Now I am convinced I fucked up

This is all my fault. From the beginning. My fault. He is at fault too, but I didn't trust him when he gave me no reason not to...and I acted out of fear.

The whole story:

Boy asks girl out. They like each other. They spend lots of time together that first week. Girl has funny medical problem and gets confused. 

I got treated for a UTI. It wasn't a UTI - turns out, he gave me HSV1, oral to genital transmission. I told him about it and he was devastated, apologetic, supportive... I was so upset, so hurt, so scared. I even asked if he had purposely withheld information, and he said absolutely not, he did not think it was something that could or would be transmitted that way (which I buy, because I hadn't thought that either), and he had no sign of an outbreak at all. It wasn't a deal breaker, it was just something we had to get through. He was with me, and I trusted him, and so it was okay. It sent my body into a spiral of other medical problems, but it was okay.

Then he had to go to ComicCon. I now understand that he considers the associated parties work, in a way that I did not then understand. I was hurt that he was spending the weekend Not With Me. I was hurt that I wasn't invited to any of the parties with him. I've never been to those parties...and the last time I heard about them was a million years ago when I was seeing Kevin and he flat rejected me after tweeting about how he had been hanging with some pretty young thing at those parties. 

So I was feeling really insecure, and still feeling a little shaky about the HSV, and this nice guy I had messaged with on Bumble on and off for like six months asked me to coffee. I went. I should not have gone. I should have said "sorry, I'm seeing someone right now." I should have stood by Chris and trusted him. I should have soothed myself and said this was different than when I was 27 and hurt because I didn't understand why the first person I slept with after leaving an abusive relationship with an alcoholic didn't want to be my boyfriend.

I did not say I was seeing someone. I went on the coffee date. I didn't kiss him, it was an hour and a half during the day and we just walked around with coffee. He seemed to like me and asked me to go out again. I said maybe.

That week Chris was sweet, but he was busy and I took that to mean distant. He didn't set up a date and I couldn't understand why. He texted me something sexy and I started getting scared that all he wanted from me was sex (like X, Y and Z person I have been with). I was feeling neglected and scared that it meant he was pulling away. So I did it. I went out again with the other guy the next week. To lunch. We took a walk and salsa danced at a street festival.

I had been talking about Chris how I wanted to see him for my birthday. And on my birthday when he reached out at 5pm with a cute message that did not include the words "happy birthday" I was upset that it was too late, that he hadn't reached out to me the whole weekend, and that the message did not even say "happy birthday." The whole goddamn weekend all I wanted to do was fuck him and dance around his apartment in pretty underwear and take a bath in his big old tub, but I spent it with my friends dancing at HoY in a stupid dress that I kind of hated. It was fun. Kinda. I love my friends. Mostly I just wished I was with him. 

And I was really hurt by his damn radio silence...after I had made this big deal of wanting to spend my birthday weekend with my friends...but I had kept saying my actual birthday I wanted to spend with him. So when he did finally reach out, I told him I had to go. I was busy. I had plans already. I should have told him I was hurt. I should have planned something for my birthday weekend that was accessible to him. I should have invited him to come along, not said "I don't think we're there yet" because he hadn't yet introduced me to anyone in his life...which is a thing I learned I should do from a stupid dating advice book.

The next week he finally made a plan...last minute... and we went to dinner. I was stilted. I wasn't myself. I was nervous. I thought he was pulling away and my fight or flight response was on high alert. This is when we had the aliens interaction... And I made a big mistake. I don't remember what dumb thing I fumbled out that made him ask if I was seeing other people. When I saw the look on his face I should have said "should I be?" or "I don't want to be seeing other people." What I said was (hang on while I bury my face in my hands for a sec) "Well...yeah. I told you I would be." His face absolutely fell. He looked really really shocked and disappointed. He looked like I slapped him.

I should have stopped there. I was pretty drunk...and I wanted to diffuse the situation, and I tried to make him laugh. So I said "I didn't have sex with him... I didn't even kiss him," and told him not only had I gone out on a couple daytime dates with this guy, but the guy was a grip. We went salsa dancing. He looked like he wanted to get up and walk away from me. 

