Throwing OUT the parental imperative

[written Oct 27 but not posted 'til today]

and so we are driven
over and over,
and on and on

by the unfinished business visited on us
by our parents.

They know not what they do,
nor did their parents,
nor their parents' parents before them.

So it goes, endlessly, a viciously unbroken chain
down the generations.

Sins visited on sons

resentments visited on daughters.

When, and HOW, does it stop?

Merely willing it does not seem to make it so –
the SOB is ELUSIVE, and escapes our grasp.

But we try.

To push it away, to resist. To be DIFFERENT
than they were.

To not make the same mistakes that they made.

And to stop passing along the pain.


***
People, mostly, seem unaware of what they do, or why

Oblivious to their deepest drives, they pursue their parents’ dreams for them
like blind, deaf and dumb robots

just following orders.


***
‘Forgiveness’ is not the answer.

RELEASE is.

As Vianne finally released her mother’s ashes to the sly north wind in Chocolat, so must I find a way to rid myself of the mantle of beliefs and burdens that my parents carried.

I must cast it away, into the hurricane winds of fate.

Let their unfinished business
remain THEIRS.

NOT mine.

***
Many a child
carries on her parent's business
long after the parent is dead
in hopes of currying the favor
that was never won in life,

It is like a curse
a geas
an ALBATROSS
around one's neck
from which one can never, fully, be free.

It is as if
when you were a brand, new, raw, lump of clay, fresh from the womb

they grabbed you up, slammed you to the ground and
PUNCHED you

leaving the indelible mark of their ANGRY FIST

as if to say,

“I was never free.

And so neither shall YOU escape, either.”

It is as if they are saying,

“As I have suffered, so shall you.”

***
I think I, all unwittingly,

got my revenge on my father, when,
as he lay dying, and was gasping his last breaths,

I said,
“It’s ok dad, it’s ok to go. It’s all right.”

And with what little breath he had remaining,
he made a feeble, what seemed like a terrified, anguished
cry, a sob, almost, wrenched from him, at that penultimate moment of his life -

like a seagull at a great distance.

I have always wondered what it meant.

And now I wonder: Did he see it, as long last

as our recognition

of freedom from his tyranny?

For *all* fathers, under patriarchy,
are tyrants,

no matter whether they wear a sheep’s clothing

or a wolf’s.

***
I think I had felt
that he was hanging on for our mother’s sake
because she NEEDED him so much.

But at long last, he could not hang on any longer.

I meant it as a blessing, a release,
a surcease of sorrow

into peace.

I hope he took it that way.

Hermit

It's funny, I've been more and more of a hermit, as I try to follow my 'gut' and let things fall away and trust (hope?) that somehow I will survive in spite of having less work and even *less* money.

That I will 'turn the corner' just at the right moment, and things will begin coming up roses. That if I just BELIEVE (and, of course, click my heels in my red ruby slippers :-) that it will ALL COME TOGETHER.

Now, I'm not saying I believe in magic.

Nor do I believe in positive thinking.

But I *do* believe in being yourself as hard as you can. Because, otherwise, what's the point? If you go through life trying to be someone other than who you *are*, you're DOOMED to misery. Or, at least, that's what *I* think.

But. Who is this *I* of whom I speak? I mean, *I*, on one day, might be this happy, cheerful, carefree, delightful, charming being who smiles at everyone and scatters fairydust upon one and all, and the world seems full of rainbows and unicorns and sparkle ponies.

And then: Gray, gloom, doom. Horrors! So much turns upon so little - one cog loses a tooth and the whole machine seizes up.

And yet, at the same time, I feel, often, like that cactus in the desert that blooms riotously with the tiniest drop of rain. Because my life has been so sere in certain ways, I bloom easily and quickly under the tender care of any random passerby.

So which is it?

The answer is: Both. I am mercurial, and fickle, and unpredictable. As are life, and the weather. Why expect *me* to remain unchanging when everything around me is like a roulette wheel, a kaleidoscope, an endless going-to-hell-in-a-bucket ride.

Why not just hang on and enjoy it?

***
Like today. After not having *touched* my fiddle in, oh, maybe a week? Two? I had a rehearsal this afternoon with a bunch of people I didn't know in a place I'd never been playing music I'd never seen (well, not *all* of it - some of the tunes were old familiars.)

Standard 'pro' gig, right? Everything's a crap shoot. You have no idea what's going to happen, and you hope for the best. And usually it works out fine, as long as none of the giant, competing egos in the room fall and CRUSH you to death.

So, speaking of egos, the lady who hired me for the gig is someone who annoys the living *crap* out of me, and for whom I have avoided playing, like the plague, lo these many years.

But this particular time the combination of factors was right: The timing (no other gigs that particular weekend); the money is marginal, but just barely adequate; it's a small ensemble; and the music and venue sounded interesting - a combination of old favorites and a few new works to back up a dance troupe. Never done something like that, and it's in a 'cool' part of town. Figured I'd be playing with a bunch of young, up-and-coming, wannabe hipsters who're trying to get in on the artsy scene.

So I drag my fanny up there, resisting all the way, still feeling funked out from caffeine and sugar and stress. And having to amp myself up for this after not having played for so long.

I get there, and sure enough: The room is practically *seething* with the energy of all these huge egos bashing off the walls. I want to lie down on the floor and just collapse, and not move. I can feel my energy draining away already.

So, I make a decision, though not really consciously (I see it more in retrospect): I will *not* let these people get to me. I will play the music *my* way, and be a good musician on *my* terms. I will absolutely *not* get sucked into the power and ego bullshit.

And it works! I think only because, out of the 8 or so people there, not including the dancer, at least two of the other players (interestingly, they were both men? Most of the friction was with the lady who hired me, and her daughter) seemed to be sort of 'on my side' - I kept making asides that kind of went opposite to what the 'dominators' were saying.

And even though I *thought* I was muttering them under my breath, people kept responding to what I was saying! So, it was as if I was actually *needed*, by the dynamic of the group, kind of like finding the right blend of ingredients for a stew (or possibly something more elegant :-)

In fact this was confirmed at the end, when somebody made a comment about appreciating me bringing my 'fiddlistic' viewpoint to the group, and I said, "I feel like I'm playing tug of war!" And the guy said, "Well, that means we need you even more!" (This was the composer guy saying this, who happened to also be one of the cellists.)

And I said, "Well, if I just suddenly *stop*, it's because I'm just taking a rest." And he laughed (slightly tensely - turns out he's the hiring lady's *son* [no nepotism *here*, no-sirree-Bob] and I think he felt a bit caught in the middle, but also seemed appreciative to not be the only one to have to stand up to his domineering mother. [ach, the feminist in me is saying, whose side are you *on* here, girl? confusing]) and said, "Tension and release." Which is, of course, the standard formula for all dynamic art forms - music, dance, movies, etc.

So I escaped with my life! And my ego was not steamrollered, I didn't have to shake it back into 3D shape like one of those Wile E. type characters in cartoons.

Whew.

Oh, so I'm just remembering the original thought that triggered all this:
(dagnab blooger - yes, BLOOGER, like BOOGER :-) - ATE a piece of my post! Will attempt to re-create.)

Periodically I wonder whether all this hermiting is doing me any good. Like, all this time I spend processing and 'learning' new ways of thinking and being and trying like *mad* to overwrite the old negative, destructive tape loops in my brain - is it *working*?

And today I say: Fuck YEAH, it's working! I mean, just LOOK at what I did today! That was un-fucking-beLIEVable! I mean, I stood up to them in ways that I'd *never* have done before, not where actual money and future (possible) reputation was at stake. I basically just said, fuck it - if I can't be myself at a gig like *this*? Then I don't want any part of this particular world any more. These people are just TOO fucking uptight, and, frankly, NON-MUSICAL for me. *I* get accused of 'thinking too much', but in fact I'm actually *quite* right-brained when it comes to music and art. I *think* I have the ability (most of the time) to *switch* between right- and left-brained thinking depending on the people and the situation. I mean, isn't that why we *have* both halves? Seems pretty silly to me that we each have these huge, giant crania (? singular?), but that most people only use *half* (or less?) of the supposed capacity they've got. Blargh.

So I just have to keep trusting my instincts. Yay, me! :-) Because, truly, what else can I *do*, as I said before? I *have* to be ME, just as hard as can. Because I really, truly believe there's no *point* otherwise.

I suppose the *obvious*, positive-thinking-spin answer to all this is, if you just be your*self*, then you'll piss off or drive away all those with whom you're *not* compatible, and anybody left standing (a kind of emotional version of musical chairs, maybe?) has *got* to be at least an approximation of a possible companion, compatriot, whatever.

So I'm goin' with it, fer now, less'n I think o' somethin' better.

Damocles, or: Fortunately, Unfortunately

Watching Lemony Snickets. I watched it once before, didn't make much of an impression, except that I loved the over-the-top stage sets (or whatever you call it in movies). (And decided Jim Carry was an obnoxious SOB, although, I have to admit, he's *insanely* [nyuk nyuk] perfect as the terryingly oppressive, cruel guardian to the children.)

So I've watched it 3 or 4 times in the last few days, wondering what draws me to it just now (other than the fact that nothing else that I've ordered has come in at the library :-).

I'm guessing that it's because the kids in the movie are so freakin' SMART! I feel just like them, though I have to say I relate a bit more to the boy than to the girl - he's a reader. Though she's an inventor, and I'm an inventor too, though more in the sense of having random, mad, wacky (and wonderful) ideas constantly, just with no particular inclination to follow them through. The ideas that I actually *make* are more like - toys, or 'creations' - things out of paper and string and fabric and whatever happens to be lying around. Something pretty to look at, that moves and changes color and flashes in the light, or plays with light and shadow. Sort of like moving artwork, like mobiles and such.

