So, I went to the local community Reflection Gathering today, Mr Nice Guy in tow- voluntarily.
Having never been to a Reflection Gathering, I wasn't aware just how administrative it is.
I learned tonight.
Mr Nice Guy sat patiently through an hour of discussion, despite being tired and probably more than a little impatient, but he hid it well.
After we took a break, we came back and sat down (I'd made sure by this point he was okay with staying through the second half) and, well, my community surprised even me.
By this point, it had been well established that Mr Nice Guy knew little to nothing of the Baha'i Faith. Several people had approached him with bits and pieces and offerings of info. One of our Persian Friends, though, took a special interest immediately, if rather indirectly. He pulled the organizer of tonight's meeting aside during the break to ask if we could do a small fireside.
Very quickly, it turned from a 'small fireside' into a very, very animated discussion as each of us went around the room, to include the Youth-age folks, and explained how they became Baha'i. Needless to say, hilarity ensued. We have some wonderfully funny and talented Persians in our community, one in particular who is a fantastic storyteller. Even the folks who were born into a Baha'i family generally had pretty interesting or funny stories passed down from parents and grandparents about how they had become Baha'i. One of our Youth ladies simply stated "I've been a Baha'i eighteen years. Anyone wanna guess how old I am?!" Naturally, the room erupted into laughter, after having only just heard quite the emotional discourse from one of our more weathered Friends.
Mr Nice Guy hasn't said much, and I plan to talk to him a bit over the coming week, but so far, I really can't gauge how he feels about it over all, though he still has only fairly vague information about it, I suppose.
I can't possibly explain how good it felt to be back with the community.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Sedated
Well, it looks like the meds work.
I, of course, have mixed feelings about this.
Yesterday, I forgot to take my dose in the morning, and took what I was could for a late afternoon dose.
I calmed down.
It wasn't a ridiculous sedation or anything, and I didn't feel like I hit a brick wall that made all the bad stuff go away, it just made me more... logical, I guess. I calmed down.
By the time I heard from Mr Nice Guy, it'd been about 4 hours since I'd last heard from him and, of course, plenty had gone through my head by this point.
He called, saying he'd just dropped her off. The tone in my voice and the phrase "We'll talk about it when you get here" apparently tipped him off to just how wrong he was.
When he got here, the first words out of his mouth were "I'm an idiot. I didn't even think about it."
He was very apologetic and very sweet. We did, however discuss my feelings about that situation and her, and, as it turns out, she knows/knew Madman and some of his friends. I'll avoid explaining her incriminating comment and why I further lost respect for someone I have never met, but, yes, I care for her even less than I did before. She'll be leaving for basic training before Mr Nice Guy and I get back from T-City, and words can't express my happiness at this. I am not the judgmental type, as a rule, but basic courtesies are sort of a requirement in my book, and, when someone's hanging out with my boyfriend without me around, well, there's protocol.
Today is better. I'm hanging out, cleaning, doing laundry and packing, and taking my sweet time about it, which is nice to be able to do. Mr Nice Guy had a really rough day yesterday, but is doing better today. He stayed here later than usual last night so we could talk, and so we both felt better about everything that had happened. It was very much appreciated, too. He really is an awfully good man.
I, of course, have mixed feelings about this.
Yesterday, I forgot to take my dose in the morning, and took what I was could for a late afternoon dose.
I calmed down.
It wasn't a ridiculous sedation or anything, and I didn't feel like I hit a brick wall that made all the bad stuff go away, it just made me more... logical, I guess. I calmed down.
By the time I heard from Mr Nice Guy, it'd been about 4 hours since I'd last heard from him and, of course, plenty had gone through my head by this point.
He called, saying he'd just dropped her off. The tone in my voice and the phrase "We'll talk about it when you get here" apparently tipped him off to just how wrong he was.
When he got here, the first words out of his mouth were "I'm an idiot. I didn't even think about it."
He was very apologetic and very sweet. We did, however discuss my feelings about that situation and her, and, as it turns out, she knows/knew Madman and some of his friends. I'll avoid explaining her incriminating comment and why I further lost respect for someone I have never met, but, yes, I care for her even less than I did before. She'll be leaving for basic training before Mr Nice Guy and I get back from T-City, and words can't express my happiness at this. I am not the judgmental type, as a rule, but basic courtesies are sort of a requirement in my book, and, when someone's hanging out with my boyfriend without me around, well, there's protocol.
Today is better. I'm hanging out, cleaning, doing laundry and packing, and taking my sweet time about it, which is nice to be able to do. Mr Nice Guy had a really rough day yesterday, but is doing better today. He stayed here later than usual last night so we could talk, and so we both felt better about everything that had happened. It was very much appreciated, too. He really is an awfully good man.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Hellfire
As is prone to happen, the Bear snuck up on me.
The bear is the only way I can reference this horrible person that pops into my head at marked times of the month.
I was doing so well on the anti-depressants and, well, what a day to forget my morning meds.
Mr. Nice Guy is out to dinner with a female friend.
In general, I have no issues with this. I trust him.
Her, on the other hand...
I was pretty passive about the first dinner they had when Mr Nice Guy and I first started seeing each other. I'm not the type to judge or be jealous.
So, when he mentioned this dinner with the same girl, I told him I'd like to meet her. She agreed.
Then changed her mind.
I don't know if it was her comment that she "saw no point" in meeting me or if it was the comment about how easily she makes enemies that set me on edge, but my general respect for this friend of my boyfriend's quickly fizzled.
Now, I haven't heard from him in three hours and he hasn't responded to a single text.
If I hear from him, I'm sure it'll get blown off to him having left his phone somewhere, but my heart hurts, and, even though I know most of it's hormones, and even though I took the allowed medication for this time of evening, I feel miserable and angry and hurt and jealous and depressed... And I'm just expecting him to blow me off for good. It's what men do.