I kind of don't remember the rest of the night...just drunk and fumbling and scared and kind of confused and upset that he didn't say he wanted to be exclusive... I just know that somehow he still asked me to come over, and I went. Once we got to his house I fussed and hemmed and hawed about having sex, even though I had shown up wearing lingerie he'd asked me to wear. I was drunk, and I was gripped by fear that I was messing everything up (which, of course, I was, but not at all how I thought). I didn't cum. I didn't cum the next morning either...He came and then walked away from me before I could. I left my jacket at his house on accident. I left feeling bad about the sex and bad about myself. Something had changed.

For the next month it's just been this endless parade of he's too busy. He's got this. He's got that. I don't hear from him. So... I leaned in. Kept texting, kept up communication. Started feeling like I was doing all the work by myself. Finally I pleaded to get him him to agree to one drink (that was wonderful, and turned into dinner) before he went to Baltimore ComicCon, which was the big deal thing that he's been working toward all fall. It was great. We had a great time. I followed the awards and did the supportive thing all weekend. I tried really hard and it seemed like we were good.

I had to go to work. He was busy on the weekends. He was taking care of his dad, who is going through major surgeries. I tried really hard to be patient, but I was still doing all the work of reaching out and trying. I tried to be supportive and I got a message... "I just really want to fuck. Just be that."

Finally I asked to talk to him on the phone. I told him it was important. Told him some bad things were happening. He hopped to and called me right away. I told him about the bad stuff but then I had to go for a stupid work meeting. He had meetings after that. His partner was in town in the afternoon for a few hours only and he had volunteered to drive the guy to Newark from JFK. He called from the car on his way home but the dog threw up in the car. Finally he called a couple hours later. I was on my way to hang with the hashers, because I didn't want to be alone. 

I said that since the night of the aliens conversation things had changed, and he said he wasn't sure what I meant. I brought up the conversation about dating other people and asked if the change had been that. I'm honestly not sure if I gave him the time or space to respond to that before I just kept word vomiting that I don't know how to do this and I want things to work with us and I really like him.... He said that it's all just that he was busy, this had been the busiest month of his life. And he didn't really get into the thing with his dad, but he did mention that "there's the guy with the hole in his head," and I took that to mean it was really weighing on him. I told him that all I really want is to see him, to touch him, to fuck and have fun...which is true. We never got to have that time, and I fucking want that time with him. I still want that time with him. Well. Now I'm crying.

Anyway. He said he wanted that too. So I said "well can I come over and kiss you?" He said no, he though he felt something that was a cold sore. 

JESUS, REALLY?

He said "look, maybe it's nothing... go do your thing and reach out later and we'll see." So I went. I did my thing. I reached out. He was barely responsive...my guess is he was super high. All I got from him all night was a wtf when I texted that my job had been shut down.

And then nothing.

And then another day of nothing.

And then the second day of nothing my heart let go. I knew I couldn't keep going like this.

And then it turned into a week of nothing.

And that's when I sent the goodbye message.

The end.

I actually did a thing where I took a stand.

Hey you. 

Maybe obvious but…I’m trying to live more truthfully…so yah. I feel hurt. Confused. And with this job not paying us and my operating job and Laura’s cancer and now I’m moving… I have a lot happening too. I need support, not confusion. So… yah. Putting space between me and you. 

I didn’t really wanna do this in a text, but I tried last week and kinda melted when I heard your voice and thought if we could just reconnect physically things might be okay again…I felt very foolish about that after you suggested I reach out later and then…didn’t respond when I reached out later.

Anyway, sorry it’s a text. I really really cared about you…I just kind of don’t feel very cared for. That’s okay, but…it’s a text. 

Good luck this weekend with your dad again. I hope it all works out for him and your family. Good luck with the house and your work and sweet Fred. I really wish you the bestestestestest!

Maybe a little late, but I'm proud that I actually did it. I am a person with boundaries. See me flex my boundary-having muscles. Watch me as I do not crumble into a crying mess at the realization that it's been an hour and he hasn't responded. I am so strong as I move on with my life and do not even think about him every time I see a dog or every fucking day when I'm in his neighborhood or every time I talk to another human being or every ten minutes that I am alive. I am powerful as I do not jump a foot out of my skin hoping it's him every time my phone chimes or rings.

I'm fine.

