Still excited about my story. Have an antagonist and a protagonist. Actually 3 antagonists (like the holy trinity). I kind of want to make it a fairy tale. But I don’t know if it is. I’m just going to work on the characters right now and see where they lead me. The protagonist is the hardest right now – I can feel her trying to come out but the 3 antagonists are crowding her. This is hard. But I’m still excited.
I’m excited about Anne Lamott. I’m going to see her on Saturday and I’m just ridiculously overjoyed to get to hear her speak in person. I so identify with Anne because she’s a mess just like me and she’s open about it. But she’s a strong mess, and I just think she’s someone this planet is lucky to have walking around on it, thinking thoughts out loud about how to live an imperfect but good and kind life here.
Today is rainy. We’ve had storms roll through and more are coming. Tornadic event type storms. I always wonder what happens to the 2nd and 3rd floor apartment dwellers if the tornado warning gets ignited for this area. I’ve lived here going on 2 years and it’s never happened, so I don’t know…do my upstairs neighbors suddenly show up at my door asking to hide out in my bathroom with me, Miss M, and Quinn the cat? I’ve already determined this is the safest place here. The apartment people didn’t give me any warnings or instructions about where to go or what to expect from the people above me in an event like this, but I supposed I should go clean out the litter box and tidy up just in case. And prepare my remarks about their very loud stomping around above me well past 10 PM at night. And, like, do they have a trampoline or something in their kitchen? And a sewing machine sweatshop factory? What ARE those sounds???
I’ve been angry. I’ve been writing about wolves because I’ve been angry. I did run into wolves, two of them – different natures, but both wolves nonetheless – I do NOT take that back. But the one wolf. You guys. Jesus. This is hard. Can anybody tell me how in the world someone can spend 2 years telling you they genuinely care about you, use the word love, then suddenly turn off the light switch? I made a choice to get really real and I was the one who chose to go. The truth is hard to hear. It was said to me on the phone: the truth is hard to hear. But I chose to go because I was also told to set my boundaries, stop trying to please, and figure out what I want. (What I want is peace. What I want is to be happy. What I want is to stop judging and being angry and feeling hurt. What I want is for you to come through for me. What I want is to stop wondering if you’re playing games. What I want is to stop having fights picked with me. What I want is no more gaslighting – I’m not THAT much of an over thinker; I’m overthinking because you’re being sketchy. What I want is something meant for ME, not someone else. What I want is to not feel fucked around with.) (But when you tell someone your boundaries, what you want, when you figure it out and they get mad about it…that does seem to prove they never really wanted you to have boundaries or know what you want or figure yourself out. They just wanted you to fit inside their box. They did have rules. They did have expectations. And they were trying to control, no matter how much they said they didn’t have rules…by playing nonchalant, appearing not to control, and then getting mad when you started getting hurt and feeling upset…that’s a form of control. Don’t argue with me, I researched it. And dammit I’m mad. But also: man, we’re a tricky species.)
Both C and my sister in law say I need to build a big, high wall around my heart. That right now, I have like several small concentric circles of trust walls…someone gets over wall #1, they can easily hurdle over wall #2. Hop, leap, jump…BAM, they’re in. What I need is a fantastic wall of hard bricks, and no one gets over it until they prove – by their actions over a long period of time – that they’re worthy of being inside that wall. And they can’t just keep offering excuses when they fuck up or make it seem like I’ve got a serious problem with suffering or over thinking. No. They have to come through on things. Actions must match words. As a writer, I do believe this. I know how easy it is to manipulate people with words because I know how to manipulate them too, and I’m easily manipulated by them. I literally can feel words falling over me sometimes like waves from a waterfall. And I love this; I love the feeling of what words can do to me…but I guess I do care more about actions at the end of the day.
My love languages are physical affection and quality time. If you hold me and spend time with me, I’m yours. You don’t have to buy me fancy flowers; my favorites are dandelions. You don’t have to take me out to fancy dinners; I like picnics too. You don’t have to spend money on me…I just like to be with SOMEONE. I remember once about a year ago my wolf said that makes me an easy target. I remember telling him about my love of handpicked wildflower bouquets, not store bought roses and he mused, “Well, you’re an easy mark.” And now I wonder, I’m spending a great deal of time wondering: was I just a “mark?” Was I just an easy mark. A bit of amusement. I don’t know. Wolves are horrific people. I suspect he’s just gone on about his business, and if he reads this blog it delights him to know he’s in my head still. Eventually he won’t be. But right now…what an asshole.
I do know I’ll be okay. Time will heal. I got a story out of it. And I’m working really hard to get back to who I was before all of this happened. But the nostalgia is hitting hard now, the stages of grief…I’m mourning, and I’m moving through them. Yesterday I had one foot in Acceptance, one foot in Anger. Today I’m waaay back to Shock and Denial, and just really knee deep in Sadness. I wonder where my wolf is at. What stage is he in. Does he have any feelings. Peanut butter and chocolate…my wolf said he views friendships as peanut butter and chocolate. Good separate or apart. I dunno. I kind of feel like I’m honey. Honey and tea. You can have them separate, but once they’re together…good luck getting out of that shit.
This is why I think I do like cats best. Love dogs. Dogs rock. Fletcher, my friend Robin’s dog, is my doggy boyfriend. Can’t wait to see his cute doggy face and kiss it again. But I do like cats so much…they make you work for their love. They make you prove, from your actions, that you actually do care about them. My friend Tawni says they don’t accept just anyone with a biscuit in their hand, they hang back and really watch you a bit before they decide to accept you. There’s actually a lot we can learn from cats.
Hope writing will heal me and pull me through it – a sweet friend told me today Rob Bell says not worry about how many times we talk about our stories…telling our stories over and over help us release them, help us release the toxins. And so I will. Here, on social media, in person, and in story. It’ll feel good the day I can wake up and not care about people who never really valued me, just go live and be in the moment with people who do.
It’s been a hard two years. I anticipate a challenging two more. But I have a story, I want to write, and so I’ll go focus on that as much as possible and see where I land. (Will definitely avoid the peanut butter from now on.)