It hurts so badly to think about all of this, but this is how I get when the "bear" wakes up, and I hate it. I just want so badly to hear from him, but mostly, just to feel like everything's okay. I know I can handle anything, but this isn't something I expected to have to deal with. He's been so respectful and made such an effort at letting me know what was going on, this just shakes me to the bone....
The bear is the only way I can reference this horrible person that pops into my head at marked times of the month.
I was doing so well on the anti-depressants and, well, what a day to forget my morning meds.
Mr. Nice Guy is out to dinner with a female friend.
In general, I have no issues with this. I trust him.
Her, on the other hand...
I was pretty passive about the first dinner they had when Mr Nice Guy and I first started seeing each other. I'm not the type to judge or be jealous.
So, when he mentioned this dinner with the same girl, I told him I'd like to meet her. She agreed.
Then changed her mind.
I don't know if it was her comment that she "saw no point" in meeting me or if it was the comment about how easily she makes enemies that set me on edge, but my general respect for this friend of my boyfriend's quickly fizzled.
Now, I haven't heard from him in three hours and he hasn't responded to a single text.
If I hear from him, I'm sure it'll get blown off to him having left his phone somewhere, but my heart hurts, and, even though I know most of it's hormones, and even though I took the allowed medication for this time of evening, I feel miserable and angry and hurt and jealous and depressed... And I'm just expecting him to blow me off for good. It's what men do.
It hurts so badly to think about all of this, but this is how I get when the "bear" wakes up, and I hate it. I just want so badly to hear from him, but mostly, just to feel like everything's okay. I know I can handle anything, but this isn't something I expected to have to deal with. He's been so respectful and made such an effort at letting me know what was going on, this just shakes me to the bone....
OThou Whose tests are a healing medicine to such as are nigh unto Thee, Whose sword is the ardent desire of all them that love Thee, Whose dart is the dearest wish of those hearts that yearn after Thee, Whose decree is the sole hope of them that have recognized Thy truth! I implore Thee, by Thy divine sweetness and by the splendors of the glory of Thy face, to send down upon us from Thy retreats on high that which will enable us to draw nigh unto Thee. Set, then, our feet firm, O my God, in Thy Cause, and enlighten our hearts with the effulgence of Thy knowledge, and illumine our breasts with the brightness of Thy names.
Bahá’u’lláh
Attention & Intention
I was sitting back, catching up on some of my favorite blogs, when I stumbled across this over at One Baha'i's Approach.
Meade talks about something that really hit home with me right about now: core activities outside the 'norm'.
As I've said here, I haven't been involved with my local community for a couple months now, though this may change shortly, with some recent improvements to communication. My local community is far more conservative than what my experience had been thus far, and, having been raised Catholic, there are some parts of conservatism that make me quite uncomfortable.
Not having children, I haven't been involved as much as I would like with children in general.
Devotionals, however, have been a rather different story.
I have been blessed to recently be able to start teaching Mr Nice Guy about the Faith, and he has been quite receptive. Being in the military, well, I talk about the Faith openly, but it is a heavily Christian sort of community, and, all too often, the most I can do is be open to questions and discussions. Perhaps this counts as a combination of devotionals and home visits? I'm not entirely sure.
My earlier reference to improved communication was not passing. I recently got a response to my email to my fellow Baha'i about his efforts and my feelings on them. He apologized, and, much to my surprise, agreed with me on several counts. He said he realized that our community needed to be more open-minded. This surprised me, but I was glad to hear it. We have a Reflections gathering tomorrow night that I think I may attend, though it's more than a little overwhelming to think about at this point.
Meade talks about something that really hit home with me right about now: core activities outside the 'norm'.
As I've said here, I haven't been involved with my local community for a couple months now, though this may change shortly, with some recent improvements to communication. My local community is far more conservative than what my experience had been thus far, and, having been raised Catholic, there are some parts of conservatism that make me quite uncomfortable.
Not having children, I haven't been involved as much as I would like with children in general.
Devotionals, however, have been a rather different story.
I have been blessed to recently be able to start teaching Mr Nice Guy about the Faith, and he has been quite receptive. Being in the military, well, I talk about the Faith openly, but it is a heavily Christian sort of community, and, all too often, the most I can do is be open to questions and discussions. Perhaps this counts as a combination of devotionals and home visits? I'm not entirely sure.
My earlier reference to improved communication was not passing. I recently got a response to my email to my fellow Baha'i about his efforts and my feelings on them. He apologized, and, much to my surprise, agreed with me on several counts. He said he realized that our community needed to be more open-minded. This surprised me, but I was glad to hear it. We have a Reflections gathering tomorrow night that I think I may attend, though it's more than a little overwhelming to think about at this point.
Center
I've been on leave since the 29th of June.
It's the first leave (vacation time) I've taken in a year, and it's much over due.
I'm enjoying sleeping in, relaxing and having time for myself, rather than trying to squeeze in everything I need to do or should do between 10-12 hours of work each day.
I feel like me again.
I feel the hormones fluctuating, and worry when Mr Nice Guy might be baptized by fire, and just how badly. I no longer worry about my reaction to the hell-fires, but Mr Nice Guy is someone I want in my life and who fits with me in a way I can't explain. I can't stand the idea of losing him. He's local, so I know I'll likely at least be able to see him when it all hits, which will either help or do infinite amounts of damage, and I know he's pretty touchy-feely, so I can only hope that he'll be the one to put his arms around me when I fall apart, rather than run like so many others have.
I knew in my heart I would have dealt with Madman's own particular breed of gruff love and attitude for as long as he'd have let me. I also knew, though, that he didn't treat me the way I wanted and being with him would likely mean giving up several things that were important to me- having shared faith, children, open and honest communication...