(Yes, I'm a parenthetical thinker. But I do - usually - *eventually* remember and/or wander back to the place/subject I started with. Though sometimes? not. :-)

***
So anyway. Damocles.

So I'm watching this movie for the nth time, and suddenly I notice that the boat dock where the kids land to stay with their Aunt Josephine (the 3rd in a series of unfortunate attempts at finding them a guardian) is called 'Damocles Dock'.

Curious, I google Damocles. The gist is, this king named Dionysius was a really wealthy dude, and had many followers. One day, overhearing a fellow named Damocles admiring the king's charmed life, Dionysius said to Damocles, "Well, how would you like to trade places for a day?"

So Damocles became king for a day, enjoying all the luxuries and privileges of the king.

As he sat down for the evening meal, and was lifting a goblet of wine to his lips, Damocles happened to glance upward and was shocked and horrified to see a huge sword hanging from the ceiling by a single horsehair, the blade nearly touching his head.

He exclaimed about it to the king, who said, "Well, this is what my life is like. At any moment someone, anyone, really, could decide to cut that thread and end my life. So, what do you think now? Do you still wish you could have my life?"

Damocles, of course, realized that things were not as magical and easy for the king as he had believed. So he went back to his own life and was ever grateful that he didn't live a life so fraught with peril as the king's.

(I'm paraphrasing from a version I got here: http://www dot inspirationalstories.com/0/2.html. Partly trying to get better at storytelling, and was also *trying* for a shorter version. Alas. Maybe next time :-)

***
So, in the movie (Lemony Snickets), Damocles Dock suggests impending doom or disaster. A warning.

But what it made me think about was how things can turn so quickly.

Like the book, "Fortunately, Unfortunately," we used to have when I was a kid. It went something like this:

"Fred (I can't remember the guy's name) was flying along in his airplane, having a lovely time.

"Unfortunately, the motor died, and the plane began to fall.

"Fortunately, Fred had a parachute.

"Unfortunately, the parachute wouldn't open.

"Fortunately, there was a haystack directly below where Fred was falling.

"Unfortunately, there was a pitchfork sticking up from the haystack!"

And the book goes on and on in this vein, I can't remember how it comes out - whether Fred is, in the end, fortunate, or unfortunate.

***
So all that was a windup to today's story.

I'm running out of steam, so I'll try to make it short.

My car got stuck, and a Good Samaritan came along and rescued me.  My car's still sitting where it stopped, but I got home, along with all my stuff, and am here typing on my computer in my warm, cozy room in my little house.

So.  I'm grateful for the person who helped me!  And am fully aware that THINGS CAN ALWAYS GET WORSE.

Instead of worrying about them?  I'm watching this movie.  Again.  Like a good little escapist :-)

Fall: A time of grieving, and letting go

According to Chinese notions of energy and the body, Fall is the time when old, unfinished emotional business comes to the surface and asks, yet again to be resolved. Grief, mainly - loss, remorse, etc. According to this belief system, the body parts most affected by unexpressed old grief are lungs and large intestine.

I'm re-watching Ice Age for the millionth time, and the scene where the little mammoth curls up under a snow-covered tree, lost, seeking shelter, and finds a mama possum hanging down, peering at her.

The mama possum takes her in (yeah, well, it's a *cartoon*. *I* didn't write the story!), and Ellie (the mammoth) becomes part of the possum family.

Knowing my downstairs neighbor was home, and hearing how quiet it is, I was aware that he'd hear me if I cried, and I felt embarrassed. So I cried a little, but not enough.

Minutes later, my throat started to feel sore.

So, I stopped the movie, thought about my plans for the afternoon - need to renew my vehicle tabs, but it's a long drive, I'm nearly out of gas, the one trip I *have* to make this weekend, for a rehearsal tomorrow, will still be in October. I can do it Monday, take the bus if I have to.

Plus it's pouring - the temperature's dropping like mad, I heard from someone yesterday that it's supposed to be a nasty winter this year, and today is the first day that it feels like winter (I think we go directly from summer to winter, we don't ever really seem to have much of a fall.)

And my neighbor gave my some money (for bills) today, and I thought, what if he's sick? Did he give me some germs along with the $$?

So then I thought: Stay home. Do whatever you have to do, but don't go out right now.

So I played back through the sad part, and cried, and immediately my throat felt better.

Amazing stuff, this energy medicine thinking. It makes it really clear (to *me*, at least) that the human organism makes no distinction between body and mind - that's an entirely artificial construct humans have created for some reason that currently escapes me. Kind of like a fad, I think - a long-playing obsession with the 'Age of Reason'. Well, turns out it's not as 'reason'able as we'd like to think.

Connections

I lose my sense of 'self' when I don't connect with another human in a pretty solid, real way EACH DAY. It can be as little as a meaningful email, or possibly a personal phone call (not business related).

It's as if - trying to find words - little hooks of human interaction pull me along, from one day to the next, and without them, I am lost. I forget who I am, where I am, what day it is. I lose my sense of self, of time and meaning.

And yet, human interaction, much of the time, exhausts rather than restores me, unless *I* am in control of how, when, where, with whom and for how long it happens.

So I am wondering:

Do children who don’t ‘attach’ as children (through no fault of their own, but because their *parents* don’t know how to parent properly) not develop the little ‘hooks’ that make people feel connected to each other?

Which is not to say that such a child could not *ever* develop that ability to connect.

But maybe it’s harder? And that the day-to-day, hour-to-hour, moment-to-moment connection with other humans is *just as important* for adults as it is for infants?

Only, in our culture, which is *full* of poorly attached people (product of isolationist Western child-rearing practices, among other things), nobody *notices*. Because it’s considered ‘normal’ to be so isolated and alone much of the time.

But really, it *isn’t* normal to be as isolated as many Americans are.

And those of us who didn’t have good, solid attachments in infancy simply don’t know how to do it.

So we sort of flail around with our little tentacles (hooks), trying to find something to hook to, but they don’t stick.

Because, never having experienced ‘continuity’ on a moment-to-moment, hour-to-hour basis as infants, we don’t ‘contain’, or have inside us, what that sense of continuity *feels* like.

I’ve read that we develop our ‘sense of self’ as infants from how well our parents respond to our needs – our cries for attention, food, care – and that we either become self-sufficient or learn a sort of helplessness (and all shades in between) depending on how responsive our parents were.

Not only do we develop the sense of ‘wanted’ and ‘lovable’ versus ‘unwanted’ and ‘unlovable’ from how we are treated, but we also develop our sense of competence based on *how well our needs were met*.

Much, if not most of this happens during that extended non-verbal phase, where most communication is via body language, touch and eye contact, before the age of two.

***
A baby with UNRESPONSIVE PARENTS learns that SHE DOES NOT GET TO CHOOSE

WHO she interacts with
or HOW
or WHEN
or WHERE.

She, in effect, LEARNS to have

NO BOUNDARIES.

***
Babies, ideally, are IN CONTROL of the interaction with the parents.

In other words, it is the BABY who teaches the PARENT what is needed, not the other way round.

A baby who does not have responsive parents DOES NOT GET WHAT SHE NEEDS.

So she learns a ‘broken’ pattern of interaction with others: Non-sensical.

The interaction does not make sense to her inner sense of ‘rightness’ that is (I believe) inborn in all (or at least most?) humans.

In other words: A baby does not have to be taught to flail her little arms – she just does it.

A baby does not have to be taught to scream when frightened or cry when hungry – she just does it.

Partly because these are the only ways she can communicate, at least in the beginning.

And a newborn has even fewer options – opening or closing the eyes; or possibly turning her head away from an unwanted stimulus.

***
My sense is that the isolation cycle is a vicious one - kind of like, "The rich get richer, the poor get poorer."

In other words, those who had good attachment as infants continue to have good attachment as adults; where those of us who had poor or possibly non-existent attachment as infants have a heckuva time with continuity as adults.

And it affects *everything*, not just relationships.

Because I think, at foundation, we almost *perceive* ourselves via our attachments and connections to others.

I can't seem to think of a better way to say that, it seems unclear, best I can do just now.

***
I guess I'm trying to say, it seems to me that the length of time between meaningful and substantive nteraction with another human in some way mimics? or mirrors? or recreates?

the sense one had as a child of
unpredictability
unreliability

Possibly. Not sure those are the right words.

*If* one's self-sense is, to large extent, dependent on reflections of the self from other humans (think about how much time we humans spend telling our stories to each other - mirroring, right?)

then lack of continuity becomes like trying to make sense of a very grainy picture with such low resolution that it just looks like a bunch of random, unrelated dots.

Need to grow UNIMPEDED in my own time and way

Life force.


Fear of ‘getting it wrong’

interferes with my growth

then I get ANGRY
to push away whatever is blocking me.

***
My eyes were pushing down on my STOMACH
so that I could not see
pain, shame, fear

It was keeping me from going after, and GETTING, what I wanted.

So now I let them relax (as much as I can :-)
and let it all come in.

Maybe when you 'push it down' to keep it out of consciousness
it gets stuck?
or, it fights with the energy that is 'good' and that is trying to
help you grow and be?

Maybe they are the same system. So, it can either flow WITH you, or AGAINST you. It would be like expecting a river to flow two directions simultaneously.

***
Maybe when I can no longer move forward on a particular thing, I need to learn to switch away more quickly to something else so that I don't experience frustration.

When I am faced by something that is too big for me to handle alone, my tendency is to want to curl up and hide.

This is because my parents never helped me with things.

So I would get overwhelmed, and feel ashamed and frightened that I couldn't handle something (too big for me) on my own.

So in addition to the pain and fear, and not being able to do the thing, I became ashamed and angry as well. At my inability, my powerlessness. How STUCK I became. I was painted into a corner by them, with NO WAY OUT. I was STUCK, so stuck, and NEEDED help.

