(no subject)
Up late
Thinking about things with the fellow. Well, not all of it. I've been doing a good little bit of research of other things today, too. There's only so far I can go in figuring something out, without having a lot of new data, after all. And, yeah--there's been some, for sure. But things are at a relative standstill, compared to how I usually process this sort of deal.
Not that this has gone like any of my prior, anyway. It's kind of refreshing, really. I have time to do the other things I need to do, too. Like school-stuffs, wholly, and interacting with friends and other people--meeting and GETTING TO KNOW other people, even, rather than being glued to someone's side, constantly.
I'm totally digging those latter two parts.
I've met so many new folks, recently. It's been utterly phenomenal! Pretty much like when I was bartending in the Quarter and had an ongoing stream of world-travelers coming in and ending up staying for hours just to converse. Because I was genuinely interested (and interesting, apparently--those who wander through all the many words here might not think so, granted...it's decidedly one-sided, the whole 'journaling'-bit.. lol). And they enjoyed sharing, just as I enjoyed gaining a bit of perspective from each and every one. Insight into their many, many varied experiences. From bank president, to media relations lady, to hotel management who had integral role in some post-K events, to heads of various organizations, celebrities, seasoned European physicists and engineers, homeless kids who'd hopped trains to get out of their prior living situations, alcoholics, drug addicts, dealers, gamblers, a boat captain, ex-convicts, those presumably in hiding, tour guides, tour company owner, bartenders, bar managers, bar owners, restauranteurs, enterpreneurs, computer whizzes, skateboarders, a dude who called himself Gary (we were having a rather...esoteric conversation/discussion/debate...I think I mentioned a book by Ram Dass I'd picked up, which our discourse reminded me of...trying to find something about him, now--said he'd had conversations with the dude...can't entirely remember what he looked like, though).
Yeah, anyway. People. I love them. Sometimes they vex me. Sometimes they annoy me. Sometimes I annoy myself, though.
But I have time for that. And it's friggin awesome. I have time to connect with others. I've learned so much, already, and given that I've had time to sit and get to know a good few of them, it's gotten such that I can kinda let 'em know I love them, too.
Is good.
Only difficulty is that a good handful of them are male, and a good handful of those are lonely. And that can tend toward fixations, due to having made a connection. It's more complicated than I care to really think about, because...I don't always know what to do about it. Taking the direct approach doesn't always work so well--sometimes it's taken really badly, and I don't want to hurt people...and sometimes it's taken as incentive to try harder, and that just further complicates matters.
Amber somehow deals with these things really well. Only, she actually sits and flirts, as opposed to just having heartfelt conversation and feeling free to joke around. And somehow she's able to keep guys at arms' length, without them being all upset over it. I...well, I don't know how exactly to go about that sort. Nice...charming...but not inviting or encouraging romantic affection.
It just gets so tricky, trying to love people who are lonely, sometimes. Feelings get hurt. ..which, sometimes is necessary for growth, but...argh. I'd just rather not have to deal with it.
I'd rather just be able to interact without having to worry about people thinking I'm available in that sense. Because I'm not. And not just when I'm not already otherwise engaged. It's just...well, it's always been a matter of being completely intent upon refraining from that sort of interaction unless I make the decision in advance. Sometimes snap decisions have been made to engage in a momentary flings, but it's not my thing. I've experimented with it, time to time...out of curiosity, loneliness, boredom, knowledge that it wasn't really a choice, and out of a sick desire to dominate, to adventure. I had my wild times, yeah, but it never went over particularly well--feelings are too much a part of the process and I get too paranoid, even protecting myself. Which...yeah...that's always been a big issue.
I got a bit turned sideways a number of weeks ago and decided to take advantage of a guy who'd been attempting for nearly a month to manipulate that sort of exchange (plus, what I assume was an attempt to get me interested in going out with him, on the whole). Was feeling 'the need,' as it were, only to go out and overhear that guy was 'going out with' chica. Didn't sit well. So I made that call, later in the night. The guy was selfish enough that he tried to 1.make it such that I couldn't leave without his assistance (living in middle of nowhere down a few turns...having told me he was "just up the road"), 2. lied per omission, in that he lives with his mom and stepdad...which I only found out about by looking around the bathroom and seeing prescription and asking about it--intended to have me sleep over and have to deal with them, in the morning, thus (in this area, things are generally as that I'm assuming it would) FORCING a relationship, per fact of having already met his folks (people have some ass-backwards logic, sometimes)
3. thinking I was drunk enough not to ask for protection 4. assuming that I wouldn't notice when he tried to take it off and go on, regardless. Hell no.
That is more than enough of that crap. MORE than enough.
I don't remember people being so darned manipulative, last time I was single! Heck, listening to chica pull all her moves...flirting heavily with other guys while he's around, -telling him- she's going to take something of his then get offended when he refuses, constantly calling him out for non-existent stuff (blaming things), and getting all pissy when he's not constantly at her beck-and-call (maybe it's not all the time?, but I have noticed it)...plus, as of last night, giving him the guilt trip from hell for allowing one of their MUTUAL friends to go to his apartment with him to sleep off the drunk...when she ended up BEING WITH THE TWO OF THEM, thus KNOWING nothing untoward was occurring. She apparently went off on him and on HER. People talk about these things, and I just happen to listen to pretty much every conversation within range of my hearing. It was so odd, hearing this woman talk about how sweet chica is, how much guy cares for her, and then going on in no little amount of confusion to describe how chica way-laid them both for doing NOTHING.
