Oh
I'm sunburnt. Like, crispy arms and back of my legs. It's from having my arm hanging out the window while driving all over this half of the state over the past 2 days. And standing still in front of (and in) a river for an hour at a time, with the sun beating on my back.
I love rivers. They flow so strong, and when you stand in them and just breathe, they sweep all these cluttered lies and foolish ideas out of your head. I have plenty of Oh moments, standing in rivers.
I called my sister yesterday morning, and talked to her for a good hour. I asked her why I am so consistently drawn to emotionally retarded/stunted men. And she asked me what I meant by emotionally retarded. And I described our father. I didn't realize it till she pointed out it, but seriously. I described our father while we were growing up, point for point. Smart, shiny, happy, full of frustrated confused rage, and completely incapable of handling any sort of intense emotion rationally and maturely. A man who inspires intense love and fear, someone you desperately want to respect, but secretly pity. Someone with power, who wields it over you because it makes them feel good. Someone you fight, and want to yield to, but who you never really trust.
It's so fucking trite. Daddy issues. Mommy issues. These humans crafted us, and we are all flawed. Some of us more than others, but we all have our issues. It doesn't make our parents bad, though some of them were. It's a long, long line of fucked up human beings giving birth to another generation of fucked up human beings.
I know it's not your fault. You're the product of a daddy and mommy who created this need in you. I can follow your path back, clear in spite of your efforts at obscuring it with mystery and fear. I can see those moments of powerlessness in your eyes, that trigger which hits you in your heart and slams your shields into place. Especially in your punishing, heavy silence. The need to hurt, to lash back, held back just enough to keep it safe. I can see all of that, even as you hit all of my own triggers.
And that knowledge used to be enough. If I could see it, maybe I could fix it.
I've been trying to fix you, or some iteration of you, for a very, very long time. I can not think of a single relationship I've had that hasn't been some form of fixing you. Trying to fix you.
I can't fix you.
I have to let you go. I have to let go of this need to to repair my childhood, to get rid of this fear and need and desperate searching for the glue that will hold you together, keep you stable this time. There is no one thing that will keep this from happening again. Not that I can provide.
Beyond that knowledge is a big, gaping hole. I really have no idea what exists beyond that thought. The knowing that I have to let go doesn't translate to this reality. It's so melodramatic.
Also? I gaslight myself, constantly. I say things like "It's so melodramatic", things that denigrate the intensity of my own emotions. Because I'm not allowed to feel these things. I'm not allowed to pity myself, I'm not allowed to be angry at you, I'm not allowed to have any thought or emotion that might spark a conflagration in you.
Fuck that shit. Fuck you. And fuck that part of me.
Man. All I can think about when I contemplate letting go is how hard it's going to be for you. How I'm letting you go to be alone, because I didn't work hard enough to make you well. That maybe, if I'd been less selfish, you'd be able to truly live your life. Jesus.
The scary thing is, I can remember saying "Never again" before. It was a lie then. Will it be a lie now?
I love rivers. They flow so strong, and when you stand in them and just breathe, they sweep all these cluttered lies and foolish ideas out of your head. I have plenty of Oh moments, standing in rivers.
I called my sister yesterday morning, and talked to her for a good hour. I asked her why I am so consistently drawn to emotionally retarded/stunted men. And she asked me what I meant by emotionally retarded. And I described our father. I didn't realize it till she pointed out it, but seriously. I described our father while we were growing up, point for point. Smart, shiny, happy, full of frustrated confused rage, and completely incapable of handling any sort of intense emotion rationally and maturely. A man who inspires intense love and fear, someone you desperately want to respect, but secretly pity. Someone with power, who wields it over you because it makes them feel good. Someone you fight, and want to yield to, but who you never really trust.
It's so fucking trite. Daddy issues. Mommy issues. These humans crafted us, and we are all flawed. Some of us more than others, but we all have our issues. It doesn't make our parents bad, though some of them were. It's a long, long line of fucked up human beings giving birth to another generation of fucked up human beings.
I know it's not your fault. You're the product of a daddy and mommy who created this need in you. I can follow your path back, clear in spite of your efforts at obscuring it with mystery and fear. I can see those moments of powerlessness in your eyes, that trigger which hits you in your heart and slams your shields into place. Especially in your punishing, heavy silence. The need to hurt, to lash back, held back just enough to keep it safe. I can see all of that, even as you hit all of my own triggers.
And that knowledge used to be enough. If I could see it, maybe I could fix it.
I've been trying to fix you, or some iteration of you, for a very, very long time. I can not think of a single relationship I've had that hasn't been some form of fixing you. Trying to fix you.
I can't fix you.
I have to let you go. I have to let go of this need to to repair my childhood, to get rid of this fear and need and desperate searching for the glue that will hold you together, keep you stable this time. There is no one thing that will keep this from happening again. Not that I can provide.
Beyond that knowledge is a big, gaping hole. I really have no idea what exists beyond that thought. The knowing that I have to let go doesn't translate to this reality. It's so melodramatic.
Also? I gaslight myself, constantly. I say things like "It's so melodramatic", things that denigrate the intensity of my own emotions. Because I'm not allowed to feel these things. I'm not allowed to pity myself, I'm not allowed to be angry at you, I'm not allowed to have any thought or emotion that might spark a conflagration in you.
Fuck that shit. Fuck you. And fuck that part of me.
Man. All I can think about when I contemplate letting go is how hard it's going to be for you. How I'm letting you go to be alone, because I didn't work hard enough to make you well. That maybe, if I'd been less selfish, you'd be able to truly live your life. Jesus.
The scary thing is, I can remember saying "Never again" before. It was a lie then. Will it be a lie now?
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