I wanted to be hated, because i wanted him to feel some passion in regards to me rather than nothing at all, after all the passion that I thought would remain constant even after a breakup.
I expected to recognize myself and my motivations, despite the fact that I've went through a lot of change between now and last fall. I introduce myself these days less as a naturalist and more of a spiritual, eco-friendly pacifist. This new me, which is an identity which has made peace with a past and a future that could never yet intersect, does not believe in accidents, does not act or speak to intentionally hurt other living things, does not eat meat except for fish for ethical as well as practical reasons and walks more gently in the world around her. She listens, she gives... and she believes again in things like destiny as well as probability and predictability that comes with natural science.
Damn.... but that wasn't the girl I met in my own correspondence.
Also, reading between the lines again on his end, I still saw the flashing red signs of someone who did not understand me, but I also saw someone who, despite replacing me in 2 weeks... was showing a lot more general consideration than I did in what he didn't say in return. His words were not said to hurt me, they just were. I had no reason to hate him... and a lot more reason to well, dislike myself.
I forgot who I was... the girl who started dating Mark was defined by 2 contradictory impulses: that of spirituality and the sense of destiny, and that of a noted blindspot in my spiritual eye: Mark, the scientist... someone who I admired intensely who could not begin to comprehend let alone empathize with these beliefs, who I loved all the more because of them. But being in a relationship where I couldn't really talk about what was most central to me without being consistently misunderstood... it faded, it changed: some for the worst, but mostly for the better. I was a hypocrite: my actions and my philosophies did not match, because I no longer knew what I believed or who I wanted to be.
I could have been a lot more like Doug after he went through his recent breakup. Although he and his ex also realized they did not understand each other and had grave religious differences, he didn't expound to me on all the places where she had failed him or misunderstood him... Yet I know he was very hurt by these things, and still is to some extent. Yet he acknowledges nothing owed to him that was denied... no false promises withheld... just hurt... and love... and the need for time to reconcile the two. He admitted to weakness: feeling for an ex beyond the logical conclusion that it was time to part, and in doing so showed much more maturity, yet all of the passion I felt I would have to have let go in order to rightfully say “well, it just didn't work out”. To the outside observer it may seem like Doug didn't have these passions very deep... He doesn't talk about it unless prodded... he doesn't talk about a lot of things unless prodded. But I've come to realize there is a great deal of passion he is better at hiding, yet not quite so deceptively as I do... He passes it off as nothing at all, I try to convey unfulfilled passion in my interactions to a sense of being cheated... owed... at worse a reason for hate.
So I've learned from Doug recently. I've learned from a lot of people who never intended to teach me. I've learned from Roberto, who in a lot of ways, taught me to love more deeply and forgive more readily... To live for the moment and take the good while overlooking the bad... All things will end, and most things are uniquely beautiful because of it. I've also learned ironically, from Nemesis... whose personality traits I had held against him in the not-so-distant past were the very ones I found glaring at me in the email. And y'know, he's not so callous and mercurial a guy as I keep wanting to think... even though I would feel very humbled to tell him so. Weird as it sounds... that is a friendship that seems to exist only because he believes I do not value him very much at all.
I've learned from Tali... who managed to see through me and my words during that period of time to this one... who can be 14 and 40 oftentimes at the same time: counselor and counseled... it's strange, I can't explain it... She's a lot of things that can't be, and therefore it is wonderful to be around her.
and Jesse... who has the balls to tell me when I'm being a bitch yet honor me in others... Jesse's not afraid to tell me how he feels, and yet he is... much like me. But we've both vowed a long time ago never to let the shit we say or don't say interfere with what actually is... a friendship where two very fucked up individuals walk fairly parallel roads towards slightly less-fucked up... or a lot less fucked up. Yet all the same time, we know where we've been, we feel the weight of it... and we are not afraid to let eachother see the most abused and insane aspects of our emotions and philosophies we live by... Jesse is there when no one else is... even when we don't know how to fix eachother... we try.
I've learned from Colin, who was and is a much better friend and human being than I've ever given him credit for. In fact, I don't know what I'm going to do in Ithaca without him. I used to think it was a vague need for human contact and the convenience of having Colin nearby that made me appreciate him more than I had when we knew eachother back in Ithaca, but I need his bullshit.... I need the jokes... even when they are disgusting or insulting... especially then... cause not everyone can see beyond the message to to the motive, often very contradictory to the words themselves. For a long time... I couldn't. Colin is one of the most loyal and dedicated friends I have.