Mr Nice Guy is the one who doesn't make me give up anything. I'm not afraid to talk to him, he accepts me for just who I am, wants children, believes in God and wants to share that with me. I'm not scared to see how he will react to his own children, or how thoroughly he'll hold on to a grudge against his parents. He was very hurt when his parents divorced in his adulthood, but, impressively, he is still very close to both of his parents as well as his older sister. I think he tends to lean more towards his father now, while that wasn't the case before the divorce, but he frequently speaks to both of his parents and his sister. If I speak to my own sister twice in a month, it's unusual, sadly, and my mother, well, lack of her presence in my life is simply better for the entire family at this point.
I want the kind of family he has, and I would love to see it flow naturally into our future.
My dad was talking to me a couple weeks ago, and mentioned that one of his doctors suggested he go see a psychiatrist to help him manage his depression. I'm not sure what he said to her, but his response to this, in speaking to me, was to get rather upset and say that he knew that his depression stemmed from perceived emotional abuse by his father when he was a child, and that any doctor he saw would tell him the same thing. It's no surprise to me at this point that my father went through what he did, and it's nothing new for me to hear him voice it. The voice in the back of my head, though, that spoke up this time is something new. In my head I heard "I don't want to be that way."
My mother did what she did, and is who she is.
I was raped twice, as well as molested as a young child.
I lost a lot of people in my life, through death and other events.
I don't want to be fifty-eight years old, with two grown children, and still know that the problems I have then are the cause of something that occurred long before I ever thought of having children of my own.
It's occurred to me since then that a) I have come a long way already and b) each generation's goal is, mostly, to improve upon what their own parents were. I know I can do this without disrespecting or looking down on what my own parents are/were.
It's driven me crazy, in the past, that I didn't have the daughter I carried, however briefly.
Now, though, I see how much better my childrens' lives will be for waiting until later to have children.
Now, I look forward to what my children will have and be, because I know I am capable of loving them and truly enjoying their lives without my own past making me paranoid or otherwise less than present for my children.
Now, I'm ready to move forward.
It's the first leave (vacation time) I've taken in a year, and it's much over due.
I'm enjoying sleeping in, relaxing and having time for myself, rather than trying to squeeze in everything I need to do or should do between 10-12 hours of work each day.
I feel like me again.
I feel the hormones fluctuating, and worry when Mr Nice Guy might be baptized by fire, and just how badly. I no longer worry about my reaction to the hell-fires, but Mr Nice Guy is someone I want in my life and who fits with me in a way I can't explain. I can't stand the idea of losing him. He's local, so I know I'll likely at least be able to see him when it all hits, which will either help or do infinite amounts of damage, and I know he's pretty touchy-feely, so I can only hope that he'll be the one to put his arms around me when I fall apart, rather than run like so many others have.
I knew in my heart I would have dealt with Madman's own particular breed of gruff love and attitude for as long as he'd have let me. I also knew, though, that he didn't treat me the way I wanted and being with him would likely mean giving up several things that were important to me- having shared faith, children, open and honest communication...
Mr Nice Guy is the one who doesn't make me give up anything. I'm not afraid to talk to him, he accepts me for just who I am, wants children, believes in God and wants to share that with me. I'm not scared to see how he will react to his own children, or how thoroughly he'll hold on to a grudge against his parents. He was very hurt when his parents divorced in his adulthood, but, impressively, he is still very close to both of his parents as well as his older sister. I think he tends to lean more towards his father now, while that wasn't the case before the divorce, but he frequently speaks to both of his parents and his sister. If I speak to my own sister twice in a month, it's unusual, sadly, and my mother, well, lack of her presence in my life is simply better for the entire family at this point.
I want the kind of family he has, and I would love to see it flow naturally into our future.
My dad was talking to me a couple weeks ago, and mentioned that one of his doctors suggested he go see a psychiatrist to help him manage his depression. I'm not sure what he said to her, but his response to this, in speaking to me, was to get rather upset and say that he knew that his depression stemmed from perceived emotional abuse by his father when he was a child, and that any doctor he saw would tell him the same thing. It's no surprise to me at this point that my father went through what he did, and it's nothing new for me to hear him voice it. The voice in the back of my head, though, that spoke up this time is something new. In my head I heard "I don't want to be that way."
My mother did what she did, and is who she is.
I was raped twice, as well as molested as a young child.
I lost a lot of people in my life, through death and other events.
I don't want to be fifty-eight years old, with two grown children, and still know that the problems I have then are the cause of something that occurred long before I ever thought of having children of my own.
It's occurred to me since then that a) I have come a long way already and b) each generation's goal is, mostly, to improve upon what their own parents were. I know I can do this without disrespecting or looking down on what my own parents are/were.
It's driven me crazy, in the past, that I didn't have the daughter I carried, however briefly.
Now, though, I see how much better my childrens' lives will be for waiting until later to have children.
Now, I look forward to what my children will have and be, because I know I am capable of loving them and truly enjoying their lives without my own past making me paranoid or otherwise less than present for my children.
Now, I'm ready to move forward.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
So Much
I met Mr. Nice Guy on June 17th.
Today is July 6th.
So much has happened.
Maybe two days prior to meeting Mr Nice Guy, I gave in and did something I had battled against, literally, for years. I asked for help.
I have PMDD- Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder.
Generally, two days a month- separate days- I fall apart in the most complete sense of the phrase.
There have been times I genuinely questioned whether I would survive the day without committing suicide. The complete, and total darkness I fall into, generally one day around ovulation and one shortly before menstruating, is a black abyss that I never get used to, and, in all honesty, I am truly surprised it hasn't killed me yet.
I saw a doctor one day, after my father's illness got worse, the end of my relationship with Madman, some fairly serious problems at work, money problems, and a major change in plans for the next year of my life all came at once. I asked for anti-depressants, and gave her a very detailed history, to include my mother's Munchausens' syndrome, alcoholism, etc and fathers various health issues, and history of chronic depression. I have been on the medication since mid June, and, well, I haven't had any "bad days" so far.
The string of events that occurred still seems incredible to me.