But they would laugh at me, and ignore me, and make fun of me, and eventually I would just numb out so that I couldn't feel anything at all. I remember times where I had completely shut off the feeling in my body (when I was sick and had been lying around in bed for a while with nobody checking on me, even though there were people home) and I felt like my body was dead, with my brain trapped inside. It was so heavy, like lead weights. And I couldn't FEEL anything. That's when I had the dreams about the people in glass, aquarium-like cases who just floated there, not dead, but totally unmoving, not responding to the outside world in any way.

I think it is good that even my subconscious knew it was THEM that was the problem, not me. THEY were the ones who were unfeeling and unkind, unthinking, unknowing, unresponsive and DEAD. Dead to the life and love in me, dead to my needs and feelings.

But I resisted them, and did NOT let them kill me too with their fears and whatever it was that made them that way in the first place. I would NOT let myself become like them. I would never give up; I would RESIST.

I feel as if I have spent my whole life looking for ANTIDOTE to this emotional poison: In books and movies, stories, mainly. Because there people tell what they REALLY want, instead of pretending that everything is ok just the way it is. And paintings, too. The truth comes out, leaks out the sides, in full view but still 'secret'. That is why 'art' is so powerful: It is the way the voiceless speak.

all that said (referring to previous post)

I do think that there's some relationship between all this and hyper-awareness as a defense. But I'm less concerned with an analytical untangling of same (though I still sometimes enjoy doing that) these days, and more inclined to simply notice the ways in which my BODY is telling me that something's out of whack or unbalanced. Shortest distance kind of a thing, I'd say - the analytical route is what you have to use when your connection to your body's mind has been nearly severed; when you're more connected to your body's direct messages, you don't NEED the analysis. I *think* :-)

***
In a world where men expect us to be what THEY need us to be (to support their continued domination) instead of what WE need to be (to not be DOMINATED), it's not surprising that the brain has to do some creative re-wiring in order to FUNCTION. Reminds me of the saying that Ginger Rogers could do everything Fred Astaire could, except she had to do it, "in high heels and backwards."

HAH! No WONDER we're smarter than they are - we HAVE to be to survive the FUCKED UP WORLD men have created.

brain dominance.

A 'friend' (?) accused me yesterday of being too 'left-brained'.

"You think too much," he said. How many times have I been accused of THAT in my life??? And ONLY by men. I'm trying to think if a woman has ever accused me of this. Nope, pretty sure not.

So: It's a POWER and CONTROL issue.

Women who are left brain dominant are NOT AS EASY TO CONTROL in a left-brain dominated world.

They're drawn to me; and simultaneously repelled. They LOVE that I actually UNDERSTAND their 'male' world better than their wives/girlfriends/mothers/sisters.

And yet, at the same time, they expect me to GIVE UP that power so that THEY won't be threatened by me. Because, don't you know, that's a woman's PRIME job in this BOY'S CLUB of a world: To NEVER make a man feel INFERIOR to you. Not even by simply EXISTING as a MORE INTELLIGENT HUMAN THAN HE IS. (I'm trying to think of men who don't fit this pattern, who seem to be OK with me being smarter than them, or who even (gasp!) APPRECIATE it. There are two who were absolutely open about it, and they were both Canadian. Hm. Statistically insignificant, but I have more than once wondered if I ought to be looking for my 'partner' north of the border?)

Makes me think of my father (again). And why I would be drawn to this current 'friend' just now.

***
I'm just reading about eye/brain dominance, and am being told by my friend Google that I'm 'mixed dominance' (right-handed, left eye dominant), which 'could be a problem'.

Now, I PERSONALLY think it just means that I'm BLOODY FUCKING BRILLIANT, and that my BRILLIANT brain has come up with this MASTERFUL solution for ME, personally, to survive in this fucked up, mixed-message, double-standard world that women in a boy's club have to deal with.

So I'm trying to think how this works: If I'm right-handed, that does *indeed* suggest left-brain dominance.

But - most of the 'brain dominance' tests I've taken come up with me being right-brain dominant.

So did I develop the left brain as a defense against my father's cruelty, and against CRUEL, SADISTIC men in general.

The answer to that would be: A resounding YES.

One such male once said to me something to the effect that I was, "Hip to his trip," which was why he couldn't (wouldn't?) hang with me. He couldn't "pull anything over on me."

Well, I just have to keep looking for a man (and WOMEN friends, as well) who actually WANT an equal partner. Unfortunately, the ones still standing at this late stage in life (like an emotional version of musical chairs) are generally the LOSERS. Which means they want to WIN if they try again. Or else, they're so CLUELESS about what's going on with them that they're like giant babies - they just want you to TAKE CARE OF THEM. Gah.

***
Interesting link on handedness and dominance of various body parts:
http://pages.prodigy.net/unohu/dominance.htm

An excerpt from this page about *nostril* unilaterality (!):

"Relative nostril efficiency (nasal cycle) is related to hemispheric EEG differences and performance on cognitive tasks. We investigated how unilateral forced nostril breathing influences spatial and verbal performance. Right-handed males and females performed both tasks under either left-nostril, right-nostril, or free-breathing conditions. Unilateral breathing affects performance differently in males and females. It influences male performance ipsilaterally on both tasks: Their spatial performance is better during right-nostril breathing, and their verbal performance is better during left-nostril breathing. Unilateral breathing influences female performance contralaterally, but only on the spatial task: Their spatial performance is better during left-nostril breathing. These differences within and between sexes may exist because unilateral nostril breathing differentially activates the two hemispheres and thereby facilitates performance, or because attempts of the brain to control the nasal cycle unilaterally interfere with performance."

Also, this on a possible developmental 'cause' (?) of mixed dominance:

Things to Avoid
Problems with Dominance
Developmental Causes

"We are finding that the too early and too complicated activities which are demanded from the senses today cause many children who are right-handed to use their left eye when looking at objects rather than their right eye. This is termed a cross dominance between the eye and hand, displacing the normal laterality of the body.Then, too, there are the growing numbers of children who use the left hand while retaining the dominance of the right eye."

I'm not at all convinced that this is a 'problem', especially when I came across the notion that women (at least among sharpshooters, whose issues with eye dominance came up most frequently in my google searches) are quite often cross-dominant.

I suspect that women (and perhaps ALL people who develop cross-dominance?) develop cross-dominance as a way to cope with the MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE (that is, cognitive dissonance-inducing) EXPECTATIONS and DEMANDS of being a woman in a man's world.

That is, if your behavior is continually being trained to go against your actual NATURE, and when you are being held to TWO OPPOSITE STANDARDS simultaneously (that is, being CRITICISED for being 'overly emotional' at the very same time that you are EXPECTED to eschew such 'unpleasant' emotions as anger (hm, the primary emotion of POWER and DOMINANCE - funny, that, eh? NOT.)

So, I expect that women born into a left-brain-dominated world and trained by a left-brain-dominated system (namely, any traditional public school system), find themselves at odds with the SIMULTANEOUS expectation by their culture that they CHOOSE between a) female and b) male ways of behaving.

The problem is that these definitions are almost entirely artificial, power-based constructs used to create hierarchies of SOCIAL DOMINANCE. And women KNOW this, at some level, whether they ever CONSCIOUSLY recognize it or not.

So they compensate (unconscsiously) by being MOSTLY left-brain, but the left eye gives away the fact that they've had to sacrifice MASSIVE quantities of - but wait a minute. Men may be more 'efficient' at a single-focused task because they are able to COMPLETELY IGNORE all other external input.

But is this a GOOD thing? I can imagine MANY situations in which a man's 'ability' to block out 'unwanted' or 'distracting' input to be to his severe DETRIMENT, up to and including DEATH.

***
A quote that I like (bolds mine):

The whole field of left-right specialisation has been received some very vocal criticism.

"Brain scientists will tell you that the idea of a rigid divide is a popular myth. They even have a word for the public's enthusiasm for the subject: 'dichotomania'. Like 'modern phrenology' the word is a put-down, intended to imply that the real situation is far too complex for simple conclusions to be drawn."

***
From another site, http://www.giftedchildren.org.nz/forum/read.php?f=8&i=751&t=129, a reader comment that I REALLY LIKE and that makes sense to me:

I wouldn't be concerned over mixed dominance or crossed dominance - that's just the way you're wired and as far as I know there is little you can do about and no need to anyway.

I'm an optometrist who also happens to be cross dominant.

You are correct in thinking that it is usual for the eye and hand to match in dominance.
Typically I find the children who are cross dominant have often skipped a step in the developmental sequence of creeping-crawling-walking when I understand that dominance and laterality are developed. As an example I never crawled, I shuffled round on my bottom and then walked.

A high proportion of the children that we test with learning difficulties do seem to be cross dominant BUT being cross dominant doesn't mean you have learning difficulties.

Learning was never an issue for me but I have rotten hand-eye coordination and as a consequence I'm useless at sport. I never understood why until I learnt about dominance at university. However, again there seem to be no hard and fast rules about how this affects people. I have met cross-dominant kids who are very good at sport.

Earlier in this thread is a reference to children being patched to correct dominance. This is incorrect. Patching is used to help the development of vision in an eye that has for some reason been deprived of visual stimulus. It is intended to improve vision not change dominance. It should never be done without the supervision of an eyecare professional.

I've not come across anyone in the industry that attempts to change eye dominance or any evidence to suggest that you should. Knowing that you have mixed dominance can help you better understand the way you function though.

And another (long) comment that I like, from the same site:

"I was concerned because my right-handed, left-eyed child is a great artist and almost visually gifted. I believe those gifts come from the right side of the brain and I suppose his left eye helps him access it. However, it may also cause his slow processing."

Processing Speed is based on specific tasks being timed - tasks that tend to disadvantage Visual Spatial individuals .... and as I understand it, the calculation is quite heavily weighted when it comes to calculating the over all score.

What it CANNOT possibly do is actually measure any given individuals processing speed - in order to do that it would have to take into account what information (or volume of information) any individual brain is "working with" at any given point in time - these timed tests do not do that - they simply measure the time it takes to get to what point on a specific task - not the information the brain is working with to do that.