And the two of them, according to guy...aren't even a serious couple, at this point. Have been getting there, certainly, but...Wow.
I'm not sure how bad it's gonna have to get before he realizes she's never gonna be okay with who he is. It upsets him that he's so congenial with -EVERYONE-, but I'm sure it rankles most with women...she doesn't like sitting by herself, from what I can tell--I've engaged her in conversation every time I've seen her alone at the bar (being alone, myself, most of these times)...dunno. Everyone seems to have a good opinion of her, but not a very strong one. As though she's not really someone they know well, which seems odd in that I've been told by bar manager that she's been coming around, dedicatedly, for at least six months.
Maybe she doesn't want to know people? I don't really know.
I wish I could remember more about having met her back when I was dating Walt. I was so painfully shy/insecure that I definitely didn't usually talk to people, but there were a few of the guys who were nice enough to me that I eventually became somewhat comfortable around them...one of whom was her boyfriend. He was always full of smiles and positive words--made me feel better about being there. But she wouldn't talk to me, from what I remember. She didn't come around often, but she did come around. And...from what I seem to remember, having been spurned from acknowledgment once, I didn't even try to talk to her. The whole 'cold stare, looking down the nose at me'-kind of thing which I got from some of the cheerleaders, too. Ones who were fine to talk to me, sometimes, but more often than not pretended I didn't exist. So, I just let them alone, too.
But I do seem to remember being somewhere...at a skate park opening in Beckley...where I was in -no way- willing to skate, given that the park was packed and I was so little advanced...trying to strike up a conversation with her there, and I think she actually left. So I went away, and she came back.
My sister made the point that maybe she was just really shy. I don't know. I was really shy, but I was at least nice to people. Just...the memories are so very vague that I'm not even sure they're real. I hate that about so many of my early memories, but I was in such torment it was better -not- to remember most everything than to have it weigh on my mind alongside whatever pressing concerns were actually occurring.
I look back sometimes, taking into consideration what one of my best friends has told me things looked like during all that...remembering also some of the particular instances which led up to becoming accustomed to the treatment...and I can only wonder at how bad it actually looked. With the way Walt treated me--I had no name, other than 'bitch,' and he used to make jokes (which actually made those others uncomfortable--some actually spoke up for me, time to time) at my expense...tell me to do stuff which was degrading (thankfully not sexually so, or at least not until the end and even then, not nearly as bad as it could've been) just to show them I'd do it. Stupid, piddly shit. And I took it. Every bit of it.
And the choking and...yeah...stuff, when we were alone, too.
It was just so bad at home, then. Church had pretty much fallen apart for me--they all thought I was weird for getting so into everything. Then mom and dad always fighting, then mom refusing to leave her room except to yell at us and hurt us while dad wasn't around...and then she stopped leaving her room, at all, and only called us to tell us what to do. Mostly me, though. No one else was really up to it, I think. And I was the oldest, so...it was as it had to be. So, yeah. At least a couple times a day, getting yelled at for any manner of things. Made to feel utterly worthless because I forgot the salt or didn't come up quickly enough, or hadn't swept, or cleaned the living room or the kitchen...or done the dishes...although never the laundry. Dad was exacting about his clothes, which is why I'm assuming she never got down to delegating the laundry.
Everything else, though. Picking up and dropping off siblings. Helping them with homework. Keeping the house clean (which, thankfully, there was usually a part-time housekeeper...I think...I can't even really remember--it's all such a dark blotch). I don't remember whether I cooked, or how food was accomplished. Maybe that was what the housekeeper did. I don't know. Only that everything feel all to hell, and from what John told me, years later...as an outsider who visited very infrequently...I was running the house..only he didn't realize it was always with many threats hanging over my head.
So, yeah. Walt was pretty much externalization of the internalization of my mom's voice. I was always beating myself up, anyway, so it was actually a relief to have someone else do it to such an extreme that it overwhelmed the internal derision. Yeah, I'd already accepted that I couldn't do anything right. I'd already accepted that, despite that, I was still something to be bragged about--not proud of, necessarily...just bragged about. I'd be in the same room, sometimes, when she would do that...it always made me feel so isolated, so utterly and completely alone and insufficient...so mechanical.
Likewise, I'd already accepted that I was basically property. Having been told so many times over the years that the purpose for having me was to do chores like those, so she wouldn't have to...yeah, years later, that it was only a joke was mentioned, but it put me in my place. Which, I'm glad it afforded me humility. I am. Even what-with Walt, taking it to such a level as to tell me he was going to get me in shape to make porn of me to sell. I blindly accepted it, because it wasn't my call to make, as to what 'i' "should" do. Thankfully, it never got to that point.
But, so many things. And dad stopped speaking to me, after my first suicide attempt...a year into the relationship with Walt. As he's told me many times since, "He put me in God's hands." Which...well enough, but it really just further alienated me from a home I'd so long been terrified of. Dad had been my only point of strength, really. He just wasn't ever around. Worked -all- the time, even when he was home...in his own room in the basement, which we were not to disturb him in (probably had something to do with the stash of porn).
Other things, with that, I could mention...but I won't. Similar to one of the reasons it's sometimes so difficult to deal with living with granny. You never really get over having certain things happen. No matter whether the intent was innocent or not. No matter the extent to which things went or didn't. Just, all it takes is that moment of awareness to spark discomfort and refusal to stop.
Of childhood, I wish I'd known better than to treat Amber like such shit. Tabby and I did give her hell. We resented her for not having to deal with the stuff we did. Because she didn't. She never did, as far as we've talked.
