Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Always last...
I'm always the last to get on board.
Ten years ago, someone told me they lived with their "brother and his wife." Her brother had never been married. She lived with her parents, at 40. That's more OK than saying you live with your brother and his wife when you don't.
This person came to me because she was interested in pursuing a man. The wife of that man got downwind of that via online. This was such a joke because I had a computer at the time for all of two months and she'd never touched one. Her desire to know more about this woman led my friendship for her to open the door to more information.
Needless to say I was surprised that within a couple weeks she was in my home, on a fact-finding mission to secure her move to our community. I felt OK about it but no one did. I was already feeling bonded to her. She told me she was the "sister she never had," and that we were fated because our father's had the same first name, our daughter's had the same first name/almost the same middle name/and were born in the same state, our birthdays were consecutive. A friend who lived in our downstairs in-law area would, after her initial warning, say nothing but "Did you look at her eyes?"
I did not heed. Not even the wife and the fact-finder faced off in MY living room. One minute everything was fine. They'd been getting along. I got a little nervous when the fact-finder came from the bathroom after blow drying her hair and said "I used to wear my hair just like that. He hated it." I felt fortunate my "did you look at her eyes" friend was present too. The entire room didn't feel safe.
Prior I had asked her not to make my guest uncomfortable. At the time I thought she was insane to grab my clothing at the throat and say "I'm your fucking guest." In therapy later, I learned that moment was the one where I was losing control of my own will, but I always want things to go well for everyone, so as usual I ignored it. I'd brought everyone under one roof after a long and enjoyable day that had included drinking by most. As far as I was concerned, they were ALL my guest.
But that following morning forever changed my life. A pair of the man-in-question's boots had been left in my car. They sat at my front door so the wife wouldn't forget them when leaving. The wife suddenly grabbed one and approached the fact-finder with one of the boots and started yelling "Smell it! Go ahead smell it! This is what you want isn't it? Huh? Huh?"
I had never witnessed anything like this in my entire life. I was shocked, and I was scared. It was the most insane act. I was so shocked by my friend, despite the obvious that this woman truly was after her husband despite denying it, too much.
It was this moment I lost all control. Oddly, the fact-finder everyone called a stalker seemed to be the saner one of the two. At least in the boot incident. She was already moving to town. At that moment I should have realized none of any of this had anything to do with me. I was a facilitator and an enabler. And an idiot.
The story is way too long, but that moment was the beginning of it. And the point is that I "sided" with the stalker more often than not. I begged people to give her the benefit of the doubt and accept her. Most did. She was the sister I never had, and that played heavily into my issues, so the hassle was worth it.
The story is way too long, so I'll just get to the point and how it relates to this very moment.
I'd kept a journal from the time I was 11. One day I thought things in my home were not as I left them. Another day, my journals were definitely in a different state. Just for the heck of it, put thread across them the way I had seen someone put a hair across a door movie, to see if anyone had come in or out. As my suspicions grew, a tech-head friend devised a primitive version of today's commonplace nannycam.
She being a "computer expert" and I a computer dolt, she had complete access to my computer so she could do all my computer maintenance for me.
Am I a victim in any of this? Well, yes. Of myself. To serve myself with the sister I never had, the role of "rescuer" from the persecution this woman who said she was completely innocent in everything faced daily. The only blame in this was mine.
I'd made my house completely available to her. We kept the spare key in a planter on the deck. I removed it. I'm sure she held out as long as she could, but eventually she had to say to me "Where's the key? I couldn't find it." I asked her what she needed inside, since the key was in case of emergency. She gave me a very lame lie. I gave her a lame lie in return. I told her I didn't move the key, it had to be there. She never asked me again.
She'd already read my entire life anyway. And this is how sick I am. I thought she just wanted to know about me. I really thought she just wanted to know about me.
The details in my journals provided her a very easy time of it when the time came to realize I was NOT going to be the way to win the man. Some bought it for a time, but then switched to "keep your enemies closer" and would just listen to where she was going with whatever she was working on at the moment. For us, the code was "Did you look at her eyes?" She never knew revealing her was actual point. Or maybe she did, because when that huge hand she chose to play didn't produce results she finally got it and left.
What does any of that have to do with this?