That is all well and dandy for someone who only retains information for a short time in order to actively work on a task but the results for those who accumulate information over long periods of time and need to "sift" through it .... nor will it produce an accurate result for those who need to "translate information" into an "internal code" and back again.

Contrary to the popular notion of "left/right brain" - I am convinced that Spatial processing is "centred" at the BACK of the brain and the brain is actually wired for both left and right to work together far more "holistically" than the "normal" brain .... creative logic and logical creativity - both and neither.

As the brain "warms up" - it does so from the back forward on both sides of the brain ... with the front of the brain taking the longest to become "fully active". It would interest me greatly to learn the difference between dominance in the "normal" population and dominance in the spatial ... I would expect both lack of established dominance and stronger mixed dominance to be more common amongst the spatial for physiological reasons.

Of course, I am, once again - basing this on a "model" of the "spatial brain" that is effectively a product of my own imagination - without any other "scientific evidence" to back me up on this .... but it would make logical sense and explain a great deal.

Assuming my original theory holds correct (VS and GT both resulting from a significant deviation from the norm with regard to development of the central nervous system) then it also stands to reason that along with the more obvious neurological and cognitive differences - the fundamental "mechanics" would likely be different also.

Perhaps the fact that, at 40 years old, I still have no natural sense of "left/right" influences my imagination somewhat - but even so, that would make logical sense - if my brain is not "divided" in accordance with "left" or "right" hemispheres as conventional belief dictates (which seems to be more an interpretation of how it APPEARS than anything else) - then one pretty natural outcome of that would be to have difficulty learning left from right. Its not a "general directional issue" - forwards and backwards, up and down are not affected in the same way.

Maybe - just maybe there is a hell of a lot more to the saying "eyes in the back of the head" than most people realise .... I am inclined to believe there is.

***
Another link that, with selective reading, yields some interesting ideas (especially like the READER COMMENTS) :
http://www.singsurf.org/brain/rightbrain.php
***
And yet ANOTHER interesting comment from the comment thread of singsurf:

I believe your all missing out on some key factors, that will help all who want it. The majority of comments are only in reference to mostly Mental assertiveness. How about the Physical side, while being in this out of balance state lets take the majority of our population (Left brain) 99.99% of all left brain dominate people are weak on there right side, simple muscle testing will prove this. So with this imbalance, how would the Right side of our body measure up. If we were to measure the leg length of both side, would we not be shorter on our right side. Now If non-relieved stress is the enviormental problem, and that most people are stuck in Flight or Flight stress response that inhibits the body's own ability to heal within. This ongoing, and unrelieved stress is what disease, and most disorders stem from. To rub more salt in this open wound, we give doctors the license to prescribe symptom relief while the core issue is slowly degenerating our life's energy. I have been involved for 2 years with a process called ALPHABIOTICS. This simple technique balances the body with a pattern interrupt (like rebooting a computer) instantly stronger on both sides and my stress has minimized greatly. Since doing this, my personal health has greatly improved and many changes have occurred to my overall benefit.

The Alphabioitics site the commenter refers to is here:
http://alphabioticsinternational.com/WordStress.aspx

As always, TAKE WHAT YOU NEED AND LEAVE THE REST! The info about stress on the linked page is pretty common-sensical (at least to *me*), but the author is another somebody trying to package and market basic common sense as some kind of high'n'mighty voodoo. Capitalism, blech. Snake oil everywhere you look.

A quackwatch-ish site (The Iron Skeptic) that has an article on Alphabiotics, http://www.theironskeptic.com/articles/alphabiotics/alphabiotics.htm, and a quote therefrom (bolds mine):

The Alphabiotics website is chock full of information, unfortunately, none of it states precisely what Alphabiotics are. They go on and on and on about the benefits, though: from Alphabiotic sessions one can expect to feel better, think better, achieve inner peace, have a tighter connection to their inner source of power, and take advantage of the body’s natural capacity for wellness. Sounds good! I could use all of those things. Except the tightening of my inner power source. That sounds unpleasant.

But how exactly do Alphabioticists achieve these results? Well, on their website they’re clear to state several dozen times that Alphabiotics are not a “treatment” and cannot be used as medicine: they’re a way of life. A way of life that apparently requires “…a gentle, though unique, movement of the head [that] is accomplished in less than fifteen seconds” whilst one sits on the “Alphabiotic couch.”

Ok, random inspiration particle (thanks, T. Pratchett) lodges in my cranium:
What if the 'imbalance' occurs at birth, or possibly from spinal trauma *during* birth, while infant is caught in birth canal?

I was 36 hours being born - my image is both that mom's body showed she didn't really want me - her muscles fought my birth - and I, at the same time, was in a 'climber's' pose, braced in a chimney-style death-grip to keep from being born into such a hostile environment.

So the random thought: What if, by being sort of 're-born' by somebody who somehow 'gets' and/or intuits the scars from your 'birth trauma', is able to help you be 're-born' in such a way that all this is healed? Or, at least your body has an opportunity to FEEL what a non-traumatized state is like. Then of course you have to understand all the OTHER ways in which OTHER behaviors/events/life things EXACERBATE the 'problem'.

Your FEELINGS do not HURT other people.

It is not necessary to protect other people from your FEELINGS.
Your feelings are NOT 'bad' or 'wrong'.

There are, almost certainly, more and less EFFECTIVE ways to EXPRESS what you're feeling, in order to get your NEEDS met.

The fact that
THEY DON’T WANT TO LISTEN TO or HEAR
what you want to say
doesn’t mean that
WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY is WRONG or BAD.

***
So, here's where the anger comes in: You feel SILENCED by people who try to shut you down. You experience BEING SILENCED as being expected to hide, or otherwise NEGATE an essential part of YOU. You don't want to have to be SILENT about what you feel, think or need any more than you want to CUT OFF AN ARM OR LEG.

The ANGER tells you that a BOUNDARY HAS BEEN VIOLATED.

The way to USE the anger is to INSIST that people RESPECT and LISTEN TO your needs and feelings.

People who DO NOT RESPECT YOUR NEEDS AND FEELINGS are NOT friends, and they do NOT love or care about you, REGARDLESS of what they may say to the contrary. Because they're busy protecting their SELF IMAGE, not their relationship with YOU.

be not a mindless cog

"A progressive is just a pig with lipstick."

staying the course

I think ‘therapists’ often become yet another substitute for intimacy, rather than a stepping stone. I think the MOST a GOOD therapist really has to offer is a sympathetic ear. Which is something ANY person could offer, if only we were all taught how to do this. The idea that we should pay some random stranger an exorbitant fee to be sat in a chair and treated like small children AGAIN is too much for me to stomach. The power imbalance inherent in the relationship may actually be the most damaging and destructive part of it, I think.

I must armor myself against this person. He’s very insidious, very persuasive. He reminds me of – someplace I really don’t want to go, ever again. Snakes slithering, that sort of thing. Actually feel my skin crawling. He’s not ‘the devil’, just someone I would have a hard time resisting because he’s an expert GASLIGHTER. Which is something EVERY SINGLE PERSON in my family has pulled on me at some point, knowingly or unknowingly.

Grasshopper, you CAN choose to simply not see him. Your spidey sense is tingling – don’t let him GUILT you into this. That’s what the word ‘arrogant’ did – he’s an expert manipulator, a CLASSIC narcissist.

And despite your empathy for the pain all such people suffer, you must NOT sacrifice yourself for him, or any other like him.

You must keep looking for what YOU need.

He is too wily an opponent for you – your little sword is still tiny, and, while very sharp, not effective against such monsters as these.

You must simply walk away.

Men like this simply derail your life. And not in a good way – they’re the emotionally equivalent of a football tackle, who tries to knock your feet out from under you and keep you off balance. The tricky part is that they do it with WORDS instead of actions, so it’s a bit harder to catch them at it.

And I don’t want to have to WORK that hard. In fact, I don’t HAVE to.

I choose the EASY path.

the language of love

I feel like, growing up, I didn’t *learn* the language of love – I learned the language of DESTRUCTION.

Of search and destroy; of maim and batter; of belittle and demean. Of how to make the other guy feel like shit about himself in one easy lesson, with a glance or a backhander or an underhanded dig. (sports refs.)

Sarcasm; bullying. ‘Teasing’, so-called, that drew blood, and left a scarred and emotionally crippled victim in its wake, while the perpetrator laughed his way to the bank. Literally. People who THRIVED, who GREW and FED on your pain and suffering, your misery, your fear. You needed SO BADLY to have someone to trust...

It just occurred to me, that *I* was, for many years, in fact for most of my life, the ONLY ONE in that family who could be trusted to not do something dirty, or mean, or cruel, or vicious, or backstabbing.

And rather than fucking APPRECIATING me for my kindness, consideration, empathy and caring, they fucking MOCKED me. They saw it as a WEAKNESS, as something to be pitied and treated with CONTEMPT.

Wow. I can’t believe I never saw that before. I mean, I think I’ve *seen* it, but never quite from that particular angle.

***
my father spurned my love, scorned it, until he was in such a strait (on his deathbed, literally) that he finally reached out to me, knowing, somehow, that I was the only person in the family who could help him.

But by this time it was too late – the damage was done, I was so deeply, passionately ANGRY with him for what an ASSHOLE he’d been to me my whole life that I couldn’t give him a thing. It was all I could do to speak to him with a civil tongue, though I knew he was hurting, physically, suffering. He was so CRUEL. So VICIOUS. So incredibly, painfully, unkind. If he’d been a stupid man, maybe I could have forgiven him. But he knew perfectly well the damage he was doing - he was doing the emotional equivalent of pulling wings off flies.

practicing centeredness

I think I saw that guy I've been talking about at the restaurant last night. I was sitting on the side of the bar, and there was a really pretty girl sitting on the far side of the central well. I was looking at her, wondering what she had to do to make her hair look so nice, and glanced over at a guy sitting next to her. At first I didn't really notice him, I was more thinking about how easy guys have it, and how little they have to do to be considered 'nice looking'.  I was sort of comparing her hair and his hair, wondering if he had any idea how much work she probably has to do to look like that, and suddenly I noticed, "hey, isn't that motorcycle boy?"