And I wholly regret some of the things I put Tabby through, too. Out of my own desperation, really, but there's no excuse for mistreating someone you're supposed to love.
I regret withdrawing from J.T. as I did. He called me mom for a number of years of his youth, and then one particularly frightful dream so terrified me that I could hardly bear to be around him. I told mom about it once, the week before she died. I don't know if I've told any of the rest of my family. I can't remember.
I wish we could all be together again. The four of us. Play another game of our improvisational Monopoly--making it last till dawn, even now that Tabby no longer is banker (and has fessed up to what we all knew..that she constantly stole from the bank). We were a good team, all in all. Even in the midst of a good deal of chaos, those last ten years before mom and dad finally divorced...after he'd left her, once. During their screaming, glass breaking fights prior, the four of us vowed to completely screw up the weddings if they divorced and the two of them ever tried to marry anyone else.
I remember that one, in particular. The worst. Just in the kitchen, as the four of us were playing in the living room floor...and the screaming escalated, and I ushered them out of the living room, into the Tv room, doing what I could to soothe J.T. and reassure Amber, while remaining on watch that they wouldn't come...that mom wouldn't come and hurt any of us. Because I'd have had to stand in the way.
I was either eight or nine, then. But I'd already gotten to the point where I did what I could to step in, whenever she started to get out of hand. Tabby took care of herself, for the most part--she'd been dealing with it for nearly as long as me, and had her own way of bearing it. Amber...to an extent, also--she'd start crying before a hand was raised, and that would usually gain her sanctuary. J.T., though, was a deer in headlights. He'd turn red and just start to tear up, and I couldn't bear it. I'd step in, whenever I saw it happening. I think with the others, too.
The last time she raised a hand to us, though, was when I was...either twelve or thirteen--can't remember. I'd begged permission to go outside for a while, just to be outside. Was refused. I decided to sneak out, anyway--it was such a nice day out...fall, cool but not cold. I lost track of time and she caught me coming back in. Started screaming at me, I turned to go up the stairs, she grabbed me and turned me around. I was just over her height, standing on the first stair. She continued screaming, I didn't say anything.
She slapped me...hard...across the face...from what I recall. I know it knocked the glasses off of my face. Tabby and Amber were watching, I think. One of them told me I slapped her back. I really don't remember. I just remember that it was too much. And I kind of blacked out, and next I know I was getting my glasses and went to my room.
Dad didn't know about that, until recently. He claims not to've known how bad things were, on the whole. Not sure I believe him.
He should've known, given as rough as I was with the others. They had a talk with me when I was five about how I didn't know my own strength, that I couldn't hit Amber or Tabby like I had been or they'd get hurt. -Really- hurt. And I didn't want that. So I tried to stop. I didn't do as badly as I had, after that...but I wasn't able to get my anger in check until a LONG time after that. And even then, there were moments.
There still are, I guess. Amber's the last person I physically attacked out of anger. But even then, my strength was held very much in check. I wanted to hurt her (hell, it was in my head to do worse than that)...but I couldn't bring myself to really put the full force of my strength behind my actions. Just enough to let her know there was no amount of pain she could cause that would stop me. When she stopped trying, I stopped. And I regretted it all, immediately. Dad had me taken before the Juvenile Prosecutor for that--dude was kinda pissed about it, said it was a family matter that should've been dealt with at home. Which, if the guy had had any idea of what things had been like at home, he might've taken it upon himself to call in another agency, entirely.
I wonder sometimes how it is that there really was no follow up, after my first hospitalization. There were folks from the services at the hospital saying they were required by law to do so, given what had happened, but if they'd made any note of what had been going on at home...I can't imagine they'd have been able to, in good conscience, not step in. Guess that's one of the benefits of growing up with parents so revered by the community...when you need help and can't ask for it, yourself, no one would believe you anyway.
Mom always used to tell us we'd better pray to God the cops got to us before she did, if we ever called on her. We were too terrified of her to question that. She never broke any bones, though. Some skin, maybe. Maybe some bruises. Definitely hand prints. Loss of some hair, here and there. Just little stuff, yeah. Nothing a pair of long shorts or decent length shirt wouldn't cover.
I was dead-set against having children...against getting married...for the longest time, because of my experiences growing up.
But I've seen enough loving couples, now, to know it's not all bad--to know it can actually be REALLY good, given the right people. And I've worked myself out of that mentality--no longer beat myself up, I love me for who I am (even as a lot of folks think I'm weird as hell and don't understand half of what I say, presumably because my way of looking at the world is so..different) and I'm happy with who I am...I'm happy with my life, even as there are ups and downs. I know that, and I've been working evermore towards finding someone to complement it. Bit by bit, there've been noticeable improvements. I still lack a bit of motivation, granted...or maybe focus or direction...because motivation has returned, in droves, lately (sooooo much research, reflection, writing, interaction, hobby-stuffs, etc)...but the potential for grasping it is most certainly there...here, just within reach. And then, there are so many personal projects to work on--especially of who I am and the things which I yet want to be...the ways I want to be, and things I want to figure out and apply to my own ways.