Really, I'm fine.

it was great until it wasn’t. guess it’s over…

​I had a great conversation with Chris on the phone on Monday. I told him I’d noticed changes in his behavior after that weird night at the bad pizza bar. We talked about the dates I went on, I asked point blank if this was about being busy or not wanting to see me. He said it’s just that he’s been busy. Then I asked to go see him. He said not tonight. He thought he had a cold sore. 

Seriously?

Fucking goddammit. Why didn’t I see the writing on THAT wall? I should have held his feet to the fire. Obviously he does not want to be doing this! What the serious hell?

He said I should get at him later and I did, but he was unresponsive, probably high. I should have told him he had to come to me next. I should have made it absolutely clear that I can’t do all the work of coordinating when he gets to see me. 

And it is “gets to.”

I feel stupid, kinda, like my feelings are telling me that I am to blame here. I have once again fallen in with a guy who made big promises early on and then dipped as soon as it seemed like things were getting real, so that means I’m the one who sucks here. But fuck that. Seriously fuck that. I’m the one with the fine ass and the pretty hair and the ripped back muscles. I’m beautiful and funny and fun and weird as hell and if he doesn’t want it HE is the asshole here. 

So I guess that means I’m moving on? I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since that night. He didn’t even respond to any of my texts except when I told him my job shut down. 

So fuck that. I’m done texting, calling, anything until he responds. He has to prove himself to get me back, not the other way around. Boy, bye. I don’t need my jacket back. 

what’s fair

​So I took a tier job as a second AC, and I knew going in that it wouldn’t be easy, but it’s been a total mess. Production does not understand how to do this. They only prepped for 2 weeks, they didn’t hire payroll until Monday (we were supposed to start shooting Monday but we pushed a day!), none of the office staff have been paid, the PAs didn’t get start work until today, the union contracts weren’t signed until Monday night and our first week we’re doing a fraturday when we’ve been interior for three days. With no A/C and a definite fire hazard’s amount of humans in one apartment. That we can’t access from outside without an escort who has keys to every door, elevator and stairwell. 

Stupid fucking John has control of the camera settings which drives me goddamn bonkers because that is the 1st AC’s job. He’s doing things like a commercial and not like a professional narrative motion picture set because that’s what he knows. Ugh. The DP is sweet but doesn’t get THAT. My op is awesome and amazing but did playback on a day we didn’t have a sound playback person. Argh. 

I feel like my team is not on board with being supportive of others, which makes me feel like they aren’t supporting me in a situation where I feel like we are all getting a raw deal. I got real triggered and cried on set. Why?

I’m used to this feeling of being not supported. Mom supports me a bit I guess, and I shouldn’t look that gift horse in the mouth. And Alecia supports me and that’s great. My friends support me. That’s fine. None of them get this lifestyle, and that is okay too, but it’s starting to be a little frustrating that I built a life where my support network doesn’t get it. And I have Jude, but that relationship is a bit fraught from my years of the lying thing I mentioned a couple weeks back. 

I feel like I have to break up with Chris. I feel like this is related. I don’t know why either of those feelings are happening. He isn’t being what I need, but I don’t know that I am giving him much opportunity to be that either. I’ve been up his ass trying to soothe him ever since I fucked up the part where I was trying to figure out if we could be exclusive. 

I feel like for years I’ve been afraid to be who I want to be and I’ve been tiptoeing around being someone else. I feel ready to throw off that mantle and just be myself, powerful and a leader and free of the sandbags that are holding me back And that feels like all of the people I know somehow. Like I want to just start fresh. 

Maybe I should get the hell out of New York. Maybe I should just move and change my phone number and not tell anyone except the people at work. 

But the kids. Shit. Would they miss me? Probably. Especially with Laura having cancer. That would be a shitty thing to do. 

a few thoughts before some more insomnia

I don’t like doing all this work on myself. I know I am in pursuit of my most true self, but Jesus Christ it feels so inauthentic and contrived. I am picking apart every negative thought or feeling and actually gathering evidence from my thoughts and trying to make a judgement call on how to live my life based on all of that, and then I top it all off with an affirmation. “I am here to show up fully, to speak up authentically.” Okay, whatever you say, Crazy. 

But here I go.

So I have not heard from Chris in two days. And the day before that he barely responded when I texted him, and didn’t make a date all week after I told him my availability very specifically. This, of course, is making my mind spiral. So we do the diligence of exploring the thoughts and feelings until we get to the bottom of the problem. 