I instantly felt extremely self-conscious - I hadn't showered in days, and had just been for a really long walk and was still wearing my slightly grungy old shorts and my rattiest pair of tennis shoes.  My hair was still somehow looking halfway decent, but I was afraid to expose the bottom half of me, being so fashion-impaired in that highly fashion-conscious place.

In fact, this particular place is PARTICULARLY annoying, because the women who work there, and the women patrons, all (or most) seem to practice that hyper-affectedly 'casual' look that is so NOT casual at ALL.

The amount of time and energy you have to spend to get that perfectly 'effortless' look is PHENOMENAL.  And it may be fairly straightforward once you work out a routine, but there is no possible WAY that the women can look THAT MUCH BETTER than their male counterparts in the same age range without a SIGNIFICANT amount of effort.

After that, needless to say, I dashed home and changed into my jeans and black shoes, which, though ratty and old and dirty too, have it ALL over my previous attire for style points.  (Yikes, I can't even believe I'm saying or thinking all this.  The harsh reality of 'feminism' in this here so-called modern, 'progressive' [yeah, *right*] world.)

So then I went out again to do some quick grocery shopping at Freddie's, and found myself getting a *lot* of attention.

What is it?  What's the formula?  It seems like on the days I don't give a shit, *that's* when I get the most attention - or, I should say, positive attention (and sometimes unwanted attention) from men, and negative attention from women who seem to be irritated that I am 'successful' at attracting male attention (yargh) in spite of my obviously minimal efforts. (And then there are the women who *aren't* bothered, thank god. Because otherwise the world just becomes too crazy to bear. You feel like you're competing with absolutely EVERYBODY in some way or other, and it's exhausting.)

There was one guy (I must be really ready to fall in love again :-) who I saw as I was passing the aisle he was standing in, I kind of glanced over as I was passing by with my cart, and he looked at me, this kind of inquiring look?  And I smiled, not expecting to see anybody there, especially not this really good-looking young guy looking straight at me.

After my experience with motorcycle boy, I was feeling a little shy, not wanting to be led down the garden path again.  I mean, I realize there are men who are attracted to older women, and I'm definitely (as the last few weeks show) occasionally attracted to significantly younger men.

But I was nervous about it last night - when I got to the checkout place, I was almost done and I glanced around and saw red-shirt boy right behind me, and he again looked at me, again, questioningly.  He looked at me several times, and it was all I could do not to wiggle in glee!  Why do I feel like I'm still in high school?  It feels almost as if this few years of non-involvement with men has given me a new lease on life, almost as if I've hit the reset button and gone back in time (knock on wood!) and am getting a 'second chance' to do things 'right' (for a given definition of 'right', namely, *my* definition :-).

In fact, when I went to the clinic the other day (thought I'd gotten a piece of Cracker Jack in my lung, which was a whole 'NOTHER story which I may tell at some point - major panic, walked to the fire station at roughly 11 pm-ish, called 911 about two hours later with weakness, numbness, and generally just not sure I was getting enough oxygen.)

Short version, I went to the walk-in cheap clinic the next day to see if I could get an x-ray (which I did, the doctor was very helpful and sympathetic), and the boy who did my 'check in', taking my blood pressure and all that, said something about my blood pressure being pretty good for someone my size.

I said, "What do you mean?"

He said, "Well, you know, you're kind of petite?  Like a teenager?"

This kid had to be just barely 20 or so, so it was interesting to have him make this comment.  He seemed nervous, so I tried to put him at ease by asking him how long he'd been doing this work.  "Five months," he said proudly.  He was a cute kid, and obviously trying really hard to do his job right.  I also wondered if *I* made him nervous, the skinny white lady who 'looks like a teenager' - he was black, so maybe there are some stereotypes from the other side?  I'm sure there must be, I just don't know what they are.

And also, the population served by that clinic is mostly latino, with a few asians

Can I help it if my life didn't go in the same order/sequence as everybody else's? No.

***
Oh, and that's not even the weirdest part of the evening: I stopped at the 7-11 to get ice on the way home, and on my way out I shoved the door open really hard with my foot because I had my hands full, and, I admit, because I just like doing it - it makes me feel powerful. Because I CAN :-)

Anyway, there was this fat guy coming toward me on the sidewalk when I did it, and he got kind of a surprised look, like he was trying to figure out if I was being aggressive?  But I just ignored him, I actually didn't see him til after I'd already opened the door.

And then there was this other car that had either just pulled up or was parking when I got out the door, and I had the impression of someone looking at me.

I walked to my car at the other end of the parking lot, and as I turned to unlock the door, there was this (dare I say it?  Gorgeous?) transvestite guy getting out of his car and he looked RIGHT AT ME. Several times, even looking at me over his shoulder as he was walking into the store. By this time I was in my car and feeling so giddy from the weird encounters that I kind of shuddered and let out a yell through the sun roof. I'm sure the guys getting gas were wondering what the heck *that* was all about. Consider it a wolf howl, guys :-) (The transvestite was wearing a blonde wig and knee-high boots, and a fairly conservative outfit, sort of like some version of a 60s, stereotyped secretary?  Not sure how to describe it, never seen one quite like that before.  And I also just watch Kinky Boots again recently, so that was fresh in my mind, too. I *love* the black guy who plays the lead in that movie, he is absolutely GORGEOUS.)

I think I must still be finding things out about who I am, based on things *other* people seem to see in me that I can't (yet?) see in myself. It's like I supressed those things for a long time, and now they're beginning to feel safe to come out and play (wicked grin :-) 

I'm also noticing there seems to be some kind of trend going on here with meeting people in parking lots, of all places. Three times in a month? After very little action in quite a long time? *I* think that counts as a 'trend'. :-)

finding my center

Noticing when I feel 'off balance' after interacting with someone.

Looking for people around whom I feel safe, secure, solid.  Where trust feels APPROPRIATE.  Where I can move from a place of feeling poised and ready for ACTION :-)

more motorcycle boy

Just got an email from motorcycle boy, or someone who *claims* to be motorcycle boy. At this point my bullshit meter is totally pegged in the red zone, and I won't trust ANYTHING this guy says until I've actually confirmed it with my own two eyes.

The thing is, I don't usually think of myself as gullible, or a sucker. Overly trusting, yes; that seems to be my nature. I've *tried* being more suspicious, and it just feels like wearing a badly-fitting, very silly-looking, overcoat, like something one of those goofball detectives in a B movie might wear. Or maybe Peter Falk in that old TV show Columbo.

So I spent yet another hour with google, trying to find an address for the name in the 'from' line of the email. Which of course is NOT the same as the name motorcycle boy gave me.

Sigh. Why on EARTH would anybody contort themselves so much, convolute everything? It's like some kind of - maze, trying to figure out what's real and what's not. Maybe it's yet another kind of smoke screen, squid ink? Self-protection, keeping the other person out until you feel safe. But by the time you've actually gotten to KNOW this other person, you've already woven such a tangled web of lies that there's no HOPE of ever sorting it out or the other person trusting you again. I just don't get it.

***
I know it's ridiculous for me to still be putting energy and time into this, but it's just BUGGING me. I was trying to think of an explanation for why it mattered, and the best I could come up with is that it's like a picture on your wall that's hanging crooked - it just DRIVES YOU NUTS. You want to FIX it, to make it right.

And I'm sure if I had more going on right now it wouldn't occupy so much time - what's that saying about tasks expanding to fill the time available? I had actually forgotten about it, and now it's all stirred up again.

Sigh. I guess this demon needs a little more feeding. I wrote down an address that looks the closest to fitting all the 'clues' he gave me when we were talking. I guess I'll go take a look. Maybe :-)

***
One moment sticks in my mind from our walk, maybe I described it already.

We were walking across a long, concrete suspension bridge over the river, and about halfway, I stopped to look out, because it was so beautiful. I also wanted to see if he could hang with me in such a moment, without getting impatient or trying to touch me before I was ready.

I knew he wanted to touch me – he kept kind of leaning toward me, then veering away when I didn’t immediately respond (and THAT is attractive – that level of awareness and responsiveness). He had that kind of – LOOK that some guys get when they want to touch you but haven’t quite worked up the nerve. And he wasn’t sure whether it was ok. Thank GOD for someone, FINALLY, who actually can read my frickin’ BODY LANGUAGE, for fuck’s sake.

As we were standing there, I said something about wondering if we would get a moment of absolute silence (the planes from the flight path were pretty much constant) if we stood there for a moment. After a few seconds I started to worry that he was getting impatient, and said, “Looks like maybe not.”

And he said, leaning forward onto the railing in a way that I swear was CALCULATED to make me want to touch him, “Let’s just wait for a bit.” Swoon :-)

These are a few of my favorite things (channeling Sound of Music): Responsiveness. Sensitivity. Awareness. Maybe they’re all part and parcel of the same thing, a certain kind of ability to read another person’s signals.

The thing was, I never really wanted to kiss him. I enjoyed the snuggling; and I felt immediate liking, fondness and affection for him; but I never really found myself getting stirred up. The only times I found myself really moved were when he SAID something that got all my bells ringing :-), which he did several times. And also when something about his body movement reminded me of a broken bird.

Come to think of it, there was an odd contrast between the way he moved and the way he talked. His voice was quite deep and warm and confident, very furry and soothing. At one point I had my head on his chest and it was all I could do to pay attention to the actual words because the sound of his voice was lulling me into such deep relaxation.

But his movements seemed, somehow – protective? Not sure. As if he’d been hurt or something. And I did ask him at one point if he was limping (while we were still on the walk), and he said he was missing a toe. I took a wild guess and asked if it was his left foot, and he said it was.