And, as far as children go--I came to terms with the fact that I would like to have one (or two, really), about five years ago. Didn't very much admit it to myself, but it was there. I'd still just been terrified at the idea of putting my children/child through what I went through, from my family (as all the research shows that people from abusive households are the most likely to perpetuate abuse)...but I'm so much stronger than I used to be. Granted, I'm 'odd,' by most people's standards...and it's taken me a while to get to the point where I really enjoy interacting with children (that statement is totally gonna ruin my reputation.. lol ...NOT!--what the heck is a reputation worth, anywho, if I can't revise?)..but I do like kids, and I do enjoy being in the position of caregiver. Used to just take care of animals...and my siblings (poorly, the latter)...but I've been able to take part in the first year and a half of my niece's life, to the extent that I know it's something I can do. Without being a complete monster. With love. And, yes, I'm sure there'll be irritation...but, with love. Heck, even living with granny is a testament to that. As much as she intentionally vexes me sometimes, I still generally hold my peace. I've gotten to the point, at least, where I don't just let her talk to me as though I'm worthless, however. I won't abide that. No one should be expected to. That sort of under-handed emotional manipulation is the darkest. And it's one of the reasons I worry about guy, with chica. Her attempts at placing blame at his feet for the most inane of things is in line with that sort of attempt...to gain ability to manipulate emotions. I'm glad he hasn't succumbed, and I do wonder (with a great deal of hope) how he's dealing with her bit about "How could you do this to me?" from last night. Because that's an even more sinister version.
But he's so (surprisingly and Wonderfully!) observant and adept at interpretation, otherwise prior attempts at manipulation wouldn't so readily be disbanded. I just...don't know to what extent that all is a conscious process, on his part. No matter.
But, yeah...kids and marriage (yeah, yeah--I've been putting them in order backwards since sixth grade, for which I was taken to the side by the teacher...why stop now?). Someday. With someone who can keep up with me enough as to be challenged, whom I can keep up with enough as to be challenged. Someone I can share with, without having to but because I want to and because they're insight is so intriguing.
Completely the same and yet wholly different. We were both right, as it turns out.
(That rarely happens, hm?)
I write so darned much, but I enjoy piecing these things together, from having been apart so long. The pieces of me, yeah.
Dunno what's next. No idea.
Just kind of intrigued at the idea of the way things -might- be playing out. Not sure in any way, but one possibility presented itself to me, last night. Subtlety in body language is such an...interesting thing.
If we'd leaned into one another any closer, we would have been wholly embracing, really. Seated, yes...but practically resting our heads on one another's shoulders. In...instance, perhaps..I did certainly feel his stubble against my...was it my neck?, my cheek?...my ear?...for a moment.. Or maybe a couple different ones. It was...oh, so precious to me. And I don't know if I touched him. I so wanted to rest my hand upon his thigh for just a moment, just...in some distended hope that he might place his over mine, in shield of our bodies. But, no. His shoulder, his upper arm...perhaps his back? I don't know..I can't remember. It was all too swift and far too brief, but potent and so very intimate, nonetheless.
Talking about just nearly next to nothing. Just nearly. A song. A drink. My confusion (Why is it I have such weird interpretations of the things he tells me? I can readily understand once he corrects me, but my mind is usually coming in from the complete opposite direction.). His exhaustion. And it was brief, but it was beautiful. Only a few song's worth of time together. Until some particular others came in, and he needed to not be there sitting and talking with me in that fashion. I even played at what it would be like to feel jealous for most of a song or so. It was okay, but...really didn't have the motivation for it, given...well, just given the way this feels. It's all in the details, really. Had I not had that course earlier in the day...being told explicitly how you are to hold a child in your lap--across the lap, not against you...and seen how lightly, nearly not, touching. And then the slight shake of head, swift look of consternation, and bit of...stretch indicating prior discomfort, I might have wondered, still. But I did see those things.
And, yeah, the vast majority of the world would consider me cracked-out for placing such emphasis on the most minute bit of exchanges as posture, gesture, and flashes of expression...as opposed to of the overall presentation...but it's as it is. And whether he even realizes he's communicating these things, he most certainly is. So, whichever way. I'm just not used to getting these sorts of messages. I'm not used to reading them and understanding them, in relation to myself.
It usually takes somebody to hit me over the head with a darned...well, I don't know--a 2x4 certainly isn't hefty enough... ...cement block, perhaps?...as to get me to pay attention to romantic cues, and even then, it's usually only the most overt which I'll even make any notice of. Because that's all they're aware of, I think, so how would it be fair to either me or them to look any deeper?
I figure it's probably how I know with a moment of seeing someone as to whether there's compatibility, though.
It's just...so odd...finding someone who communicates so very wholly, so effectively. And I wonder where it comes from, for him. I think a lot of it for me (as I'd written a couple months back) is spending so much time in the comfort of the company of animals (who do almost exclusively communicate in this fashion)...but also, so much time in thought alone, and also...really, I think the house I grew up in had a lot to do with it--had to be aware of any indication that anger was forthcoming, at all costs.
I wonder what got him there. Someday I hope to find out. Not out of blatant curiosity, for once, but because I want to know more about him. Just because it's him, rather than because he's an "interesting specimen." Sheesh, okay, now I understand what the hell Gill was talking about when me mentioned that, of me...thinking it, initially, about me. He was just a bit...jaded, though, by his past. Tormented, ultimately, which is why I ended up ushering him outside so he could cry for a moment (talking to someone who truly cares and listens seems to have that effect on people who are suffering...I'm glad to be able to listen, for that--it does help to know someone cares...just, unfortunately, not everyone can afford to let it come out, at a given moment or risk collapse.)
In any case, I'd written just a tad more, but it got lost in livejournal's being craptastic. So, yeah. Enough noted, for now.