And if I didn't go through that breakup back then, I would never have appreciated all of these people to the extent I do now... even people who have been in my life for quite some time I value much much more. couple of the people I have found myself loving in my spare time wouldn't be in my life whatsoever if I had not had went through the events that I did. As strange as it may sound, I feel more loved and complete after loosing what was the most fulfilling romantic relationship in my life, than within it.... where I was contentedly trapped to a persona that I hoped would fit Mark's life, but just wasn't me... It could never fit Marks or anyone else's life in that current form... I needed to break down and rebuild... yet again.
I still feel like I have some growing up to do before I can be in a serious committed relationship.
Less than six months ago I was a crying, shaking wreck who needed a reason to live consistently. I functioned in autopilot holding up a strong image as much as possible to all who I didn't trust, which was the greater bulk of the world. I kept at bay some pretty masochistic thoughts by reminding myself of family duty.. that my father was happy only cause he thought I was doing so well with my life... and when I wasn't... My friend Ivy cared enough to call me to read me Ann LaMott at 3 in the morning... Ryan cared enough to come up with a paragraph of alliteration terms for fuckbuddy while offering his hit-man services... I couldn't make it a waste of his effort.
Things have changed a lot since then. Tonight I acknowledge that I have great friends, and head to grad school with a little bit of a sense of lack of motivation, but without fear of the things which even a couple months ago kept me awake all night. All of my friends have given me my faith back, both in myself, God and in other people... and to some extent, so did Mark... though I don't know how I could ever say all I'd like to say to him misunderstanding my motives...
With all of these people I have praises and apologies... but mostly valuable secrets of very intense emotions that I feel could never be reciprocated, because in most cases... such things have never been: the most intense love I have received from others has always be romance or parental love, and always been powerful, wonderful inconsistent, transient, and terrible. What was stable was much smaller... much less passionate... with much less risk.
So this is how I present myself to those I love. The truth is in many cases the total amount I feel for my non-romantic relationships approaches if not eventually surpasses the romantic ones... (which annoyed and/or the ex a lot... one of the many misunderstandings.)But I keep fearing and knowing that no one will ever understand this, not fully... and they will never reciprocate... I care more than is healthy in so many cases. I never tell the people around me why I find them amazing if I could even translate it into logical reasoning. So I say nothing: For fear of misunderstanding, ridicule... or just not having it returned.
To tell people of these emotions would admit weakness... to do so would not fit the image of the girl with dirt under her fingernails, science in her head, smut in her mouth and and swords on her wall. I like to present myself as independent, strong... disrespectful.. quirky... and unrepentant. If you don't get me... then so fucking what.
But this is not usually what's in my head.... I need you, I miss you... I'm constantly in love... constantly looking for and needing a precious little that would seem very insignificant to most... but is oxygen to me. That hug... that joke... just seeing you at all for any reason and having any degree of trust bestowed to me.... anything that is uniquely ours. Perhaps I could tell you all individually that I love you, that in my own way, I am probably in love with you... but I don't really know as I can. I can type this only because I'm tired and I don't have to make eye contact with any of you when I hit the publish button... in fact... a lot of you who I do love and empathize with so intensely probably won't read this anyways.... It's safe.
But I care. I'd give you anything you need that I knew you would accept from me without resentment, I pray for you... wordlessly...even when you don't believe it's effective, but I feel you... rejoice with you, cry over you... and have some way of seeing you as entirely unique to this world... irreplaceable in my life... It's not a role you fill that another character might take up... you've shaped me, and you're fantastically wonderful to the utmost sappy and emo degree ever. Shakespeare would probably shudder at some of the fluffy prose that wanders the corners of my mind in regards to my friends....
I write about you but only when you're not looking... and when you are looking, well... then I'm probably downplay it... a lot... to keep things safe for me mentally. I will force myself to see you not as divine but as human: to see the faults first. I'm antagonistic or just quiet. The best I can probably offer you when you need it is a beer... or a ear to listen... but you probably wouldn't want it anyways... Yet I want to give you so much more you and keep safe all that you offer back... but that's all sublime, because on the surface I offer you bullshit, and all the while, I hope your not buying a minute of it.
And I need sleep... And to send this beforehand. Because if I read over this after a good night sleep to regain my composure... I'm not sure I'll post this... I'm sure I sound like a whiny teenage hippie Dante who needs mood stabilizers.... or something... something very emo...
yes... sleep.
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