My relationship with Madman exploded in a way I honestly did not think would ever happen. I truly believed our back-and-forth frustration was something that we'd work through, that would surely get better in time, but honestly believed that we'd end up married and together for life, in spite of ourselves.
I don't know if my mood bottoming out or the break up came first, but the combination of one of my "bad days" (there just aren't words to describe days filled with such terror as some of those have brought me) together with the events of our break up forced me to a point of depression that I couldn't deny. I had to break that horrible cycle.
Within days of doing what I had to in order to get better, I met Mr Nice Guy.
Any fan of psychology 101 will look at this chain of events and say that my accepting help was an acceptance of myself in some ways, and, therefor, opened me up to relationship possibilities I may not have welcomed before. Makes sense.
I tend toward the spiritual or holistic ways of looking at it, as I seriously doubt bottoming out in the days prior to meeting someone wonderfully compatible with you is statistically likely.
However, the truth of the matter is, I really don't care why it happened.
I'm just happy it did.
We're still in the early weeks of a relationship, but, I am happy to find myself still enjoying and appreciating his company and attention. He went up to K-town to meet some very close friends of mine over the 4th of July weekend, and, despite his utterly, painfully shy nature, he impressed me greatly. He tolerated my love of people and my need to be surrounded by the people I care about, and seemed to, in a way, enjoy from the background my love of attention. He rode a mechanical bull for the first time- and this four-eyed, quiet, So You Think You Can Dance-watching, flip-flop and jeans-wearing nerd made folks who had ridden a hundred times look pathetic. I was beyond impressed. Then he proceeded to come out with me (voluntarily!!) on to the dance floor and verrry quickly pick up both The Cupid Shuffle and the line dance to Copperhead Road. I was impressed that he was willing to even try, the fact that he had both down within the first time seeing it done just blew me away. I pretended not to notice the gawkers as I held his hand while I showed him the steps. I know we look very different- and we are- and I know these ego-maniacal types who think because I'm "pretty" I should limit myself to dating "hot" men. What they just don't get is that, even though his personality is what absolutely means the most to me, I don't see a nerd when I look at him. I see past the glasses and shy demeanor and see the thick, toned biceps, broad shoulders and toned, muscular chest. I get that everyone else stops looking the second they throw him into one of their mental categories, but, if I had done that... Wow.
If I had turned my attention away the second I realized he wasn't "cool", I'd have missed out on someone who makes me laugh even when I don't want to, who says sweet things that I was convinced only were in sappy chick flicks, who holds my hand in public, who genuinely likes my company and the way I think, who gets a major kick out of catching other guys looking at his girlfriend, who has no problem with my blatant honesty, or other less-than-admirable qualities and who was excited when I told him my definition of intimacy was being able to pray with someone I'm in a relationship- something, by the way, that has yet to happen for me at all.
I have fallen in love with Mr Nice Guy. After dating men that I thought would take care of me and a family in the future, I found a man who loves me and appreciates who I am right now and has no intention of being anywhere but by my side in the future.
It has all happened very quickly. He has met my father, my friends and I have met some of his friends, and will travel with him to T-City for a week this Saturday to meet his family and childhood friends, all of whom are actively Christian.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified at all of this, but, well, I've never been happier, and it scares me.
I feel like we're starting off together, not ending up together, and that makes a world of difference. I don't feel like I have to find a place in his life, nor him in mine. It seems as though we're building a new life, together, from scratch. We're building a life of dancing, dedication, faith, love and family.
Today is July 6th.
So much has happened.
Maybe two days prior to meeting Mr Nice Guy, I gave in and did something I had battled against, literally, for years. I asked for help.
I have PMDD- Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder.
Generally, two days a month- separate days- I fall apart in the most complete sense of the phrase.
There have been times I genuinely questioned whether I would survive the day without committing suicide. The complete, and total darkness I fall into, generally one day around ovulation and one shortly before menstruating, is a black abyss that I never get used to, and, in all honesty, I am truly surprised it hasn't killed me yet.
I saw a doctor one day, after my father's illness got worse, the end of my relationship with Madman, some fairly serious problems at work, money problems, and a major change in plans for the next year of my life all came at once. I asked for anti-depressants, and gave her a very detailed history, to include my mother's Munchausens' syndrome, alcoholism, etc and fathers various health issues, and history of chronic depression. I have been on the medication since mid June, and, well, I haven't had any "bad days" so far.
The string of events that occurred still seems incredible to me.
My relationship with Madman exploded in a way I honestly did not think would ever happen. I truly believed our back-and-forth frustration was something that we'd work through, that would surely get better in time, but honestly believed that we'd end up married and together for life, in spite of ourselves.
I don't know if my mood bottoming out or the break up came first, but the combination of one of my "bad days" (there just aren't words to describe days filled with such terror as some of those have brought me) together with the events of our break up forced me to a point of depression that I couldn't deny. I had to break that horrible cycle.
Within days of doing what I had to in order to get better, I met Mr Nice Guy.
Any fan of psychology 101 will look at this chain of events and say that my accepting help was an acceptance of myself in some ways, and, therefor, opened me up to relationship possibilities I may not have welcomed before. Makes sense.
I tend toward the spiritual or holistic ways of looking at it, as I seriously doubt bottoming out in the days prior to meeting someone wonderfully compatible with you is statistically likely.
However, the truth of the matter is, I really don't care why it happened.
I'm just happy it did.