Thinking about things with the fellow. Well, not all of it. I've been doing a good little bit of research of other things today, too. There's only so far I can go in figuring something out, without having a lot of new data, after all. And, yeah--there's been some, for sure. But things are at a relative standstill, compared to how I usually process this sort of deal.
Not that this has gone like any of my prior, anyway. It's kind of refreshing, really. I have time to do the other things I need to do, too. Like school-stuffs, wholly, and interacting with friends and other people--meeting and GETTING TO KNOW other people, even, rather than being glued to someone's side, constantly.
I'm totally digging those latter two parts.
I've met so many new folks, recently. It's been utterly phenomenal! Pretty much like when I was bartending in the Quarter and had an ongoing stream of world-travelers coming in and ending up staying for hours just to converse. Because I was genuinely interested (and interesting, apparently--those who wander through all the many words here might not think so, granted...it's decidedly one-sided, the whole 'journaling'-bit.. lol). And they enjoyed sharing, just as I enjoyed gaining a bit of perspective from each and every one. Insight into their many, many varied experiences. From bank president, to media relations lady, to hotel management who had integral role in some post-K events, to heads of various organizations, celebrities, seasoned European physicists and engineers, homeless kids who'd hopped trains to get out of their prior living situations, alcoholics, drug addicts, dealers, gamblers, a boat captain, ex-convicts, those presumably in hiding, tour guides, tour company owner, bartenders, bar managers, bar owners, restauranteurs, enterpreneurs, computer whizzes, skateboarders, a dude who called himself Gary (we were having a rather...esoteric conversation/discussion/debate...I think I mentioned a book by Ram Dass I'd picked up, which our discourse reminded me of...trying to find something about him, now--said he'd had conversations with the dude...can't entirely remember what he looked like, though).
Yeah, anyway. People. I love them. Sometimes they vex me. Sometimes they annoy me. Sometimes I annoy myself, though.
But I have time for that. And it's friggin awesome. I have time to connect with others. I've learned so much, already, and given that I've had time to sit and get to know a good few of them, it's gotten such that I can kinda let 'em know I love them, too.
Is good.
Only difficulty is that a good handful of them are male, and a good handful of those are lonely. And that can tend toward fixations, due to having made a connection. It's more complicated than I care to really think about, because...I don't always know what to do about it. Taking the direct approach doesn't always work so well--sometimes it's taken really badly, and I don't want to hurt people...and sometimes it's taken as incentive to try harder, and that just further complicates matters.
Amber somehow deals with these things really well. Only, she actually sits and flirts, as opposed to just having heartfelt conversation and feeling free to joke around. And somehow she's able to keep guys at arms' length, without them being all upset over it. I...well, I don't know how exactly to go about that sort. Nice...charming...but not inviting or encouraging romantic affection.
It just gets so tricky, trying to love people who are lonely, sometimes. Feelings get hurt. ..which, sometimes is necessary for growth, but...argh. I'd just rather not have to deal with it.
I'd rather just be able to interact without having to worry about people thinking I'm available in that sense. Because I'm not. And not just when I'm not already otherwise engaged. It's just...well, it's always been a matter of being completely intent upon refraining from that sort of interaction unless I make the decision in advance. Sometimes snap decisions have been made to engage in a momentary flings, but it's not my thing. I've experimented with it, time to time...out of curiosity, loneliness, boredom, knowledge that it wasn't really a choice, and out of a sick desire to dominate, to adventure. I had my wild times, yeah, but it never went over particularly well--feelings are too much a part of the process and I get too paranoid, even protecting myself. Which...yeah...that's always been a big issue.
I got a bit turned sideways a number of weeks ago and decided to take advantage of a guy who'd been attempting for nearly a month to manipulate that sort of exchange (plus, what I assume was an attempt to get me interested in going out with him, on the whole). Was feeling 'the need,' as it were, only to go out and overhear that guy was 'going out with' chica. Didn't sit well. So I made that call, later in the night. The guy was selfish enough that he tried to 1.make it such that I couldn't leave without his assistance (living in middle of nowhere down a few turns...having told me he was "just up the road"), 2. lied per omission, in that he lives with his mom and stepdad...which I only found out about by looking around the bathroom and seeing prescription and asking about it--intended to have me sleep over and have to deal with them, in the morning, thus (in this area, things are generally as that I'm assuming it would) FORCING a relationship, per fact of having already met his folks (people have some ass-backwards logic, sometimes)
3. thinking I was drunk enough not to ask for protection 4. assuming that I wouldn't notice when he tried to take it off and go on, regardless. Hell no.
That is more than enough of that crap. MORE than enough.
I don't remember people being so darned manipulative, last time I was single! Heck, listening to chica pull all her moves...flirting heavily with other guys while he's around, -telling him- she's going to take something of his then get offended when he refuses, constantly calling him out for non-existent stuff (blaming things), and getting all pissy when he's not constantly at her beck-and-call (maybe it's not all the time?, but I have noticed it)...plus, as of last night, giving him the guilt trip from hell for allowing one of their MUTUAL friends to go to his apartment with him to sleep off the drunk...when she ended up BEING WITH THE TWO OF THEM, thus KNOWING nothing untoward was occurring. She apparently went off on him and on HER. People talk about these things, and I just happen to listen to pretty much every conversation within range of my hearing. It was so odd, hearing this woman talk about how sweet chica is, how much guy cares for her, and then going on in no little amount of confusion to describe how chica way-laid them both for doing NOTHING.