The first thought: he is bored with me. He’s over it, he doesn’t want to see me anymore. Okay, has he said that? No. Okay, why do you think that?

Second thought: Because I ruined it. I ruined it with my silly games I learned from the stupid online dating advice, the dating other people thing and the not talking about exes bullshit. This is my fault. Why do you think that?

Thought: Because I always ruin it. Why do you think that?

Thought: Because I am broken and unloveable and no fun to be around.Why do you think that?

Because I fell for Pete and he didn’t like me back. Why? Because he did not want a relationship, which I knew going in. 

Okay well I went hard with Ben and then he broke my heart. Why? Because his kid got sick and he didn’t have room for that and for me.

Okay well even John who I didn’t really like very much didn’t like me after spending time with me. Yes, well, he is an insufferable idiot. True… but isn’t that all my fault for dating him? Why did you? Well I needed practice after Justin…

Justin. Fucking Justin. I put every egg I had in that basket for absolutely no good reason. He even told me not to and I did it anyway. He didn’t break my heart, I did, by picking another alcoholic who loved booze so much that I disappeared. No wonder I wanted to kill myself afterward, it was MY problem, MY broken bad decision making, MY fucked up inability to care for myself that led to my heartbreak. See? I’m broken. I choose bad people who can’t love me. Why did you choose him?

He chose me first. He made me feel special. I felt so un-special, so invisible, and then one day he chose me. Why did you feel those ways?

Because I am embarrassed that nobody chose me before that. Didn’t they?

mWell Lee didn’t really choose me, I chose him and he also was a shitty addict and he tried to squash me to death. Okay, I guess Steven chose me. But I fucked that up by not-actually-cheating on him with whatsisface from work. Why did you do that?

Because I felt like I am not a person who deserves someone good who treats me right.Why did you think that?

Because when I finally got away from Jon I landed with Kevin, and he rejected me. Okay so? He’s just some guy. Why did it hit you so hard?

Because when I got away from Jon I thought I’d find redemption. Redemption from what?

Redemption from the years of letting him tell me I was disgusting and horrible and mean when I tried to take alcohol away. He called me an old hag in a 24 year old body. He hit me and pushed me. Over and over again when I thought we were okay he’d go get drunk again and turn into that monster calling me a slut and a bitch and telling me the sex I wanted wasn’t normal and the career I wanted wasn’t possible and nobody else would ever want me, and then I’d take him back because I actually fucking believed him. Why did you stay for that?

Because when he was sober he loved me and I thought nobody else would ever love me. And look—I’m kind of right, isn’t this situation kind of—Stop that. Dig deeper. Why did you think nobody else would ever love you?

Because I was fat and depressed all the time. It made sense when he called me disgusting. I felt disgusting. Why?

Because I was miserable going through the motions of that mediocre life with him. Why did you do it?

Because he chose me! Okay back to this—why did you take him just because he chose you?

Because I was afraid nobody would ever choose me. This is getting circular. Go back. Why did you think that?

Okay, two people chose me before him. One of them was a 32 year old man who had no business having sex with a 17 year old girl and the other was a 12 year old when I was 11 and didn’t fully understand what he was doing to my body. They chose me. They chose me because they saw that I was broken and wanted help, and they used that to take advantage of my sexuality. Okay, what does that feel like?

Like I am bad. Broken, again. It feels like I cannot rely on other people because they will use me. It feels like men are dangerous. It feels like letting someone get close to me is dangerous. It feels like I cannot open my heart because if I do they will see that they can take advantage of me. It feels like they will see that I am not innocent, that I caused this to happen because of my brokenness. Whoa whoa whoa… let’s start with broken. Why do you think you broke?

Because he left me! Dad killed himself instead of choosing a life with me. And then after that Mom left me too. She left me every day to figure out how to live in a world of pain and grief and no parents. And I was a kid so I didn’t know how to be good, and I wound up finding bad ways to BE and look what happened—I broke. It’s my fault.

Why is it your fault?

Okay it’s not my fault. It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just what happened.

And then the people who took advantage of you?

Yeah, that’s messed up. That’s not my fault either. I was just a hurt little girl without any supervision. I’m sorry I judged that hurt little girl.