I'm where I am right now for the exact same reason. I believe in loyalty, especially for those who need it most. Sometimes I see I get confused about that, but my core loyalties are long and strong. And, if I make a promise, I keep it. These things are unconditional.
So every day this stuff is a battle. "Say something" vs. "shut up."
I rarely know what to do. I am a follower, not a leader. I take direction well, but it helps to only have one set of directions. In this case, I see both sides of the issue as valid. Then I remembered the bully rules, and they suggest the shutting up choice. I did that, but fell off the hush wagon.
It was difficult to comply with either side's wishes. Then yesterday many, even though all these people are me, decided to cut off blood to the tumor. I had to decide. I was going to keep writing about my world in a way the "say somethings" thought was right because shutting up could so easily be construed as my "hiding" and being "scared." Or, I was going to shut up and let people think whatever they want because I know they already do.
It wasn't until I was running through the entire story for a few people who bothered to ask. When I got to the part about my journals being read I said that "This is the only other person to have ever read those." I'm not embarrassed by any part of my life. Life is life. But I hadn't realized the intense violation I'd felt about a "friend" rifling through my house and things, even if I, in delusion and need, thought it was to get to know me, was something to be considered.
Which brings me back to hypocrites and being one. Then, and until recently, I did feel a victim in the journal-reading episodes. I can't be that victim anymore because I see now I'm setting my journal out on the Internet to be read, and what's more public than THAT? I thought writing longhand at my desk was different from typing here. It's not.
We are our own first line of protection. If we don't protect ourselves, how can we ask or expect anyone else to? So I will join the "shut ups." Interpretation will be interpretation no matter what.
Ten years ago, someone told me they lived with their "brother and his wife." Her brother had never been married. She lived with her parents, at 40. That's more OK than saying you live with your brother and his wife when you don't.
This person came to me because she was interested in pursuing a man. The wife of that man got downwind of that via online. This was such a joke because I had a computer at the time for all of two months and she'd never touched one. Her desire to know more about this woman led my friendship for her to open the door to more information.
Needless to say I was surprised that within a couple weeks she was in my home, on a fact-finding mission to secure her move to our community. I felt OK about it but no one did. I was already feeling bonded to her. She told me she was the "sister she never had," and that we were fated because our father's had the same first name, our daughter's had the same first name/almost the same middle name/and were born in the same state, our birthdays were consecutive. A friend who lived in our downstairs in-law area would, after her initial warning, say nothing but "Did you look at her eyes?"
I did not heed. Not even the wife and the fact-finder faced off in MY living room. One minute everything was fine. They'd been getting along. I got a little nervous when the fact-finder came from the bathroom after blow drying her hair and said "I used to wear my hair just like that. He hated it." I felt fortunate my "did you look at her eyes" friend was present too. The entire room didn't feel safe.
Prior I had asked her not to make my guest uncomfortable. At the time I thought she was insane to grab my clothing at the throat and say "I'm your fucking guest." In therapy later, I learned that moment was the one where I was losing control of my own will, but I always want things to go well for everyone, so as usual I ignored it. I'd brought everyone under one roof after a long and enjoyable day that had included drinking by most. As far as I was concerned, they were ALL my guest.
But that following morning forever changed my life. A pair of the man-in-question's boots had been left in my car. They sat at my front door so the wife wouldn't forget them when leaving. The wife suddenly grabbed one and approached the fact-finder with one of the boots and started yelling "Smell it! Go ahead smell it! This is what you want isn't it? Huh? Huh?"
I had never witnessed anything like this in my entire life. I was shocked, and I was scared. It was the most insane act. I was so shocked by my friend, despite the obvious that this woman truly was after her husband despite denying it, too much.
It was this moment I lost all control. Oddly, the fact-finder everyone called a stalker seemed to be the saner one of the two. At least in the boot incident. She was already moving to town. At that moment I should have realized none of any of this had anything to do with me. I was a facilitator and an enabler. And an idiot.
The story is way too long, but that moment was the beginning of it. And the point is that I "sided" with the stalker more often than not. I begged people to give her the benefit of the doubt and accept her. Most did. She was the sister I never had, and that played heavily into my issues, so the hassle was worth it.
The story is way too long, so I'll just get to the point and how it relates to this very moment.