And the two of them, according to guy...aren't even a serious couple, at this point. Have been getting there, certainly, but...Wow.
I'm not sure how bad it's gonna have to get before he realizes she's never gonna be okay with who he is. It upsets him that he's so congenial with -EVERYONE-, but I'm sure it rankles most with women...she doesn't like sitting by herself, from what I can tell--I've engaged her in conversation every time I've seen her alone at the bar (being alone, myself, most of these times)...dunno. Everyone seems to have a good opinion of her, but not a very strong one. As though she's not really someone they know well, which seems odd in that I've been told by bar manager that she's been coming around, dedicatedly, for at least six months.
Maybe she doesn't want to know people? I don't really know.
I wish I could remember more about having met her back when I was dating Walt. I was so painfully shy/insecure that I definitely didn't usually talk to people, but there were a few of the guys who were nice enough to me that I eventually became somewhat comfortable around them...one of whom was her boyfriend. He was always full of smiles and positive words--made me feel better about being there. But she wouldn't talk to me, from what I remember. She didn't come around often, but she did come around. And...from what I seem to remember, having been spurned from acknowledgment once, I didn't even try to talk to her. The whole 'cold stare, looking down the nose at me'-kind of thing which I got from some of the cheerleaders, too. Ones who were fine to talk to me, sometimes, but more often than not pretended I didn't exist. So, I just let them alone, too.
But I do seem to remember being somewhere...at a skate park opening in Beckley...where I was in -no way- willing to skate, given that the park was packed and I was so little advanced...trying to strike up a conversation with her there, and I think she actually left. So I went away, and she came back.
My sister made the point that maybe she was just really shy. I don't know. I was really shy, but I was at least nice to people. Just...the memories are so very vague that I'm not even sure they're real. I hate that about so many of my early memories, but I was in such torment it was better -not- to remember most everything than to have it weigh on my mind alongside whatever pressing concerns were actually occurring.
I look back sometimes, taking into consideration what one of my best friends has told me things looked like during all that...remembering also some of the particular instances which led up to becoming accustomed to the treatment...and I can only wonder at how bad it actually looked. With the way Walt treated me--I had no name, other than 'bitch,' and he used to make jokes (which actually made those others uncomfortable--some actually spoke up for me, time to time) at my expense...tell me to do stuff which was degrading (thankfully not sexually so, or at least not until the end and even then, not nearly as bad as it could've been) just to show them I'd do it. Stupid, piddly shit. And I took it. Every bit of it.
And the choking and...yeah...stuff, when we were alone, too.
It was just so bad at home, then. Church had pretty much fallen apart for me--they all thought I was weird for getting so into everything. Then mom and dad always fighting, then mom refusing to leave her room except to yell at us and hurt us while dad wasn't around...and then she stopped leaving her room, at all, and only called us to tell us what to do. Mostly me, though. No one else was really up to it, I think. And I was the oldest, so...it was as it had to be. So, yeah. At least a couple times a day, getting yelled at for any manner of things. Made to feel utterly worthless because I forgot the salt or didn't come up quickly enough, or hadn't swept, or cleaned the living room or the kitchen...or done the dishes...although never the laundry. Dad was exacting about his clothes, which is why I'm assuming she never got down to delegating the laundry.
Everything else, though. Picking up and dropping off siblings. Helping them with homework. Keeping the house clean (which, thankfully, there was usually a part-time housekeeper...I think...I can't even really remember--it's all such a dark blotch). I don't remember whether I cooked, or how food was accomplished. Maybe that was what the housekeeper did. I don't know. Only that everything feel all to hell, and from what John told me, years later...as an outsider who visited very infrequently...I was running the house..only he didn't realize it was always with many threats hanging over my head.
So, yeah. Walt was pretty much externalization of the internalization of my mom's voice. I was always beating myself up, anyway, so it was actually a relief to have someone else do it to such an extreme that it overwhelmed the internal derision. Yeah, I'd already accepted that I couldn't do anything right. I'd already accepted that, despite that, I was still something to be bragged about--not proud of, necessarily...just bragged about. I'd be in the same room, sometimes, when she would do that...it always made me feel so isolated, so utterly and completely alone and insufficient...so mechanical.
Likewise, I'd already accepted that I was basically property. Having been told so many times over the years that the purpose for having me was to do chores like those, so she wouldn't have to...yeah, years later, that it was only a joke was mentioned, but it put me in my place. Which, I'm glad it afforded me humility. I am. Even what-with Walt, taking it to such a level as to tell me he was going to get me in shape to make porn of me to sell. I blindly accepted it, because it wasn't my call to make, as to what 'i' "should" do. Thankfully, it never got to that point.
But, so many things. And dad stopped speaking to me, after my first suicide attempt...a year into the relationship with Walt. As he's told me many times since, "He put me in God's hands." Which...well enough, but it really just further alienated me from a home I'd so long been terrified of. Dad had been my only point of strength, really. He just wasn't ever around. Worked -all- the time, even when he was home...in his own room in the basement, which we were not to disturb him in (probably had something to do with the stash of porn).
Other things, with that, I could mention...but I won't. Similar to one of the reasons it's sometimes so difficult to deal with living with granny. You never really get over having certain things happen. No matter whether the intent was innocent or not. No matter the extent to which things went or didn't. Just, all it takes is that moment of awareness to spark discomfort and refusal to stop.
Of childhood, I wish I'd known better than to treat Amber like such shit. Tabby and I did give her hell. We resented her for not having to deal with the stuff we did. Because she didn't. She never did, as far as we've talked.
