It was one of those days: things in life were wrong, and I was trying to pretend they weren’t and enjoy the fact that I had the day off and was hanging out with J. Everything started okay–I slept in, didn’t wake up too hungover, went for a run, had a little snack and a coffee, showered, and then returned to J’s house where he was watching TV. But as I sat there, trying desperately to be interested in Motorcycle racing and the baseball game, I couldn’t seem to focus, and I was beginning to feel frustrated. I was a little hungry, and I wanted to know what we were doing for the night, but instead of saying this to J, I just sat there, growing more and more restless.
I have a really hard time declaring the things that I want to others. Mostly I feel that they are unimportant or annoying, and so I wait for the feeling to either pass or be alleviated by the other person or people. But I couldn’t do it that night because my head was so full of questions and thoughts that it was ready to burst.
I should back up. I was in an eight-year dysfunctional relationship that didn’t end well, and for the past year, I’ve been trying, and to some extent succeeding, to figure out what the hell happened. The only problem is that I’m scared to death to make the same mistakes over again with J, so I keep mute about a lot of things that others might speak up about. Not surprisingly, I also did this with N, the ex. How do I break this cycle? I know I need to tell J what’s on my mind, even if it’s stupid or I feel self-conscious about it, but I’m so afraid that I’ll lose him if he sees the mania that is my mind.
N accused me of being crazy more than once, and I chose to believe him. That’s why I stayed so long: if I was that crazy, how could I possibly leave him and face the world on my own? But he only thought I was crazy because I was different than he was, responded differently to situations, and had my own thoughts and opinions. Instead of just telling him to fuck off, I repressed all of this, and tried to be just like him until I hit breaking points–sometimes they were small, and we would just argue, but other times, I was suicidal–I felt like I had no control, that I was not important, and that I was just another pain in the ass in a world full of whiney people. What I really needed was a hug, but when you act a little nuts, people tend to walk away. There seem to be so few people who can look you in the eye, accept that you’re having a tough day, and just hold you for a second.
I don’t want to be crazy any more. I don’t want to ever think about suicide again; it’s so stupid and pointless–we’re all here, and we all need to be making the best of it. I say this, but I know how that lack of control feels–there is nowhere to turn, and nothing seems to make it feel better. But maybe it’s just because I don’t talk stuff through enough, and if I just trusted J enough, I could start free-associating things that popped into my mind and maybe even cry, and the release itself would feel better, and he’d probably even feel better, because he’s told me a million times that I can talk to him and that he wants to know what I think, etc.
I have to do something else: I have to kick the editor out of my head–that little voice that tells me I’m stupid and insignificant, and yes, crazy. Because if I was born into this world, if I’m supposed to live, and make it through the shit and joy of life, isn’t it my basic right to express myself, and not worry how someone else will react? The worst that could happen is that I lose J, which would be really awful, but the best that could happen is that we get to know each other better, and develop a relationship that isn’t based on lies or compromises of self. It still won’t be easy, but at least it will be real.
I want to tell him all this, but it will probably take a some beer and a shot or two. Some habits die hard.