We're still in the early weeks of a relationship, but, I am happy to find myself still enjoying and appreciating his company and attention. He went up to K-town to meet some very close friends of mine over the 4th of July weekend, and, despite his utterly, painfully shy nature, he impressed me greatly. He tolerated my love of people and my need to be surrounded by the people I care about, and seemed to, in a way, enjoy from the background my love of attention. He rode a mechanical bull for the first time- and this four-eyed, quiet, So You Think You Can Dance-watching, flip-flop and jeans-wearing nerd made folks who had ridden a hundred times look pathetic. I was beyond impressed. Then he proceeded to come out with me (voluntarily!!) on to the dance floor and verrry quickly pick up both The Cupid Shuffle and the line dance to Copperhead Road. I was impressed that he was willing to even try, the fact that he had both down within the first time seeing it done just blew me away. I pretended not to notice the gawkers as I held his hand while I showed him the steps. I know we look very different- and we are- and I know these ego-maniacal types who think because I'm "pretty" I should limit myself to dating "hot" men. What they just don't get is that, even though his personality is what absolutely means the most to me, I don't see a nerd when I look at him. I see past the glasses and shy demeanor and see the thick, toned biceps, broad shoulders and toned, muscular chest. I get that everyone else stops looking the second they throw him into one of their mental categories, but, if I had done that... Wow.
If I had turned my attention away the second I realized he wasn't "cool", I'd have missed out on someone who makes me laugh even when I don't want to, who says sweet things that I was convinced only were in sappy chick flicks, who holds my hand in public, who genuinely likes my company and the way I think, who gets a major kick out of catching other guys looking at his girlfriend, who has no problem with my blatant honesty, or other less-than-admirable qualities and who was excited when I told him my definition of intimacy was being able to pray with someone I'm in a relationship- something, by the way, that has yet to happen for me at all.
I have fallen in love with Mr Nice Guy. After dating men that I thought would take care of me and a family in the future, I found a man who loves me and appreciates who I am right now and has no intention of being anywhere but by my side in the future.
It has all happened very quickly. He has met my father, my friends and I have met some of his friends, and will travel with him to T-City for a week this Saturday to meet his family and childhood friends, all of whom are actively Christian.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified at all of this, but, well, I've never been happier, and it scares me.
I feel like we're starting off together, not ending up together, and that makes a world of difference. I don't feel like I have to find a place in his life, nor him in mine. It seems as though we're building a new life, together, from scratch. We're building a life of dancing, dedication, faith, love and family.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Without Fear
Madman is happier alone, and I am happier not trying to teach him how to be half of a relationship. I suppose I will always love him, but what good is loving someone if you're both miserable together? We're better friends, and, after a week of being without one another, have finally come to that agreement.
Naturally, my heart took about two days of pain before it was hopeful again. It's a mixed blessing, recovering from heartbreak like I do. While I know myself ridiculously well, I know it looks to everyone else like I'm constantly rebounding.
Today, though, I stopped worrying about that.
I met someone, admittedly through the internet, who I really thought would be no more than a friend. With such a rough week, by Friday night, all I wanted was to be around people again. So, Mr. Nice Guy, with whom I share an MOS (military occupational specialty) and a great deal of mutual acquaintances, as it turned out, invited me to come over to watch a movie. Had we not known so many of the same people and been talking so much like old friends, I wouldn't have agreed. Over the span of a weekend, I realized how good it felt to be close to someone, to be accepted and held and talked to. Mr. Nice Guy is anything but "my type". He is so goofy and nerdy it astounds me, thick glasses and all, but I have never relaxed around someone so much so fast... There was no question of him disrespecting or putting me down. We clicked, immediately and completely, and I find myself laughing and smiling constantly with him... I can talk to him honestly and openly about things, even things that involve other men. I feel safe and cared for and absolutely wanted when I'm with him. He's every bit as affectionate and goofy and sweet as anybody I could have dreamed. He is, in some ways, my opposite, though, as he has a shy streak a mile wide and is far less verbal with his affection than I am. His compliments often come out awkwardly and frequently only once he's had the time to think through it all and phrase it just the way he wants. It all amuses impulsive, open, outgoing me, but it also takes me to a level of flattered that astounds me. He is what every mother dreams her daughter will bring home, and what every father wants his son to be. He understands mechanics, likes guns, is big and solid and muscular, incredibly smart, and has great manners. He's also startlingly observant, which is something that will, inevitably, throw me. He sees my reactions to every word and movement, and responds, without being asked, to all of them.
Madman has a way of making me feel broken and damaged, as, I suspect, he takes some amount of his identity from what pains he's experienced. I don't want to do that. I don't want to be the person who holds on to the past, though I think I have a bit too much up until now. I don't want to feel broken anymore, I've spent enough of my life trying to heal. It's time to start living again, and to stop trying to figure out what is wrong with me. I am human, I will never be perfect, and I'm okay with that.
I haven't attended any Baha'i community events in several months now. I sent a long, rather pointed email to a fellow Baha'i who consistently pushed me to do more with the community, and, several times, implicated that I hadn't done this/that/the other simply out of laziness or not wanting to. His idea of how we might best reach out to people and mine are clearly very different, but this is, frankly, a very conservative Baha'i community. I respect even the most strict tenets of my Faith, but I believe, even more strongly, in the message that has been forgotten and/or missed for so many centuries that is such a central focus to the Baha'i faith: LOVE ABOVE ALL ELSE. So long as I love my fellow man, and do my best to help and teach and guide others, I am doing right by God. I've known this in my heart all my life, and, while I have every intention of helping with community responsibilities, I don't believe that completing every Ruhi book known to man and being on every committee there is would be the best use of the talents and strengths God gave me. I have always preferred diversity and openness. I respect all faiths, races and walks of life, and will always do my absolute best to bring them together. I simply don't lean towards the school of thought that assemblies, committees and organizations are required to help people. Sometimes being an example to others does more than all the fundraisers one person could handle.
That's the way I see it.
Naturally, my heart took about two days of pain before it was hopeful again. It's a mixed blessing, recovering from heartbreak like I do. While I know myself ridiculously well, I know it looks to everyone else like I'm constantly rebounding.
Today, though, I stopped worrying about that.