So I felt protective of him at times, and comforted by him at others. Maybe that’s why I keep thinking of him: He has something I need, and I have something *he* seemed to need. Beyond sex, that is. Which I still contend is a WANT, not a need. And is quite often a displacement technique, a way of escaping uncomfortable feelings.



Random thought bubbling out of the welter of images and ideas:
My body is not a medium of exchange.

the root of it?

Feeling like I'm down to the root of things, that feeling of exhaustion, almost paralysis, from having no one to notice that you're struggling and frickin' HELP you, for fuck's sake.

It's not POSSIBLE to 're-parent' yourself. Yet another bullshit concept brought to us by the prime purveyors of Brave-New-World doublespeak: The shrinkological patrol. All they are is another police force to enforce our conformity.

I can't BE my own mother and father, though Flying Spaghetti Monster *knows* I've tried.

If someone ever brings up the notion of 're-parenting yourself' again, I'll ask them if they've ever tried to HUG themselves, and just exactly how satisfying THAT little exercise in futility was. In the same category as 'pulling yourself up by your bootstraps,' I'd say.

expectations

Just listened to a story on NPR by a couple of journalists who taped conversations with some Wall Street guys shortly after the most recent financial bailout.

They asked the guys if they were grateful for the bailout, if they appreciated being helped by American taxpayers.

The men, who sounded pretty young, to a man insisted that their current 'success' and the fact that they still had jobs was because "I'm smart. Survival of the fittest."

The journalists kept trying to get these guys to admit that the bailout had saved their bacon - that, without it, their banks would have gone under and they would have lost their jobs.

"No way, man," they said. "That had nothing to do with it."

Just how delusional ARE these people???

The journalists went on to talk about being in Haiti, and speaking to both some of the very rich and very poor who'd been affected by economic difficulties.

They pointed out that the rich folks seemed to be FAR more vocal in complaining about their woes - they went on and on about how unfair it was. The poor folks, on the other hand (and one of the journalists pointed out that poor Haitians are among the poorest people in the world), seemed less vociferous, more accepting of their lot.

The journalists speculated as to why there was such a disparity in response between the poor and the rich. One suggested that it might be simply a difference in expectation: The rich EXPECTED far more than the poor did, so they felt more let down. I guess if you don't expect much, you don't feel so disappointed when things don't go your way.

***
The thing that's speaking to ME here about all this is this idea that you have some CONTROL over your own expectations.

Which, to me, is BULLSHIT.

You have no more control over your expectations than you do over your emotions.

Expectations, like emotions, just HAPPEN. They're like the weather - they come and go, and they're based on environmental CONDITIONS. They are NOT something under your control. You can control, to some degree, how you REACT to said emotions (or expectations), in that you can steer your behavior. But you can't change how it makes you FEEL. The feelings just HAPPEN, and then you react, either with an action or a thought.

Expectations come from experience. Like the whole celebrity phenomenon. If you grow up being a nobody, and then, through some freak series of events - chance, luck, being in the right place at the right time (which are pretty much all different ways of saying the same thing) - you are flung up into the spotlight, into the bright glare of fame and fortune, and then you FALL again, from that lofty post - Well. You're going to be hurt. You're going to feel let down, disappointed, betrayed. And people in such a situation ALWAYS become angry, or at least resentful. The way they EXPRESS said anger may vary - some may turn it inward and become depressed, and drink their way through it to numb the pain; others may become destructive, and turn their anger outward onto others, into angry rantings or even physical violence. And all the shades in between.

I must shed my family

The way a snake sheds its skin
Like a rocket ship, its first stage dropping away behind it

I had some fabulous image earlier today of - something crumbling? Falling to dust? that was perfect. Can't recall it now.

Maybe all the bad patterns can drop away too, now?

***
Keep thinking of little brother and betrayal, the Lucy/Charlie Brown/football thing. What do I feed THAT demon to satiate it?

First, define the demon.

I must not ask for help.
Why?
Because if I ask for help, they'll promise to help me, and the - NOT help me.

So I'll feel let down, sad, lonely.

AND, most of all, worst of all: Eventually (and it doesn't actually take long to get to this point) I begin to feel that I don't DESERVE help.

That I am intrinsically, inherently, BAD, WRONG, NO GOOD.

It's amazing how many flavors, how many variants of this particular poison there are. Like a giant candy shop, only every sugary treat is designed to KILL you.

An image comes to mind of a giant Halloween party, I'm in a new town, no friends yet, sitting alone in my costume. The eternal feeling of yawning, gaping, open-a-hole-in-the-floor-to-swallow-me-up-so-I-don't-feel-so-EXPOSED, achingly PAINFUL loneliness. I imagine every face that comes floating near me as TAUNTING me, aware of my loneliness and pain and MOCKING me for it.

This is my mother.
My father.
My middle brother.

My youngest brother didn't do it only because I was eight years older than he was.

Why did *I* get to be the scapegoat, the punching bag, the NOBODY, the UNIMPORTANT one?

This comes back to the previous post, where what I was leading up to was the idea of sibling rivalry, and my middle brother needs to CONQUER me, to DEFEAT me.

He saw me, at some point, as his ENEMY, who must be VANQUISHED.

He didn't win, but he did succeed in driving me into hiding.

Flash: Just like my mother! This is EXACTLY what mom would do when confronted with bad behavior: She'd CHECK OUT! Leave the scene, disappear, mentally and emotionally at least, and physically as well, if possible. No WONDER she's in hardly any of my early childhood memories: She WASN'T THERE.

***
I am cold; I am tired. I am hungry. I am physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually DRAINED and EXHAUSTED.

It seems to never stop, to go on and on and on, this race against time and the giant sucking sound of my precious resources - money, time, life - draining away.

I cannot seem to rest, my EYEBALLS hurt from looking at this computer screen. My throat burns from the words I cannot speak for lack of anyone to LISTEN to or HEAR them.

I am trying to PURGE all this shit out of my system before it KILLS me, before it SUCKS ME DRY. Like some cross between a giant spiritual BOIL and a PARASITE.

oldest child usurped by middle child?

Still trying to unlock the self-hatred puzzle - where does the demon come from? Maybe if I can understand how it got there, I can eventually get rid of it.

Today I fed the demon by yanking on that eyebrow hair until I think the whole middle of my left eyebrow must be bald.

Each time it grows back, but, man, some days it's WEIRD looking. Some days it looks perfectly smooth, healthy, happy, more or less the same as the right eyebrow. Then other days it looks just GNARLY - half the hair sticking straight OUT, and some pointing straight DOWN.  Just bizarre, like old man eyebrows. It seems to just KNOW what I'm feeling, like some kind of antennae, or a radar. Or maybe 'indicator' is what I mean. A pointer, that shows me when my energies are run the 'wrong' way, as in, not congruent with where I need them to go. Or something. Analogies and metaphors SNAP from the stress of being STRETCHED so hard.

***
It occurred to me that the 'self-picking-on' behaviors come from being picked on. I mean, kids don't NATURALLY pick on themselves, right? They learned it from somewhere. They sure as hell weren't BORN that way.

So, working backwards: What causes the eyebrow picking, or any of the other 'picking on' behaviors?

Well, bad thoughts. Specifically, thoughts that *I* am bad.

When there's something I need to do, such as getting more money to pay bills, and I have no money, and I have insufficient work to procure MORE money, then I get in this vicious, self-hating cycle that's hard to get out of.

What's wrong with me
Why won't I look for a job
I've DESPISED every job I've ever had, except music

(hm, I think maybe I've never stated, or understood, that so baldly before. Interesting. Keep going.)

Jobs are STUPID. They're BORING and people make you FEEL BAD ABOUT YOURSELF for not wanting to do their STUPID BORING THINGS that you COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT and THEY DON'T PAY YOU ENOUGH TO MAKE IT WORTH IT ANYWAY.

I think that last bit needs to be A BIT LOUDER:

THEY DON'T PAY YOU ENOUGH TO MAKE IT WORTH IT ANYWAY.

When people ask me why I quit architecture? That there, the line just above this? THAT's the reason. The real reason, the true reason, the honest reason.

I know people, mostly men, who cry big crocodile tears about how sorely used they feel, nose to the grindstone, wah - but when all's said and done? They fucking got PAID for it, and paid well. THEIR deal with the devil? Actually paid off. They got some actual, physical, measurable, TANGIBLE return for that soul they sold.

Me? Not so much. I suffered, and struggled, and toiled, and beat my head against the wall, and pushed that damn boulder up the hill (and got flattened when it rolled back down again) over and over again. And for what? So that, at the age of 47, I could live in a tiny rented house where the utilities and other miscellaneous things necessary to survive 'modern' life (an internet connection, in this case, I count as a NECESSITY rather than a luxury, given how much it's been both lifeline and umbilical cord, not to mention my own person university-at-my-fingertips, lo these 10 or so years of my personal self-reconstruction-from-scratch.)

Am I looking for help? Yes. Constantly.

Do I get it?
Tiny scraps, crumbs, just enough to remind me, continually, how STARVING I am to have even my most basic human needs met.

Maslow? He got NOTHIN'. I mean, picture that pyramid being like a triangular spaceship hovering over my head, just out of reach. I ain't even reached THE BOTTOM LEVEL yet. (Just had a horrible thought: What if, like in a video game, I RUN OUT OF TIME before the screen flashes 'GAME OVER'? That's my biggest fear. Or one of them - if my adrenals aren't fried to little crispy bits from the generalized anxiety around here, it ain't fer lack of TRYin'.)

***
Just glanced at the title of this entry and realized I haven't got anywhere near that part of the story yet. Have to pin this much up on the 'wall' and have a look at it, see what else needs to be said.

cog(nitive) function?

('modern' American?) Men are taught from an early age to split off from their emotions in such a way that makes them extremely efficient cogs in the Machine Age.

It also makes having relationships with them nearly impossible.