Does it still feel dangerous to open your heart and let someone get close to you? 

Yeah a little. Okay a lot. But in my head I know that it isn’t…it’s just a feeling that lives in my throat.

What would happen if you did it?

I don’t know, I guess Ben was the first time I tried, and that got cut short.

What’s the worst that could happen?

I get heartbroken again.

Okay, what’s the best way to protect yourself? Close off?

No no. I do the thing. I get on antidepressants to help even me out while I’m having these stupid anxiety attacks and I stay on them for a while in case things don’t go well and I start to freak out. I talk to my therapist and do my stupid therapy homework that I hate even though it works.

And then in the meantime I gather evidence to figure out who I can trust.

And Chris? Can you trust him?

I haven’t seen any reason not to. It feels like he has pulled away a bit, but I can’t know why unless I ask.

That’s all?

No, I also have to show up fully and speak up authentically.

Okay. Well then you know what to do. 

Aaaand not so disappointed

​I’m proud of myself!

I didn’t freak out about not hearing from Chris. I just stuck to my other plans with Miguel and Marina. I danced in the parade! I went to the hash after and enjoyed beer and a very tasty salad thing with avocado and eggs and deliciousness. And I saw many costumes, and enjoyed being out. I sent Chris a little video of my costume and when he got back to me hours later (he was asleep all day) I DID THE THING.

What thing?

The honesty thing! “I was disappointed to not hear from you but also…I was glad you were spending time having fun with the dudes.”

I was honest and warm. I can do that! I can say when I have a bad feeling and it doesn’t mean that someone will reject me! Wouldja look at that!

Disappointed

If I have initiated all of the contact in a week, does that mean someone doesn't want to see me?

If I am feeling disappointed because he said "let's touch base Sunday" and then he didn't, is that on me for not saying I am feeling insecure about having initiated all of our contact lately and that I want him to be the one to reach out?

Do I read too much online dating advice trying to figure out how to date like an actual adult? 

Anyway, I feel disappointed. I fear that my inauthentic lying garbage behavior has put me in this precarious position. He's been distant ever since that night when I lied to him about the aliens. (Sidebar on that - my friend said "Of course he believes in aliens. He's a comic book writer." and that realization made me enjoy that he believes in aliens.)

Miguel wants me to be safe, so Miguel said I should wait for him to come to me. So I guess I'm spending Halloween with Miguel and Marina and not with Chris...but on the bright side, I'll be with Miguel and Marina, and I am 100% confident they love me just the way I am, and Miguel is such a good friend that I have somehow moved beyond any need to lie to him!

Well I’m back. And I've been lying this whole time.

​hi. 

It’s been a long time. Probably because I have spent a great deal of that time avoiding having feelings. All that depression, anxiety, ADHD, codependency, speculation about cyclothymia or even bipolar? Turns out it's just complex PTSD. C-PTSD is a nice term for "really fucked up childhood." The only shocker here is that it took me 34 years to figure it out.

Well... yes and no. One of the hallmarks of C-PTSD is the way it changes your brain into a wily fox that can dodge in and out of your consciousness, and loves to masquerade as, well... all those things I listed above that mental health care providers have suggested might be a problem. Turns out it can even cause autoimmune problems. (Perhaps I'll elaborate when there's an appropriate moment, but I was just diagnosed with Inflammatory Bowel Disease, wherein the immune system attacks your large intestine. Fun!)

Anyway, I've known C-PTSD is a thing for me since my dear sister found Surviving to Thriving a few years ago. Even though I read that and The Body Keeps the Score*, I never really fully grasped just how big a hold this thing has on me, and kind of figured that my journey with my therapist would just work things out. I guess I just expected that, now that I knew what the problem was, it would just go away. 

HAHAHAHAHAHA

A few months ago, Laura, my sister, brought her 12 year old daughter to visit me here. They noted how I was constantly on the move, trying to always do more more more, to squeeze more into their visit and to show my niece every cool thing there was to see here. In fact, since Laura's cancer diagnosis (more on that later too), she can't do as much as she used to, and even though she was doing a bit better than she had been, my drive to be DOING so much became a point of contention between us. A couple months later she told me that my need to be constantly on the move reads to her as inauthentic or desperate, like I can't just sit with myself. 