I met someone, admittedly through the internet, who I really thought would be no more than a friend. With such a rough week, by Friday night, all I wanted was to be around people again. So, Mr. Nice Guy, with whom I share an MOS (military occupational specialty) and a great deal of mutual acquaintances, as it turned out, invited me to come over to watch a movie. Had we not known so many of the same people and been talking so much like old friends, I wouldn't have agreed. Over the span of a weekend, I realized how good it felt to be close to someone, to be accepted and held and talked to. Mr. Nice Guy is anything but "my type". He is so goofy and nerdy it astounds me, thick glasses and all, but I have never relaxed around someone so much so fast... There was no question of him disrespecting or putting me down. We clicked, immediately and completely, and I find myself laughing and smiling constantly with him... I can talk to him honestly and openly about things, even things that involve other men. I feel safe and cared for and absolutely wanted when I'm with him. He's every bit as affectionate and goofy and sweet as anybody I could have dreamed. He is, in some ways, my opposite, though, as he has a shy streak a mile wide and is far less verbal with his affection than I am. His compliments often come out awkwardly and frequently only once he's had the time to think through it all and phrase it just the way he wants. It all amuses impulsive, open, outgoing me, but it also takes me to a level of flattered that astounds me. He is what every mother dreams her daughter will bring home, and what every father wants his son to be. He understands mechanics, likes guns, is big and solid and muscular, incredibly smart, and has great manners. He's also startlingly observant, which is something that will, inevitably, throw me. He sees my reactions to every word and movement, and responds, without being asked, to all of them.
Madman has a way of making me feel broken and damaged, as, I suspect, he takes some amount of his identity from what pains he's experienced. I don't want to do that. I don't want to be the person who holds on to the past, though I think I have a bit too much up until now. I don't want to feel broken anymore, I've spent enough of my life trying to heal. It's time to start living again, and to stop trying to figure out what is wrong with me. I am human, I will never be perfect, and I'm okay with that.
I haven't attended any Baha'i community events in several months now. I sent a long, rather pointed email to a fellow Baha'i who consistently pushed me to do more with the community, and, several times, implicated that I hadn't done this/that/the other simply out of laziness or not wanting to. His idea of how we might best reach out to people and mine are clearly very different, but this is, frankly, a very conservative Baha'i community. I respect even the most strict tenets of my Faith, but I believe, even more strongly, in the message that has been forgotten and/or missed for so many centuries that is such a central focus to the Baha'i faith: LOVE ABOVE ALL ELSE. So long as I love my fellow man, and do my best to help and teach and guide others, I am doing right by God. I've known this in my heart all my life, and, while I have every intention of helping with community responsibilities, I don't believe that completing every Ruhi book known to man and being on every committee there is would be the best use of the talents and strengths God gave me. I have always preferred diversity and openness. I respect all faiths, races and walks of life, and will always do my absolute best to bring them together. I simply don't lean towards the school of thought that assemblies, committees and organizations are required to help people. Sometimes being an example to others does more than all the fundraisers one person could handle.
That's the way I see it.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The Devil In Her Eyes
The first time I met my paternal grandmother, she said something that should go down in the history books as involving physic powers:
"Boy, you can just see the devil in her eyes."
I tend to believe this may have been about the time my parents began considering "selling me to the gypsies". They did threaten me with such a fate later in life, to which I responded, "Really? I could go live with the gypsies?! When?!"
From there on in, it was pretty much them making bets (or, if you ask my dad, battling over 'dibs') on how long, exactly, I might live.
I have been raped twice- both times in vehicles, both my friends-of-friends.
I have broken my leg in three places, by jumping into a swimming pool- with no water in it. On a dare. And played soccer, climbed monkey bars, and beat the crap out of some boys with a half-leg cast and crutches.
I have had stitches more times than I could count.
I have been an alcoholic.
I worked for/ran with the carnival my first summer as an adult.
I moved away from home my first chance.... you know, besides getting kicked out.
I joined the Army.
I have 53 hours worth of tattoos, and counting.
At one point, I drank, smoked and dipped tobacco.
I swear like a frigging sailor, and it borders on uncontrollable.
I like blowing things up.
I set a quarter of my back yard on fire in fourth grade.
I almost got suspended-in Kindergarten- for hitting one of the boys. (Back.)
I convinced my sister there was a talking mongoose living in the walls of our cinder block home.
I still beat up on the boys every chance I get.
I joined the Army to be a medic mostly because it meant I would get to put needles in people and taunt them if they didn't like it. Oh, and because I couldn't think of any job crazier that women were allowed to do.
I lived in a hotel for a few months- the same hotel the head housekeeper got stabbed to death by one of the tenants while I was out at the mall.
My grandmother knew too much. Her brother was a historian for Salem and it's witch trials, and I can't help but believe that there's something a little spooky about our family in general. I've survived hell and back, and I'm not the least bit scared of death. I'm not afraid of heights, I'm not afraid of snakes, spiders, driving too fast, flying, or any of the other phobias people generally seem to have at least one of. I like knives, I like guns, and I'm perfectly okay with the idea that I could die any day.
I am happy, and I will, in one sense or another, survive anything this world has to throw at me. I may be high-strung some days, but, mostly, I'm just along for the ride.
I mean, who's going to hurt the girl with the devil in her eyes?
"Boy, you can just see the devil in her eyes."
I tend to believe this may have been about the time my parents began considering "selling me to the gypsies". They did threaten me with such a fate later in life, to which I responded, "Really? I could go live with the gypsies?! When?!"
From there on in, it was pretty much them making bets (or, if you ask my dad, battling over 'dibs') on how long, exactly, I might live.
I have been raped twice- both times in vehicles, both my friends-of-friends.
I have broken my leg in three places, by jumping into a swimming pool- with no water in it. On a dare. And played soccer, climbed monkey bars, and beat the crap out of some boys with a half-leg cast and crutches.
I have had stitches more times than I could count.
I have been an alcoholic.
I worked for/ran with the carnival my first summer as an adult.
I moved away from home my first chance.... you know, besides getting kicked out.