Posit: A woman who can learn to (step outside herself?) and turn this particular function on and off at will will have doubled her arsenal (male term - have I joined the 'other' side! Agghh!)

But wait. I *haven't* joined the other side. Not yet. It seems to me, maybe, to be possible to learn to use the language(s?) and behavior(s) of power without being caught up in the drama?

Hm. Skeptical.

And: Is so-called 'ethics' yet another power-play by the Haves to keep the Have-nots down? A form of mind control?

zombie feminism

From commenter Kathy Miriam on Feral Scholar's blog, entry titled "In the case of Clueless vs. Clueless … (Sex & Aggression)":

"I love the idea of MacDonaldized feminism. I myself have been tinkering with the notion of botox-feminism involving a paralysis of the moral/intellectual muscle particularly with respect to one’s capacity to show outrage. [Bold mine.]"

http://www.feralscholar.org/blog/index.php/2007/11/09/in-the-case-of-clueless-vs-clueless-sex-aggression/

***
Word of the day: Redoubtable
re·doubt·a·ble/riˈdoutəbəl/
Adjective: (of a person) Formidable, esp. as an opponent: "a redoubtable debater".

more nothingness

http://zenhabits.net/the-art-of-doing-nothing/:

Doing nothing, in the true sense of the word, can be overwhelming if you attempt to do too much nothing at once. Do small nothings at first.

do nothing

Wu-wei. New term to me, though I think I actually already live by it to some degree - the 'moderation in all things, including moderation' idea.

We wei is also called 'the middle path'.

From A Love Guide - Learn the Wu-Wei of Improving Communication in Your Relationships
http://ezinearticles.com/?A-Love-Guide---Learn-the-Wu-Wei-of-Improving-Communication-in-Your-Relationships&id=2313796:

"If you feel any resistance or negativity during a conversation, instead of becoming negative or defensive you can choose to go with the flow. You can yield to the other person and change the direction of the conversation by allowing the negative energy of the other to pass you by without disturbing or even touching you. Think of it as verbal Tai Chi or Karate."

Your conditioned response to negativity may be that of either fight or flight. You might get defensive or aggressive. You might shut down and become passive, including giving in or doing what you don't want to do in order to avoid conflict conversations.

Both aggressive and passive responses are ineffective ways to communicate. They often leave you feeling alienated and at odds with the person who either fought with or fled.

Why is Wu-Wei a better choice?

The goal of Wu-Wei is to be assertive by telling others what you are feeling, what you want, need, or what you are requesting. Let it be known what is not acceptable; and do so in a way that is forceful enough but does not step over any of their boundaries.

You are respecting yourself and others when you assert yourself by dealing with the small stuff before it becomes large. You use Wu-Wei to avoid arguments and set firm boundaries against an onslaught of negativity. Then you have plenty of positive energy to live your life on your terms. And you will become a powerful listener, which is an act of love and a way to create healthy relationships."

dying of emotional hunger

This is insane. I'm a 47-year-old, intelligent, attractive, talented, 'interesting' person, sitting here alone at a computer feeling as if I'm about to literally starve to death because I CANNOT get my most basic human needs met.

I've reached out in all the ways I know how; I've schooled myself to not take 'rejections' personally. All I feel, right now, really, is HUNGER.

Yes, I could go get some food. I could, like last night, skip any pretense at physical appearance maintenance and simply throw clothes on, jump in the car and run down to the 'convenience' store, and get some semblance of 'food' to get me through the night and on to another day.

There are so many things lurking on the edges of vision that I must not look at. Physical hunger; emotional hunger. Money running out. Winter coming. Holidays coming. I can put them all off for a while longer; they aren't quite all 'up in my grill' yet.

It's not that I'm afraid of *asking* for help; it's the inevitable ANGER I'm faced with, the RESENTMENT at my temerity to ASK.

Clearly I'm asking the wrong people.

A while back, someone left a local news flier (small newspaper) on my windshield, folded open to a page on a community service ad for a weekly, free dinner ('open to all') at a church. I was mildly affronted, wondering if someone thought I was homeless? Then realized, maybe the universe *does* look out for us, in small ways.

So maybe I'll go there this week - the dinner happens on Tuesday nights.

when 'comfort food' no longer provides comfort

When you've gotten to the point where you know that practically EVERYTHING you're doing is a substitute for what you really need -

Then what?

I slept a long time today, knowing that I'd have to spend most of today's waking hours avoiding thinking. And so far I've managed it - I've kept the demons at bay by reading and writing, curled up here in front of my electronic umbilical cord.

There's this sort of constant, low-level physical hunger - I feel a bit like the prisoner or the terminal cancer patient who KNOWS she's going to die, and who chronicles her last moments with excruciating clarity. Like Emma Thompson's character in Wit.

***
A useful (?) concept occurs to me: In one of Terry Pratchett's stories, one of the witches, Granny Weatherwax, teaches one of her dying, elderly patients how to 'put the pain outside himself'. I think that's what I'm doing. It must be a survival technique. I feel a kinship with those guys who crashed their plane in the Andes, though here I am, supposedly in the middle of 'civilization', other 'humans' living less than 50 to a hundred feet away from me on all sides, the closest one less than ten feet away right this minute, through the floor in the duplex unit below. Might as well be on Jupiter.

exchange

What I feel like is, I'm up to me scuppers and can barely see over the bowsprit to even SEE if I'm about to run aground or be capsized, and the spray is blinding me and I have no idea where I'm going. Each day when I open my eyes, I spend the first few hours being amazed that I'm STILL HERE AT ALL.

And people seem to think I'm joking. I feel like one of those cartoon characters who've run off the edge of the cliff but haven't yet quite realized they're standing on thin air.

It's as if nobody but me can see the cliff, and even if they can, it's as unreal to them as a cartoon. The jagged rocks below, the likely outcome, are somehow invisible to them.

That's why people commit suicide: Because they KNOW, in their soul, their heart, their gut, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they've become INVISIBLE. And that NO ONE will catch them when they fall.

***
An ex-lover committed suicide about six months ago.

I had some pangs of regret, missed him for a while, had flashbacks of fond (and some not-so-fond, but mostly remembered the fond ones) memories.

I talked with the woman he'd been most recently involved with, who felt horribly guilty that her 'dumping' him had contributed to him giving up.

But I'd known him for a long time, and found him to be one of the most insanely selfish people I'd ever known.

This didn't keep me from *liking* him; he was quite likable, in spite of his self-centeredness. He just wasn't somebody I wanted to spend any time with.

The few times I ran into him, he'd go on about how he "still felt the same way", and I was always completely unmoved - the 'same way' as *what*??? When we were together (about a year), he'd made no effort whatsoever to cement our relationship. It was an endless series of lies, excuses and evasions, and I eventually dumped him because I saw the writing on the wall. Actually I saw the writing on the wall about six months in, but it took me another few months after that, stretching out to nearly a year total, for me to 'pull the plug'.

***
So, my question is: How much am I like this guy? I try REALLY HARD to give back to people who've helped me. The hard part is: What if they don't NEED any of the things I have to offer?

Like with my brother. I needed (and continue to need) all kinds of help, from borrowing the truck to help me move things, to shoveling dirt for the garden, to helping me with my car, etc. Projects that are just too big (physically) for me, or that I don't have the tools or knowledge or experience to deal with alone. Or, sometimes? I just need the moral support of having someone to work with! For god's sake, is this *really* so difficult to understand?

"Many hands make light work." There have to be a million sayings out there about such things.

And granted, from a physical standpoint, I can't offer in return what he's given me - his financial and physical resources far exceed mine. But I *can* offer to hang out with the girls, which is something that's good for *all* of us. And it's a not inconsiderable investment of time and energy for me to do it - I have to drive there, and handle, single-handedly, three young children for whom I have none of the physical, financial or emotional infrastructure that two full-time parents have. I'd say I do pretty damn well, when I do it. The fact that I'm limited to an hour or two or three at a time with them is not surprising, given that I have no money to spend to take them to fancy meals or outings - all our 'adventures' have centered on long walks, exploring and making up our own 'Tom Sawyer' type amusements. Which, at least from *my* point of view, have always been fun and rewarding, if sometimes exhausting. And the girls seemed to think so too.

This whole 'medium-of-exchange' approach - isn't there some saying about, "From each according to her abilities/gifts, to each according to her needs"? Or, "Those who can, must?" Maybe that's a 'democratic' ideal that has long since been mowed under by the stampeding feet pursuing individual 'happiness' and/or success.

I'm just thinking out loud, here, as usual, hoping that whatever's churning away in my gut - guilt, shame, fear, anger - will be relieved by attempting to lure it out in the open where I can SEE it, and, hopefully, DEAL with it, somehow.

what is a friend?

I recently asked a friend for help with some homemade 'storm windows' that I got last winter and never finished installing because I mis-measured the space they need to fit and they're just *that* much too big.

I left him a voicemail, hoping he might help - I need both a vehicle big enough to haul them to the hardware store to be re-cut (he's got a pickup truck and a station wagon), and an extra pair of hands, since the sheets are too big for me to physically handle alone.

I just got an email back that seemed calculated to make me feel guilty for asking, though he has a slightly flowery, archaic turn of phrase that makes it hard (for *me*) to tell whether he's joking or not.

I wrote a response back (that I sent to my*self*) that let me get out all the angry, frustrated, painful feelings I had when reading his email.

And now I'm trying to think of how to *really* respond.

First of all, I prefer the phone, because there can be some back-and-forth.

And also, I don't like being made responsible for someone else's guilt feelings!

I mean, why does he feel guilty in the first place? I don't know. I mean, *I* think he has far more resources than I do, from his family, to being male, etc. Privileges I'm quite sure he's blissfully unaware of.

I *do* know that he seems to have a certain kind of - puritanical? guilt, which he's exhibited repeatedly over the years.

I've never been sure how much our 'friendship' was based on that; how much was based on latent, unexpressed sexual attraction or other feeling; and how much he simply *likes* me and wanted to help.