I'd kept a journal from the time I was 11. One day I thought things in my home were not as I left them. Another day, my journals were definitely in a different state. Just for the heck of it, put thread across them the way I had seen someone put a hair across a door movie, to see if anyone had come in or out. As my suspicions grew, a tech-head friend devised a primitive version of today's commonplace nannycam.
She being a "computer expert" and I a computer dolt, she had complete access to my computer so she could do all my computer maintenance for me.
Am I a victim in any of this? Well, yes. Of myself. To serve myself with the sister I never had, the role of "rescuer" from the persecution this woman who said she was completely innocent in everything faced daily. The only blame in this was mine.
I'd made my house completely available to her. We kept the spare key in a planter on the deck. I removed it. I'm sure she held out as long as she could, but eventually she had to say to me "Where's the key? I couldn't find it." I asked her what she needed inside, since the key was in case of emergency. She gave me a very lame lie. I gave her a lame lie in return. I told her I didn't move the key, it had to be there. She never asked me again.
She'd already read my entire life anyway. And this is how sick I am. I thought she just wanted to know about me. I really thought she just wanted to know about me.
The details in my journals provided her a very easy time of it when the time came to realize I was NOT going to be the way to win the man. Some bought it for a time, but then switched to "keep your enemies closer" and would just listen to where she was going with whatever she was working on at the moment. For us, the code was "Did you look at her eyes?" She never knew revealing her was actual point. Or maybe she did, because when that huge hand she chose to play didn't produce results she finally got it and left.
What does any of that have to do with this?
I'm where I am right now for the exact same reason. I believe in loyalty, especially for those who need it most. Sometimes I see I get confused about that, but my core loyalties are long and strong. And, if I make a promise, I keep it. These things are unconditional.
So every day this stuff is a battle. "Say something" vs. "shut up."
I rarely know what to do. I am a follower, not a leader. I take direction well, but it helps to only have one set of directions. In this case, I see both sides of the issue as valid. Then I remembered the bully rules, and they suggest the shutting up choice. I did that, but fell off the hush wagon.
It was difficult to comply with either side's wishes. Then yesterday many, even though all these people are me, decided to cut off blood to the tumor. I had to decide. I was going to keep writing about my world in a way the "say somethings" thought was right because shutting up could so easily be construed as my "hiding" and being "scared." Or, I was going to shut up and let people think whatever they want because I know they already do.
It wasn't until I was running through the entire story for a few people who bothered to ask. When I got to the part about my journals being read I said that "This is the only other person to have ever read those." I'm not embarrassed by any part of my life. Life is life. But I hadn't realized the intense violation I'd felt about a "friend" rifling through my house and things, even if I, in delusion and need, thought it was to get to know me, was something to be considered.
Which brings me back to hypocrites and being one. Then, and until recently, I did feel a victim in the journal-reading episodes. I can't be that victim anymore because I see now I'm setting my journal out on the Internet to be read, and what's more public than THAT? I thought writing longhand at my desk was different from typing here. It's not.
We are our own first line of protection. If we don't protect ourselves, how can we ask or expect anyone else to? So I will join the "shut ups." Interpretation will be interpretation no matter what.
Monday, January 1, 2007
365 days?
Is 365 days too many to commit in giving this blogging thing a try?
Should I choose instead some number more modest? Say, a standard eight to 10 weeks?
Seems everyone I know has tried this or remains engaged with the process.
Yet I've never been a bandwagoner, which probably explains my resistance/reluctance to become one of countless others. Others who do this better, and with more skill than I can.
Will I bore myself into a coma?
Likely, as I'm already feeling sleepy at a mere 93 words.
Perhaps if I limit all posts to 100 words or less...
Bloody unlikely that is, as this has already exceeded the limit by 12.
Should I choose instead some number more modest? Say, a standard eight to 10 weeks?
Seems everyone I know has tried this or remains engaged with the process.
Yet I've never been a bandwagoner, which probably explains my resistance/reluctance to become one of countless others. Others who do this better, and with more skill than I can.
Will I bore myself into a coma?
Likely, as I'm already feeling sleepy at a mere 93 words.
Perhaps if I limit all posts to 100 words or less...
Bloody unlikely that is, as this has already exceeded the limit by 12.
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