And I wholly regret some of the things I put Tabby through, too. Out of my own desperation, really, but there's no excuse for mistreating someone you're supposed to love.
I regret withdrawing from J.T. as I did. He called me mom for a number of years of his youth, and then one particularly frightful dream so terrified me that I could hardly bear to be around him. I told mom about it once, the week before she died. I don't know if I've told any of the rest of my family. I can't remember.
I wish we could all be together again. The four of us. Play another game of our improvisational Monopoly--making it last till dawn, even now that Tabby no longer is banker (and has fessed up to what we all knew..that she constantly stole from the bank). We were a good team, all in all. Even in the midst of a good deal of chaos, those last ten years before mom and dad finally divorced...after he'd left her, once. During their screaming, glass breaking fights prior, the four of us vowed to completely screw up the weddings if they divorced and the two of them ever tried to marry anyone else.
I remember that one, in particular. The worst. Just in the kitchen, as the four of us were playing in the living room floor...and the screaming escalated, and I ushered them out of the living room, into the Tv room, doing what I could to soothe J.T. and reassure Amber, while remaining on watch that they wouldn't come...that mom wouldn't come and hurt any of us. Because I'd have had to stand in the way.
I was either eight or nine, then. But I'd already gotten to the point where I did what I could to step in, whenever she started to get out of hand. Tabby took care of herself, for the most part--she'd been dealing with it for nearly as long as me, and had her own way of bearing it. Amber...to an extent, also--she'd start crying before a hand was raised, and that would usually gain her sanctuary. J.T., though, was a deer in headlights. He'd turn red and just start to tear up, and I couldn't bear it. I'd step in, whenever I saw it happening. I think with the others, too.
The last time she raised a hand to us, though, was when I was...either twelve or thirteen--can't remember. I'd begged permission to go outside for a while, just to be outside. Was refused. I decided to sneak out, anyway--it was such a nice day out...fall, cool but not cold. I lost track of time and she caught me coming back in. Started screaming at me, I turned to go up the stairs, she grabbed me and turned me around. I was just over her height, standing on the first stair. She continued screaming, I didn't say anything.
She slapped me...hard...across the face...from what I recall. I know it knocked the glasses off of my face. Tabby and Amber were watching, I think. One of them told me I slapped her back. I really don't remember. I just remember that it was too much. And I kind of blacked out, and next I know I was getting my glasses and went to my room.
Dad didn't know about that, until recently. He claims not to've known how bad things were, on the whole. Not sure I believe him.
He should've known, given as rough as I was with the others. They had a talk with me when I was five about how I didn't know my own strength, that I couldn't hit Amber or Tabby like I had been or they'd get hurt. -Really- hurt. And I didn't want that. So I tried to stop. I didn't do as badly as I had, after that...but I wasn't able to get my anger in check until a LONG time after that. And even then, there were moments.
There still are, I guess. Amber's the last person I physically attacked out of anger. But even then, my strength was held very much in check. I wanted to hurt her (hell, it was in my head to do worse than that)...but I couldn't bring myself to really put the full force of my strength behind my actions. Just enough to let her know there was no amount of pain she could cause that would stop me. When she stopped trying, I stopped. And I regretted it all, immediately. Dad had me taken before the Juvenile Prosecutor for that--dude was kinda pissed about it, said it was a family matter that should've been dealt with at home. Which, if the guy had had any idea of what things had been like at home, he might've taken it upon himself to call in another agency, entirely.
I wonder sometimes how it is that there really was no follow up, after my first hospitalization. There were folks from the services at the hospital saying they were required by law to do so, given what had happened, but if they'd made any note of what had been going on at home...I can't imagine they'd have been able to, in good conscience, not step in. Guess that's one of the benefits of growing up with parents so revered by the community...when you need help and can't ask for it, yourself, no one would believe you anyway.
Mom always used to tell us we'd better pray to God the cops got to us before she did, if we ever called on her. We were too terrified of her to question that. She never broke any bones, though. Some skin, maybe. Maybe some bruises. Definitely hand prints. Loss of some hair, here and there. Just little stuff, yeah. Nothing a pair of long shorts or decent length shirt wouldn't cover.
I was dead-set against having children...against getting married...for the longest time, because of my experiences growing up.
But I've seen enough loving couples, now, to know it's not all bad--to know it can actually be REALLY good, given the right people. And I've worked myself out of that mentality--no longer beat myself up, I love me for who I am (even as a lot of folks think I'm weird as hell and don't understand half of what I say, presumably because my way of looking at the world is so..different) and I'm happy with who I am...I'm happy with my life, even as there are ups and downs. I know that, and I've been working evermore towards finding someone to complement it. Bit by bit, there've been noticeable improvements. I still lack a bit of motivation, granted...or maybe focus or direction...because motivation has returned, in droves, lately (sooooo much research, reflection, writing, interaction, hobby-stuffs, etc)...but the potential for grasping it is most certainly there...here, just within reach. And then, there are so many personal projects to work on--especially of who I am and the things which I yet want to be...the ways I want to be, and things I want to figure out and apply to my own ways.
