First an important announcement. I’m finally, finally getting the color done on my tattoo! Funny how life gets in the way and things get put off. I’m so excited. We’re looking at a 5 hours session tonight. Another session for background and finishing the color. Plus a final session for touch ups and going over the outline.
On to therapy. Yesterday’s therapy session just seemed too short. I had so much to talk about and Therapist had so much she wanted to go over with me but we simply didn’t have enough time.
I talked a lot about going back to visit Sister and Zoe and see my family. In an amazing twist of fate I actually had a phenomenal time.
Sister just got her own apartment and I felt instantly comfortable and relaxed there. I felt more at home at her place than I can ever remember feeling at the house where I grew up with my parents. Unfortunately she’s 500 miles away and I only get to see her a handful of times every year.
Home is where the heart is. My heart is with my sister. My sister is my home. Home has never been a place for me. It’s always been the people that I am connected to, which unfortunately are few and quite literally, far between.
It makes me sad because I’m starting to feel very at home with Roommate, but she’ll be moving soon. Everyone has to grow up sometime I guess.
Zoe is another. Zoe and I together should be illegal. I feed off the energy around me and grow from it. Zoe does the same. Put us together and everything goes to 11.
I had a lot of impulsivity this past week. I spent so much money, buying stuff for my sister, for Roommate, for myself, for Zoe, for my parents. Money, money, money, poof. I was really
good okay, about my drinking until I got to Zoe. We had a couple glasses of wine at dinner. Than two bottles between us at the wine bar we went to after. Way beyond my limit. I don’t regret it for an instant.
Zoe and I together are like gravity. Everyone nearby is just pulled to us and the energy we exude. I’m sure Therapist thinks we indulge each other’s Outer Child too much but I don’t care. We also support each other and can be absolutely unreserved and open when it comes to discussing the things in our lives and in our brains. Even, apparently, the fact that we could have both been wildly in love with the other at the same time without the other actually knowing. Some of that attraction is still there. There were a few moments when we were dancing that I’m pretty sure the rest of the world stopped and no one else existed anymore. We both recognized this wasn’t a good idea though and let the night take a turn for the more mellow after that.
I also definitely made a very poor decision to drive while quite intoxicated. This is a major, major problem. I know I absolutely should not do this but I just don’t have that thing in my brain that says I should ask to stay.
The only day that I had a hard time was when I saw my family on Easter. My family was great, they were nice, and wonderful and did absolutely nothing wrong. Every. Single. Thing. They. Did. Aggravated the piss out of me. Everything. Someone would say hello and ask how was doing, my uncle asked about my job, someone would sit a little too close, want to catch up for any amount of time… all things that are perfectly reasonable and pleasant for a family that cares about you to want to do. I couldn’t deal with it. I was anxious, irritable, angry, and just plain moody the whole night. I don’t know why?!?
Therapist says it might have something to do with how perceptive (read: hypersensitive) I am, and that I may be experiencing a lot of transference from what she calls intersubjective fields.
Intersubjective fields are a concept where a person essentially picks up on the energy another person is feeling due to a circumstance or interaction they are having with someone else as if it actually interplays with your interaction. Like being able to pick up on the psychological weight of the people around me. Even though they may not actually be projecting this external mental baggage onto me, I am perceptive enough to realize that it is there and unconsciously feel the pressure others feel, myself. I’m not entirely sure I’m explaining that accurately but it’s a pretty ethereal concept.
I’m not sure I agree, disagree, or both. I have often felt the weight of what other people are going through. Very often. Even if they don’t talk about what is going on, it’s usually very clear to me when people are carrying some mental or emotional burden. I can’t help but pick up on the energy they hold. This has definitely contributed to why I avoid some people, and enjoy the company of others. The energy someone exudes is palpable for me. I don’t know if this is empathy or its own thing, but it’s there, and I often rely on these feelings to take measure of people when I meet them. Instinct.
I’m sure in part there is also an element of unresolved issues from growing up. I’ve always felt like a bit of an outsider, even in my family. Coupled with all the pressure I had placed on me growing up I’ve never been very comfortable, or able to believe that my family accepts me for who I am. Cognitively I know they love me. I know they’re VERY proud of me. But I still feel like the little shock rock goth girl that got the funny looks and sat on the outskirts of the class. I know I’m allowed to be there, I know I’m wanted there, but I don’t feel like I belong. Sigh. I wonder if that feeling will ever go away?
And finally, of course, Therapist asked about my relationship with Tech Boy. It’s all going quite well and wonderful. She was asking me if I see this as a ‘forever thing’, how emotionally invested I am, that sort of thing. To be honest, I don’t think I know how to think long term. I want it. I definitely want a partner for life. However, I don’t know how to internalize the concept that someone would ‘want to put up with me for that long’. I’ve always been told that I’m not good enough, that I’m too difficult, too hard too handle, and I can’t wrap my head around the idea that I’m not necessarily that person anymore and that who I am now is definitely a person that someone would want to keep.
I have another problem though too. As I mentioned in the Asylum the other day, I occasionally have ‘straight guilt’. I am not straight. If I had to label me I suppose I would be considered “Bi”sexual, though I really hate the stigma associated with “being Bi”. I’m really just sexual. I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to and plumbing doesn’t have much to do with it. Usually.
I have a definite bias against men. Sorry guys. I have an exceptionally hard time trusting men. I’ve had more severe problems dating men. I haven’t had that kind of trauma with women. When I realized I was attracted to women, I simply started dating them. Never questioned it. I had more of a struggle realizing how much I wasn’t typically attracted to men. There was a period of a few years where I honestly did think I was a lesbian.
Now of course, I do recognize that I really enjoy sex with men. But when it comes to relationships, I’m more comfortable with the dynamic I have with women. I trust it more. I don’t feel like I’m denying a part of who I am. Which is where the guilt comes into play when I date men. For as much as I adore Tech Boy, for as much as I’ve liked some of the men in my past, I always feel like there’s something missing. Maybe not missing, but like I’m suppressing a part of myself that I can’t express. It’s through no fault of theirs. I’m just not straight. I don’t have this internalized concept of what it is to be heteronormative.
Homework: What would it mean to me if I were to be in a strictly monogamous heterosexual relationship without the opportunity to be in a homosexual relationship ever again? What emotions are inspired? What would I feel I was missing? Would I feel that I missing something?
In the end I guess it won’t matter. I know when I fall in love my heart is dedicated to that person, but the process of getting there can be an internal struggle. Plus, there’s that idea that I won’t ever actually have that anyway because who the hell would want to put up with all this bullshit I have going on in my head.
I’m a bad person.
Growing up I was a terror. A nightmare. I fought with everyone. I was malicious and violent. I was angry, manipulative. Highly destructive. To myself, to the people around me, to the walls that held the roof above my head. Everything.
I’m a bad person.
As Therapist has been reminding me. I am not my past. My past is a part of me. It is what has brought me to be who I am today. But it does not define me. Who I choose to be now, the choices I make, the decisions I make, the way I behave now, is what defines me.
People are just people. People are not saints, and people are not evil. People make mistakes. People make bad choices. People also learn, and grow. People make new choices based on what they’ve learned before and those choices become better. Life is a learning process. It’s not black and white. One mistake, two mistakes, a decade of mistakes, doesn’t “taint” you forever. It just means there are things I won’t repeat in favor of living in a way that is healthier for who I am now.
Therapist thinks I’ve made amazing progress. She tells me I’m wonderful and a joy to work with. I still can’t convince myself to believe her. I can’t shake this feeling that if I’m not good enough, that means I must be bad.
It’s something to work on.