Thursday, April 22, 2010

Ouchhhhh, the truth bit me and it really hurts.

Have you ever thought the same thing, feared the same thing, stumbled over the same stone so many times and never realized it until it comes to the straw that broke the camel's back scenario and you're like, "shit, this again? I've had it up to here with this. I am never getting myself in this position again. I am never doing this again." And you close your eyes and repeat your mantra 20 times until you believe it. You will never, ever make that same mistake again.

Oh wait, just kidding. It might be next week, next month, next year or three years later, but you're back to this same scenario again, wondering why you feel deja vu.

In my life, I've done this the most with drinking. Waking up after a blackout night, only being able to open one eye, and feeling the weight of impending doom blanket me with darkness and force. Nursing a hellish hangover all day, looking at my call log/text log and clenching my jaw in embarrassment, forcing myself to apologize for my misdeeds. By mid-afternoon I often made bargains with God, (a God I spent many drunk nights verbally doubting his existence after feeling "enlightened" by the chemicals I was under) asking him to take away the mental/physical torture in return for me promising never to do this again. And I believed I was being honest. Until Wednesday came around, and I was off to the races again. I didn't change because I was incapable of being honest. I was powerless over alcohol.

Anyway, I find myself in this position sometimes lately, 3 years after I put down the sauce. Except now it's different because I can see exactly what I'm doing because I'm finally aware and alive on earth, rather than Adia's Dreamworld (my previous residence of 23 years). I have become, in a sense, more honest. Honesty kind of sucks though, because that means that I can't lie to myself like I used to. For example, I tried telling myself this afternoon, "You couldn't clean the apartment because you were busy all day and what you spent the day doing was more important than cleaning your place." Wrong. I picked up one thing off the bathroom floor today and decided I just couldn't bare to pick up another. I grabbed the keys, the dog, my sneakers and my sunglasses and spent the day outside on Kelly Drive, exploring nature and talking to strangers. I even picked up one of my favorite people and forced her to eat lunch with me, hang with me and chat with me until dinner time. I knew eventually I would go home but I left myself just enough time away from my mess to convince myself that it was too late to start my spring cleaning today so it would have to be put off. I've done this everyday for about a week and a half now. The honest truth is that I just hate to clean. It activates my allergies and it involves hanging clothes on hangers, which makes me want to bash my head into a wall. I. Hate. Cleaning.

But I have to do it, ya know? I can't keep sleeping on the couch because I hate my bedroom so much. I'm a grown up. This is no way to live. And I specifically remember how fabulous it felt the last time I cleaned my place perfectly. I even asked for help and had three friends join in and we made a little party out of it. Now look what I've done. Trashed it, like I do everything else.

I mean, I'd like to get a little deeper here but I'm apprehensive about unleashing the dragon I like to call my personal life. But, everybody likes a good self-sabotaging rant and rave, so here I go.

I cannot, for the life of me, handle myself in a normal, respectful manner when it comes to my personal life. I did not realize until after I put the drink down, how sensitive and attached and real my feelings are. I have been single for .2 seconds basically. I say this because y'all know how it is when you break up with someone. My break up has lasted, in itself, a year. We spent one year together, one year breaking up. No wonder I'm having trouble patching my heart up. The trouble was/is that he is so friggin' devoted to me that even if I stray at all, he knows just how to lure me back in. It begins again as simple friendship, then it gets personal, then he convinces me to try again, I do for a minute, I then freak out because I know it's not what I want, and then I have to mend again, and so does he. Even when I think it's totally donezo, I find myself feeling guilty for moving on and wonder if he's alright. I think in therapy they call this co-dependency. Add this to my list of mental illnesses.

I have enjoyed spending time with some other gentleman callers but let me tell you something about me - I have conveniently chosen to spend time with men who I know, I know, are not going to give me anything great at the end of the day. And ya know what? I allow myself to go there because, guess what? I won't be giving them anything great at the end of the day either. I'm not capable. I don't know how to act normal anymore when it comes to the opposite sex. I'm a freaking wreck.

Now, when I say I'm a wreck, I mean mostly in my head. I'm not going all "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days," on anyway. I guess mostly I'm just indecisive and confused to the extreme. I want someone one minute, the next I want to ignore them. I like what they're saying one day, the next day I read their text/play our conversation over and decide to read between the lines and don't like what I've come up with. I become frightened that I'll fall back into another relationship before I'm ready, so I remain mysterious and allusive. This does nothing for me, the guy usually ends up resenting me and telling me I have issues. Duh, I know. I warned you. Or didn't I? I can't remember half the time.

It comes down to this - I have no idea who I am when it comes to relating to a man these days. Do I keep it casual? Do I want just a physical connection? Do I want a friendship? Do I just want a flirty text conversation to keep me with butterflies in my stomach and a smile on my face that you can't see? I have no idea. I really don't.

I do know that I promised myself that this time, after this break up, I would never allow myself to compromise who I was for someone else, and although I haven't compromised myself for someone else, I think I've compromised myself period, just by entering the dating pool/single world before I was ready. I should give credit where credit's due actually - my last therapist, Linda, what a beautiful woman. She's the one who suggested keeping myself off limits from all men for at least 6 months. That was a year ago when the ex and I first called it quits. If she could only see me now. Linda, I completely ignored your suggestion, but I'm sure you knew I wouldn't. You still got my $60 a session.

I don't know how many times I'm going to tell myself that I'll never do this again before I actually never do this again. What I need is a big sign on my head that reads, "Do not talk to me if you're interested in me. I'm not ready. Even if I say so, I'm not. Even if I tell you it can just be casual, it can't. Even if I say we can just be friends, I don't mean it. It's in your best interest to run, run far, far away. And don't look back, because I have a way of luring you in with my eyes."

If I knew what was good for me I'd keep myself occupied by doing something useful - like clean my fucking apartment.

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