Very confusing.

I've tried to talk about this before with him, when we were on a couple of long car journeys (just the two of us) to try to relieve the tension I'd always felt impeded us from being the kind of friends *I* thought we could be: Close, but not spending a lot of time together. Of like mind, on certain things. Kindred spirits, or something like that.

Exchanges like this make me question things - it's a bit of that Charlie-Brown-and-the-football, house of cards, quicksand feeling that I've had so often with my own family.

I wish I could TALK with him about it, openly and freely, and FIND OUT.

But he's married, and I'm not sure he even has conversations that candid with his own wife. I can't fathom how people do this - sleep, night after night, in close physical proximity to someone who might as well be living on Neptune for all the shared understanding they have of the other person's universe.

hunger

My hunger for love, touch, physical affection and companionship is so strong today that I can't EAT. Because my body knows that everything I put in my mouth will feel like a totally inadequate substitute for what I really need.

So I've worked my way through every barely edible thing in the house so that I don't have to face the endless shower/self-maintenance/psychological armoring process necessary to go out and face a bunch of strangers who'll press me with the obligatory, "How's it going."

To which I will feel compelled to answer, "Fine." Or, in spite of my best intentions of civility, my barely-contained stress/hunger/anger/rage/fury will leak out, as in, "Starving. How about you?" I usually manage, if I'm actually buying food, to simply say, "Hungry." To which I'll usually get an appreciative laugh, they'll assume I'm joking, and they'll say something hearty, like, "Well, you've come to the right place!" Socially-enforced jollity all round ensues.

Knowing what I need, but not being able to get it. Not even SEEING it around me, in the relationships of others. Seeing the same emptiness I feel in the faces of others who are in all kinds of different situations, and realizing that the hunger is EPIDEMIC. And I can't solve it all.

All I need is ONE other intelligent, thoughtful person who's UNDERSTOOD this problem for her/himself, and is willing to ENGAGE with me in solving it, at least for the two of us.

language, framing, stories, and tellings thereof

Cadging a line from a blog I'm reading, re: rejection by powerful parent/other figures:

" If you don’t want to be what she wants you to be, she has no use for you."

I'm not sure whether that sentiment applies more to the female half of the people who housed me as a child, or the male half.

It's incredibly powerful to play with language until you find WORDS that reflect what you FEEL.

Because then you can tell the story your OWN way, and not be limited by the words 'they' *let* you use.

Hm. That sentence says a lot.

***
Another contributor gave me another useful term: 'zygote donor' :-)

Let me practice.

"I'm not sure to whether that sentiment applies more to my egg donor or my sperm donor."

Doesn't quite have the ring I'm looking for. But it's a step in - some? direction.

good excerpt - thoughts on emotional abuse and neglect

From How not to raise a rapist
http://thehathorlegacy.com/how-not-to-raise-a-rapist/#comment-92062

Keep in mind that “psychological abuse” entails neglect and head games, a type of abuse that many people still aren’t schooled in recognizing. So when I say “don’t abuse your kids” I’m also saying

“don’t strategically withhold affection to make your child unnaturally dependent on your approval, which you dangle like a carrot,

so that he or she gets the idea all people of your gender are evil and should be punished.”

The bold is mine, and is a concept I think should be BEATEN (yeah, crossed-eyes emoticon here, meaning, I'm kidding) into the head of every parent or person-in-charge of the well-being of another, dependent-upon-them being:

DON'T STRATEGICALLY WITHHOLD AFFECTION.

'Strategically withholding affection' is abuse, a power play. At best it is passive-aggressive, and destructive to the relationship; at worst it is INSANELY damaging to the mental health and well-being of the person on the receiving end. Because it is a MIND fuck, gaslighting, fucking with the person's sense of right and wrong, of basic reality.

***
This all comes down to TRUST, I'm thinking - how to build it, how to destroy it. How to undermine it, both subtly and overtly.

I think I'm still 'chewing' through my encounter with Motorcycle boy at some level, though far less 'consciously' than I was for all those days I wrote about it.

Now it seems like it's more at a 'macro' level, as in, "What lessons can I learn from this?"

And I'm not trying to get all self-schooly on my ass and bust myself for 'falling in love'. I just think that it's an ongoing lesson in how to avoid the 'hole in the sidewalk'. Which I sure's HECK am tired of falling into.

I think, at this point, I need a different metaphor.

What I feel like happened with Motorcycle boy was that I remained in charge (of my*self*, that is) throughout the situation. I'm proud that I both opened up to someone new, while still looking out for my limits and boundaries, and that I didn't let him *cross* my (physical) boundaries. As far as the emotional ones? I feel like I - let him in as close as I want someone to be, but the fact that I now can't see him again when *I* want to makes it - unfair. Or something. Unequal? I keep wondering whether he'd actually LIKE to see me again, but is afraid? Ashamed? Uncertain because he'd had too much to drink? Or embarrassed because he gave me a fake phone number and did some other, weasly stuff that he now feels slimy about? Who knows. That's the thing: I don't like this UNCERTAINTY. I just want to KNOW.*

***
And then, *after* the fact, I found myself wishing I could see him again.

Pretty normal stuff, right? And how can you *ever* anticipate all the ways in which a thing won't turn out to be what you expected, for bad OR for good?

I went into that whole thing with no pre-meditation whatsoever -

You know, I think that's it. That's the boundary that got crossed, for me.

It was the URGENCY of needing to get together NOW that bothered/continues to bug me.

Not because I thought he had some ulterior motive, such as sex; but more the CONTROL aspect of it.

Now I have to stop and think a bit, because I feel like I HAVE it, the tail of the tiger, but I'm not sure what to DO with it.

Because it's so VANISHINGLY RARE for me to find someone who I'm interested in AT ALL, to encounter a complete random stranger -

Wait. It's Fundamental Attribution Error again.

Shit happens. Things happen. CHANCE is a large operator in the game of Life.

He showed up; I showed up. We had ONE dance.

After that one dance? It turns out that I'd like another.

But we met on a - dance floor? (argh, holy mutating metaphors, Batgirl!) that - well, it's kind of like the Twilight Zone: Once it's over, you're not really sure it ever happened.

Can I prevent that kind of thing from happening again?
SHOULD I?
Do I even WANT to?

Some of the most interesting, fun, exciting adventures I've ever had in my life have been essentially the equivalent of 'just get ON that sucker and HANG ON FOR DEAR LIFE', and enjoying the HELL out of the ride :-)

Some of the BIGGEST smiles EVER on my face have been when I just JUMPED, not without looking, but while seeing that, hey, I might not ever have this chance again! So, GO! Just DO it!

I have to say that I've never regretted any of those choices. I've only regretted things that I *haven't* done. My sense is that, as experiential beings, we pretty much have to find out for ourselves. Secondhand is never the same, or even close, really, to really experiencing something directly.

I'm not trying to say that anything I did was 'right' or 'wrong', just, again, trying to suss out any lurking, unfinished emotional business. It often seems that a 'new' adventure sort of gloms on to old, unfinished stuff, and kind of pulls the old thing, forcibly, out of the closet, or the woodwork, or whatever. The old stuff and the new stuff kind of *stick* to each other, because they're similar in some way.

So maybe it's that *similarity* that I'm trying to figure out? To know, exactly, what 'label' my mind filed this particular experience under, and WHY it's having such an impact on me for such a seemingly small event.

I think it's the control thing. That he knows where I live, but I've been unable to reach him or get any response from him. I know I mentioned this earlier, but I think it's the abandonment thing.

I think the hardest thing about the abandonment thing is that people expect you to magically 'just get over it, already.'

Which just compounds the issue and makes you feel even MORE neglected, lonely, frightened. Becuase the whole ABANDONMENT issue is about NOBODY CARING about you, in the first place.

So telling you to 'get over it' is yet ANOTHER abandonment, saying, again, "I don't CARE how this makes YOU feel; I want you to STOP BOTHERING ME WITH YOUR STUPID PROBLEMS/FEELINGS/NEEDS/THINGS THAT MAKE *ME* UNCOMFORTABLE."

Because, in EVERY CASE, the most important person in the exchange (?) and/or 'interaction' was THEM, and not ME.

So I'm trying to learn to shift the equation so that

I

AM ALWAYS

AS IMPORTANT
AS THE OTHER PERSON.

There. I think I finally put my finger on it, put it into words. Step back and look at it and see if that's it.

***
Really, what it's all about is: YUM, that was GOOD, I WANT MORE.

And feeling frustrated that, given how easily he popped IN to my life, why is it so INSANELY difficult to GET MORE?

Answer: Motorcycle boy is not candy. And I can't just go to the Motorcycle boy store and get more of him - "Please, sir, I'd like three bags full of cinnamon-flavored motorcycle boy."

I think, at some level, I never learned how to navigate these interactions as a child. Plus never being properly 'socialized' as a 'girl'; plus the contradictory rules and double-standards for women vs. men. What a TANGLE.

But I still feel GOOD about it :-). I just want MORE! Yes, be careful what you wish for. But if you're *too* careful, you'll go hungry. Moderation in all things, including moderation.

***
*This is something I've READ comes up a lot in 'dysfunctional' relationships, especially ones involving alcoholics or children of alcoholics (though I'm pretty solidly against the term 'alcoholic' at this point, I'm using the term because I haven't thought of something that makes more sense to me.)

Alcoholics lack EMPATHY, or, the ability to put themselves in the other person's shoes. And so there's always the OTHER person who's doing all that 'connective' or relational 'work', while the alcoholic basically remains a child, the one who's being 'taken care of'.

But I felt like Motorcycle boy was at least *attempting* to become aware of his own patterns about this. He still had a long way to go; and he didn't seem to EXPECT me to 'take care of' him. He seemed to soak up what I offered, and to acknowledge and appreciate it, OPENLY.

What it felt like, in short, was that he was more like ME.