And, as far as children go--I came to terms with the fact that I would like to have one (or two, really), about five years ago. Didn't very much admit it to myself, but it was there. I'd still just been terrified at the idea of putting my children/child through what I went through, from my family (as all the research shows that people from abusive households are the most likely to perpetuate abuse)...but I'm so much stronger than I used to be. Granted, I'm 'odd,' by most people's standards...and it's taken me a while to get to the point where I really enjoy interacting with children (that statement is totally gonna ruin my reputation.. lol ...NOT!--what the heck is a reputation worth, anywho, if I can't revise?)..but I do like kids, and I do enjoy being in the position of caregiver. Used to just take care of animals...and my siblings (poorly, the latter)...but I've been able to take part in the first year and a half of my niece's life, to the extent that I know it's something I can do. Without being a complete monster. With love. And, yes, I'm sure there'll be irritation...but, with love. Heck, even living with granny is a testament to that. As much as she intentionally vexes me sometimes, I still generally hold my peace. I've gotten to the point, at least, where I don't just let her talk to me as though I'm worthless, however. I won't abide that. No one should be expected to. That sort of under-handed emotional manipulation is the darkest. And it's one of the reasons I worry about guy, with chica. Her attempts at placing blame at his feet for the most inane of things is in line with that sort of attempt...to gain ability to manipulate emotions. I'm glad he hasn't succumbed, and I do wonder (with a great deal of hope) how he's dealing with her bit about "How could you do this to me?" from last night. Because that's an even more sinister version.
But he's so (surprisingly and Wonderfully!) observant and adept at interpretation, otherwise prior attempts at manipulation wouldn't so readily be disbanded. I just...don't know to what extent that all is a conscious process, on his part. No matter.
But, yeah...kids and marriage (yeah, yeah--I've been putting them in order backwards since sixth grade, for which I was taken to the side by the teacher...why stop now?). Someday. With someone who can keep up with me enough as to be challenged, whom I can keep up with enough as to be challenged. Someone I can share with, without having to but because I want to and because they're insight is so intriguing.
Completely the same and yet wholly different. We were both right, as it turns out.
(That rarely happens, hm?)
I write so darned much, but I enjoy piecing these things together, from having been apart so long. The pieces of me, yeah.
Dunno what's next. No idea.
Just kind of intrigued at the idea of the way things -might- be playing out. Not sure in any way, but one possibility presented itself to me, last night. Subtlety in body language is such an...interesting thing.
If we'd leaned into one another any closer, we would have been wholly embracing, really. Seated, yes...but practically resting our heads on one another's shoulders. In...instance, perhaps..I did certainly feel his stubble against my...was it my neck?, my cheek?...my ear?...for a moment.. Or maybe a couple different ones. It was...oh, so precious to me. And I don't know if I touched him. I so wanted to rest my hand upon his thigh for just a moment, just...in some distended hope that he might place his over mine, in shield of our bodies. But, no. His shoulder, his upper arm...perhaps his back? I don't know..I can't remember. It was all too swift and far too brief, but potent and so very intimate, nonetheless.
Talking about just nearly next to nothing. Just nearly. A song. A drink. My confusion (Why is it I have such weird interpretations of the things he tells me? I can readily understand once he corrects me, but my mind is usually coming in from the complete opposite direction.). His exhaustion. And it was brief, but it was beautiful. Only a few song's worth of time together. Until some particular others came in, and he needed to not be there sitting and talking with me in that fashion. I even played at what it would be like to feel jealous for most of a song or so. It was okay, but...really didn't have the motivation for it, given...well, just given the way this feels. It's all in the details, really. Had I not had that course earlier in the day...being told explicitly how you are to hold a child in your lap--across the lap, not against you...and seen how lightly, nearly not, touching. And then the slight shake of head, swift look of consternation, and bit of...stretch indicating prior discomfort, I might have wondered, still. But I did see those things.
And, yeah, the vast majority of the world would consider me cracked-out for placing such emphasis on the most minute bit of exchanges as posture, gesture, and flashes of expression...as opposed to of the overall presentation...but it's as it is. And whether he even realizes he's communicating these things, he most certainly is. So, whichever way. I'm just not used to getting these sorts of messages. I'm not used to reading them and understanding them, in relation to myself.
It usually takes somebody to hit me over the head with a darned...well, I don't know--a 2x4 certainly isn't hefty enough... ...cement block, perhaps?...as to get me to pay attention to romantic cues, and even then, it's usually only the most overt which I'll even make any notice of. Because that's all they're aware of, I think, so how would it be fair to either me or them to look any deeper?
I figure it's probably how I know with a moment of seeing someone as to whether there's compatibility, though.
It's just...so odd...finding someone who communicates so very wholly, so effectively. And I wonder where it comes from, for him. I think a lot of it for me (as I'd written a couple months back) is spending so much time in the comfort of the company of animals (who do almost exclusively communicate in this fashion)...but also, so much time in thought alone, and also...really, I think the house I grew up in had a lot to do with it--had to be aware of any indication that anger was forthcoming, at all costs.
I wonder what got him there. Someday I hope to find out. Not out of blatant curiosity, for once, but because I want to know more about him. Just because it's him, rather than because he's an "interesting specimen." Sheesh, okay, now I understand what the hell Gill was talking about when me mentioned that, of me...thinking it, initially, about me. He was just a bit...jaded, though, by his past. Tormented, ultimately, which is why I ended up ushering him outside so he could cry for a moment (talking to someone who truly cares and listens seems to have that effect on people who are suffering...I'm glad to be able to listen, for that--it does help to know someone cares...just, unfortunately, not everyone can afford to let it come out, at a given moment or risk collapse.)
In any case, I'd written just a tad more, but it got lost in livejournal's being craptastic. So, yeah. Enough noted, for now.