lookout
I’m trying to be honest with myself. It’s so easy to point a finger anywhere but at yourself. Just because no relationship as yet has ever worked, doesn’t mean that I assign blame to the other party for the ultimate demise thereof. I know I’m not easy to live with. I’m strong and independent. Stubborn. Set in my ways. And not interested in somebody else dictating how I should be. And I’m not so arrogant that I don’t acknowledge that the opposite holds true as well. I have no right or even desire, really, to dictate how another should be. We are who we are. We are how we are. If there is any change to take place, it’s on an individual basis only, and that is if and only if said individual makes the decision to make some sort of change, to his or her self, for his or her own reasons.
People need to be able to cooperate, in order to live well with one another. And nobody has a crystal ball. How can one know if the shoe fits, unless one tries it on? And what if it feels great at first, but then you develop a blister? And what if you treat the blister, and keep wearing the shoes, but you develop more blisters, and then you sprain your ankle? What if you try to stretch that shoe, or stretch your foot, or buy special socks that are just a bit thicker or just a bit thinner, so that you can make that shoe fit? There comes a point where you have to just take a look at your feet and take a look at those shoes and accept the fact that they just don’t work well together. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with the shoes. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with your feet. It just means they don’t fit each other. So you wistfully set those shoes aside, or give them away in the hopes that they will bless somebody else. It isn’t failure. It’s just not a good fit.
I’m not angry with Skills, or even Gadget. I’m disappointed in the colors that have emerged at various times in this journey, but truly, I don’t and can’t hold it against anybody. It’s just data. It’s just another point of information that helps describe that person. And I can’t be angry with them for not being who I need. They are who they are. I am who I am. We don’t fit. I’m okay with that.
I can take ownership and apologize for any pain that I inflicted. I am certain that there is pain. So I am sorry. Truly, deeply sorry. And I have to take ownership for the pain that I have experienced, because I am no victim, and I am no martyr. I am responsible for my own self and my own feelings. I have, in the past, done discredit to myself by trying to make things fit that simply don’t, can’t and won’t fit. I thought I was doing the right thing, making every effort to make things work. But I wasn’t looking at the damage I was doing to myself. So now I’m trying to look at things in a different light. To flip the script. Before, it took me years to stand up and make ways part. This time, I recognized it much sooner, and took action. Granted, this time around I have children, so I have to ask myself what is the ultimate impact to them for whatever choices I am making. And that helps me focus on the bigger picture, which is caring for myself so that I can care for them.
I don’t know what next time will look like, or how long it will last, or what trouble I will make for myself. I don’t know, absolutely, what I want. I know some of what I want. And some of what I don’t want. I don’t want to be lonely. But I’ve learned that the loneliness one feels when one is with someone is so much worse than the loneliness that one feels when one is not. I want someone to talk to, to laugh with, to dine with, to be with. But not necessarily every day. And not necessarily to live with. I don’t know that I know how to live with somebody. Anybody.
I sure as hell could stand to get laid! I don’t really mean that, because what I really want is to make love. Big difference. In a dreamy ideal world it would happen every day! But that’s not practical or foreseeable. I’m serially monogamous and just don’t know how to be casual about that sort of thing. Too much emotion and stuff between the ears is wrapped up in that, for me. It’s a good thing that I have woman-kind’s best friend, the most amazing invention of all time –the magic bullet. And it’s not the mini- food processor of which I speak. And it’s also not– the– same–. But if times are tough, it’s there.
I think I’m feeling better. I don’t feel like the blood in my veins is sludge any more, or at least not today. I don’t feel like howling or breaking anything. I don’t feel a deep sorrow. I don’t feel angry at anyone, or at myself. I don’t feel frustrated. I don’t feel wistful. When I see that I truly accept others for who they are, I am learning that I can just as well accept myself for who I am (indeed, not doing so is hypocritical!). I don’t need to chastise myself for being who I am. I am who I am. And if I don’t like who I am, then I can change myself to become who I want to be. I have that freedom! I have that right! It’s up to me. I’m the commander of my own ship.