I joined the Army.
I have 53 hours worth of tattoos, and counting.
At one point, I drank, smoked and dipped tobacco.
I swear like a frigging sailor, and it borders on uncontrollable.
I like blowing things up.
I set a quarter of my back yard on fire in fourth grade.
I almost got suspended-in Kindergarten- for hitting one of the boys. (Back.)
I convinced my sister there was a talking mongoose living in the walls of our cinder block home.
I still beat up on the boys every chance I get.
I joined the Army to be a medic mostly because it meant I would get to put needles in people and taunt them if they didn't like it. Oh, and because I couldn't think of any job crazier that women were allowed to do.
I lived in a hotel for a few months- the same hotel the head housekeeper got stabbed to death by one of the tenants while I was out at the mall.
My grandmother knew too much. Her brother was a historian for Salem and it's witch trials, and I can't help but believe that there's something a little spooky about our family in general. I've survived hell and back, and I'm not the least bit scared of death. I'm not afraid of heights, I'm not afraid of snakes, spiders, driving too fast, flying, or any of the other phobias people generally seem to have at least one of. I like knives, I like guns, and I'm perfectly okay with the idea that I could die any day.
I am happy, and I will, in one sense or another, survive anything this world has to throw at me. I may be high-strung some days, but, mostly, I'm just along for the ride.
I mean, who's going to hurt the girl with the devil in her eyes?
Monday, June 6, 2011
This Moment For Life
A lot seems to have changed- quickly.
Someone I've been very close to, as a friend, who has listened to me whine and/or flirt about/with other men for the last two to four months (I've lost track of how long I've known him now) and I have finally started calling what we have a relationship. He confessed to having feelings for me the first time in a highly drunken manner, after being at the bar with me, and seeing me flirting with a bartender. Things with the bartender blew over quick fast and in a hurry, yet my friend stayed by my side. He'd seen my "slowly blooming relationship" shut itself down and restart itself a few times, and, well, I finally let it go once and for all. Initially, I thought that his professed interest in me was a drunken lonely man talking. Lately, though, we've been inseperable. Even when I was talking to someone else, he has been the person I've spent all my free time with. He's the person I tell things to, and the person I go to for help when I'm frustrated or overwhelmed- which has been more frequently than I'd like to admit.
Madman. That's what we'll call him.
One of our mutual friends, and his co-worker, said Saturday night, speaking to him, "Of all the people I know who are mad at life, you are my favorite."
It suits him.
He grew up in the same town as me, and not with an all-too-different family history. He's six months younger than me, and here we are, twenty five, and meeting in our hometown, after both having traveled the world. Go figure. Dad and he get along great, though they initially met long before I'd had any intentions of dating him. I've had feelings for Madman from the jump, but, well, I was scared. I suppose there's no shame in admitting that.
I've spent lots of time with the guys he works with, and am, to date, the only fellow Soldier to have met his best friend, a beautiful, petite Mexican girl who I'm relatively sure some of the guys think he made up. So, after plenty of other people asking if we were together, and me continually dodging the question or pointedly saying "No.", yesterday, I spilled my guts to him. I told him I just wanted to be his. He asked what I meant. I told him I didn't want to have to wonder if we were just friends who liked each other or if we were together, and that, if he wasn't ready, he didn't need to rush, but I wanted to be with him if that was something at some point he wanted, too. His response (all of this through text messaging, mind you) was very simple: "We r together." One of his good friends pointed out that it probably had a bit of a 'duh' tacked on their in his mind, and Madman later confirmed this to me when I asked him.
Madman isn't someone who dates much. At all. His longest relationship was 3 months long distance. We've already spent 2 months, at least, primarily focused on one another, if not technically "together". He's already stuck around more than twice as long as most people I've seen lately.
Saturday night was interesting for me. We went to a bar with a lot of his friends, and, as usual, I was the designated driver- and the only girl. I had no problem with this, and dressed up, even. I was in a good mood- until we got to the bar. I was not comfortable.
I began to rage at Madman over his lack of claiming me, and a passing, joking comment he'd made to one of the guys. When we had a moment alone, Madman's response to my sudden anger was very, very simple and very, very honest: "Don't do this. You know I don't understand this, or how to handle this. Tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it."
His incredibly simple statement threw me. It made me realize that I was about to repeat the cycle of running the moment I knew someone might last. I excused myself to the bathroom. I thought I was going to cry, but I didn't.
The lesson hit me like a lightning bolt in the middle of a beach-themed bar, as I sat in the stall, in my black leather mini-skirt and high-heeled boots:
I felt out of control of the situation. The only part of the situation I could control was what I had with Madman, and I needed to be back in control to feel safe.
I was messing up what had survived two months and plenty of chaos because I hadn't had words for my fear and anxiety.
Madman's reaction to my anger was so simple and straight-forward, it forced me back into myself, and made me see that he really had no intentions of doing anything wrong- and that I knew that. There was no denying to him that I knew he meant no harm. This man has put up with me screaming and crying and telling him things that I have no doubt he would have rather not heard, when none of it had anything to do with him. He'd told me once that, anything I needed, just tell him, and it was mine. This man wouldn't hurt me, and he knew that, and he knew I knew that. And he told me so.
He doesn't understand that showing me pictures of his female friends on facebook and talking about them might make me jealous. He doesn't understand it because I haven't told him. I haven't told him because, eventually, it occurred to me that he doesn't want to hurt me, he just wants to share this part of his life with me. He doesn't understand why I like to touch him and be touched so much, but he's stopped putting up his walls when I do it, and starting responding to my touch with his own, not because he likes public displays of affection, but because I told him how much it bothers me that he didn't. I don't doubt for a second that he has no idea that I'd like to get roses or have him run me a bubble bath or any other typically romantic things. I know he'll never think of it on his own. I also know that all I'd have to do is ask, and he would.
