Sisyphus

I pushed and pushed and pushed and met no resistance and now I'm alone which is a very dangerous place for me to be.

And if I'm at the top of that hill right now and the only place for me to go is down....

December 6, 2009 - the conversation

It started as an argument. You said I don’t value you like I value them. You were wrong and I was upset that you hadn’t given me the credit I felt I deserve. It came down to my having to tell you what I didn’t want to tell you, what I haven’t wanted you to know for three years. And then I told you.

And your reaction was less than what I expected it to be. You weren’t upset, though not reciprocal. You in point of fact told me that you aren’t worth loving at all; that I should love someone who has more money, a car, a “good” job. You said you didn’t have a future, but that you wanted me to be happy with someone. I was so frustrated. Crying from both eyes, as you noticed.

You discouraged me, then kissed me twice, sweetly. Without precedent, and considering the subject matter, I’m now more confused than ever. It’s difficult to explain the relationship to anyone who doesn’t know us both, and more so to anyone who does. They believe firmly that we’ve been beyond that line, that we’ve been “involved” and just never told anyone. That any of the so-called drama between us is of my making and I’m being sensitive.

I’m stuck in this place between what you did and did not say, what you did and did not do, where we have and have not been together. These pieces haphazardly thrown together with your speaking in euphemism and incomplete sentences. Bundles of nerves all triggered and forced to numb. I suppose I’m happy to have finally told you, but your radio silence is a regret. I’d hoped, however naively, that there would be a fundamental change in our relationship that would ultimately keep it exactly the same, if less murky.

But you’re quiet, on the other end of a perhaps unreceived text message. It’s convenient. And tricky. And painful. But there is room for plausible deniability, which is useful.

a bargain

I traded my friends for this depression and I'm feeling like I got a bill of goods.

toxicity

The things I am doing to myself are poisoning me, but I can't stop because I'm in control and I like it.

my pride is going to destroy me

Why can't I apologise for this?

Why can't I just say, "I'm so sorry. You're right"?

Why not this time?

Because I'm ashamed of myself?

I have this immediate refusal to make amends here. Like to do it would be to give up some power, and I don't want to want to keep this power, but I do. And I'm holding on to it so closely, I can't even see what is slipping away, what I'm losing over these stupid things I have done. My knuckles are clenched white and my eyes are closed tight and I'm screaming to block out the sounds everyone is making.

I take every opportunity to make it about how *I* have been slighted. How *I* have been hurt. How *I* am the one who deserves the apology.

My stubbornness won't let go though.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

challenge accepted

I feel like I'm on a mission to punish anyone who has the audacity to care about me.

Like I'll make them sorry for ever having bothered.

I'll make them regret it.

I'm not sure if it's to actually protect them from my instability or if I'm just proving myself right. That it's so easy to be rid of the people who "didn't really want to be there in the first place," all I have to do is be a little bit mean, a little bit insensitive, a little bit ambivalent to their presence and they'll just leave.

post script

The next time I feel suicidal, I'm certainly not going to say it out loud.

patterns

I have a habit of pushing people away just to see if I can.

I will justify and make excuses for my behaviour and wait to see who sticks around to call me on it and who shrugs and walks away.

I've always had this talent of alienation.

And I give up on people so quickly and easily.

I keep thinking, "Whatever, I made you leave because then I'm in control. It's not like you were going to stay anyway."

So far this year, I've gotten rid of: 2 family members; both of my parents; 2 friends; a third friend is on the way. We have a lunch on Wednesday and that will be the middle of the beginning of the end.

If someone were to call me on it, what would I do?

Probably lash out and push harder, actually.

Any kind of vulnerability is unacceptable.

Never tell anyone anything.

Never confess to anything.

Never say anything to anyone that cannot be said to everyone.

Embarassed? Run away.

Angry? Say it out loud.

Hurt? Say it out loud and run away.

People get one shot with me. ONE.

If someone breaks my trust, it's never ever coming back.

I forgive, but I never forget. Honestly, I'm not sure what I do is forgiveness.

It's probably more beneficence, which ultimately keeps me in control.

I gift them with my forgiveness, but it's conditional. I don't think that's the way it's supposed to be.

I am a giver of gifts of strings.

After years of trusting people who let me down over and over and over again, I stopped trusting anyone.

I created a facade of independence, of righteousness, of strength.

But I'm in a forced solitude, I'm a hypocrite, I'm weak.

I believe no one will ever find me worthy of anything so I act like no one's worthy of me.

Still, I strive for my own version of perfection.

I eat less.

I eat less and less and less and hide it behind a "diet" that actually seems to be working.

I'm falling back into the pattern of only being able to control myself, so I do it to an extreme.

It's like returning to a house you moved out of 14 years ago, when you said you'd never set foot in there again. And then you're reminded of the comfort and the smells and then the memories overwhelm you and you're back in that spot of 15 years ago when everything was fine but not really.

Before you left it.

Before you changed.

And now I'm the same again.

And I was nothing then.

I was wasted on this. I was a waste.

to whom should i be true

I made the mistake of telling too many people about this.

I should have kept it closer.

Right now, I'm torn between writing what I feel and fearing that it will be seen.

Part of me doesn't care who I piss off with what I put here. But another part wants to write something soft and lovely so no one is offended.

Aaah, I think I just made a decision.