We don't use the word love. I don't think he's ever used that word with a girl, though I haven't asked, either. I know that the sudden urge to tell him I love him was the reason I had to step back and look at what our then-friendship really meant to me, and what I wanted from it. I know that it's there, and, well, I know I love him. Someday he'll come out of the blue and tell me he loves me. I can wait for that, for a change, because the reason it's going to be so incredible when he's ready to say it is because I think I've known it all along.
There's people who will read this that will be, at once, hurt by it and happy for me. I haven't forgotten you. I didn't write this one for you, though, I wrote it for me. Not because I care about you any less. Because I care about you- I love you- and always will.
I just can't keep living a life of apologies and deferred dreams.
What is meant to be will find a way, and, right now, this is what's meant to be.
I hope I still have a place in your heart and life.
Someone I've been very close to, as a friend, who has listened to me whine and/or flirt about/with other men for the last two to four months (I've lost track of how long I've known him now) and I have finally started calling what we have a relationship. He confessed to having feelings for me the first time in a highly drunken manner, after being at the bar with me, and seeing me flirting with a bartender. Things with the bartender blew over quick fast and in a hurry, yet my friend stayed by my side. He'd seen my "slowly blooming relationship" shut itself down and restart itself a few times, and, well, I finally let it go once and for all. Initially, I thought that his professed interest in me was a drunken lonely man talking. Lately, though, we've been inseperable. Even when I was talking to someone else, he has been the person I've spent all my free time with. He's the person I tell things to, and the person I go to for help when I'm frustrated or overwhelmed- which has been more frequently than I'd like to admit.
Madman. That's what we'll call him.
One of our mutual friends, and his co-worker, said Saturday night, speaking to him, "Of all the people I know who are mad at life, you are my favorite."
It suits him.
He grew up in the same town as me, and not with an all-too-different family history. He's six months younger than me, and here we are, twenty five, and meeting in our hometown, after both having traveled the world. Go figure. Dad and he get along great, though they initially met long before I'd had any intentions of dating him. I've had feelings for Madman from the jump, but, well, I was scared. I suppose there's no shame in admitting that.
I've spent lots of time with the guys he works with, and am, to date, the only fellow Soldier to have met his best friend, a beautiful, petite Mexican girl who I'm relatively sure some of the guys think he made up. So, after plenty of other people asking if we were together, and me continually dodging the question or pointedly saying "No.", yesterday, I spilled my guts to him. I told him I just wanted to be his. He asked what I meant. I told him I didn't want to have to wonder if we were just friends who liked each other or if we were together, and that, if he wasn't ready, he didn't need to rush, but I wanted to be with him if that was something at some point he wanted, too. His response (all of this through text messaging, mind you) was very simple: "We r together." One of his good friends pointed out that it probably had a bit of a 'duh' tacked on their in his mind, and Madman later confirmed this to me when I asked him.
Madman isn't someone who dates much. At all. His longest relationship was 3 months long distance. We've already spent 2 months, at least, primarily focused on one another, if not technically "together". He's already stuck around more than twice as long as most people I've seen lately.
Saturday night was interesting for me. We went to a bar with a lot of his friends, and, as usual, I was the designated driver- and the only girl. I had no problem with this, and dressed up, even. I was in a good mood- until we got to the bar. I was not comfortable.
I began to rage at Madman over his lack of claiming me, and a passing, joking comment he'd made to one of the guys. When we had a moment alone, Madman's response to my sudden anger was very, very simple and very, very honest: "Don't do this. You know I don't understand this, or how to handle this. Tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it."
His incredibly simple statement threw me. It made me realize that I was about to repeat the cycle of running the moment I knew someone might last. I excused myself to the bathroom. I thought I was going to cry, but I didn't.
The lesson hit me like a lightning bolt in the middle of a beach-themed bar, as I sat in the stall, in my black leather mini-skirt and high-heeled boots:
I felt out of control of the situation. The only part of the situation I could control was what I had with Madman, and I needed to be back in control to feel safe.
I was messing up what had survived two months and plenty of chaos because I hadn't had words for my fear and anxiety.
Madman's reaction to my anger was so simple and straight-forward, it forced me back into myself, and made me see that he really had no intentions of doing anything wrong- and that I knew that. There was no denying to him that I knew he meant no harm. This man has put up with me screaming and crying and telling him things that I have no doubt he would have rather not heard, when none of it had anything to do with him. He'd told me once that, anything I needed, just tell him, and it was mine. This man wouldn't hurt me, and he knew that, and he knew I knew that. And he told me so.
He doesn't understand that showing me pictures of his female friends on facebook and talking about them might make me jealous. He doesn't understand it because I haven't told him. I haven't told him because, eventually, it occurred to me that he doesn't want to hurt me, he just wants to share this part of his life with me. He doesn't understand why I like to touch him and be touched so much, but he's stopped putting up his walls when I do it, and starting responding to my touch with his own, not because he likes public displays of affection, but because I told him how much it bothers me that he didn't. I don't doubt for a second that he has no idea that I'd like to get roses or have him run me a bubble bath or any other typically romantic things. I know he'll never think of it on his own. I also know that all I'd have to do is ask, and he would.
We don't use the word love. I don't think he's ever used that word with a girl, though I haven't asked, either. I know that the sudden urge to tell him I love him was the reason I had to step back and look at what our then-friendship really meant to me, and what I wanted from it. I know that it's there, and, well, I know I love him. Someday he'll come out of the blue and tell me he loves me. I can wait for that, for a change, because the reason it's going to be so incredible when he's ready to say it is because I think I've known it all along.
There's people who will read this that will be, at once, hurt by it and happy for me. I haven't forgotten you. I didn't write this one for you, though, I wrote it for me. Not because I care about you any less. Because I care about you- I love you- and always will.
I just can't keep living a life of apologies and deferred dreams.
What is meant to be will find a way, and, right now, this is what's meant to be.
I hope I still have a place in your heart and life.
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