This is something I've been ruminating on for a couple of months now. It's been floating in the back of my mind while I watched countless episodes of Drag Race and did months of crossword puzzles, avoiding a confrontation with...well..with anything. Meanwhile, I signed up to make Laura's youngest daughter a Halloween costume well beyond the scope of my sewing capabilities, my old clunky SUV died in Pennsylvania, I've been dating again. I've been barely working and thus freaking out about finances constantly, in spite of which I planned a birthday party and made a costume for myself for that, plus I have spent an inordinate amount of time online shopping for....what? I have no idea. I've bought things, but I really could not tell you I needed any of them. I just wanted to spend the time on... something. Anything. Anything but having to confront what's wrong.

Enter Chris. Like I said, I've been dating again, prompted by knowing I had time off of work after finishing the World's Hardest Pilot. Who wants to sit around and deal with themselves when they're not working? Not me! So I got back on the apps and started making a few dates. Then there was Chris--a guy I knew. A really hot guy I knew way back when I was a PA. God knows when I met him or when the last time I'd seen him was, I just knew him. I think maybe I met him in 2010? 2011? Anyway, whenever that was, he immediately registered my crush and I used to get in trouble with the ADs for flirting and chatting with him. I think I used to run away from him a lot because I liked him so much and it scared me.

Anyway, present day! Let's focus on the present. I saw Chris on the app, and I clicked like, because I liked him. It was very pleasing when I saw that he had already clicked on me! Then he wrote me a message. I could kind of hardly believe that. Then he asked me to hang out. I was certain this was not a date, that it was just about catching up. It was a date. He likes me! Turns out Chris likes me, and I like him. Or he liked me... I kind of am not sure if he still does. More on that later. But anyway, liking Chris and trying to date him has backed me into a corner of wondering who the fuck I am and why the fuck he might ever want to be with me. I couldn't figure it out until he told me he believes in aliens. 

I was a little floored by that. He has exhibited much in the way of being susceptible to conspiracy theories, and I had been wary of this, unsure what my feelings were. But when he said he believed in aliens, it was too much confrontation for my unsure-of-its-feelings brain and I shut it down with a lie, paraphrased: "I've never really thought about that. It just isn't something I have wanted to think about." 

Right after I said it, I knew I had lied. I let it go, believing it was a white lie and didn't really matter. But it stuck with me. I could have just told him the truth: I needed more time to find my feelings about it. My sister used to watch things with aliens that scared me when I was little and so I have enjoyed believing that science shows us that sentient beings from outside Earth are not likely to exist. These are innocuous truths; why hadn't I just said them instead?

That same evening I lied some more, although perhaps more to myself. I asked him what he wanted us to be, something amorphous like that. I told myself I was asking the right question, but I was too scared to ask if he felt like we saw enough of each other or too much, if he wanted us to be exclusive or preferred to keep things open and casual. I botched it though. When I clarified I just said I wanted to know what he wants. It blew up in my face, he asked if I was seeing other people. I told him I was, which I had told him up front... and he was incredulous. He obviously had not expected that. I was a little drunk and kind of hoping it would make him laugh told him about a grip I'd gone on a couple coffee dates with. 

And then I wondered why his communication changed with me. Jesus fucking christ.

The lie stuck with me, and slowly it has become apparent to me that I have been lying constantly for the last 35 years. At 7, not knowing how to deal with my dad's suicide (not the worst part), I ate and got obese and my fatness gave me some social anxiety (not the worst part). When I engaged with the kids on my block, they teased me mercilessly (not the worst part). When I went to my mom for help, she continually told me to ignore them or avoid them and left it at that - and THAT is the worst part. That part taught me that I could not count on her for help. My sister didn't help either; in fact, she teased me about my weight too. That taught me I could not count on her for help. I was alone, and the only way to soothe myself was to hide in my books and write my stories (and eat, because food will fix it! And steal, because stuff will fix it!). And if I wanted to do that all the time, I had to get my mom and my sister and my teachers and everyone else out of my way. I had to control the narrative. I had to lie. Constantly. 

And I never learned to stop. I've dealt with negative consequences over and over and over, but never anything so bad as to make me stop. In fact, some of the lighter consequences just made me better at lying, or at least better at convincing myself of things that are not true. Thinking back now, I think I can see where others have seen it in me and decided to disengage with me or stop trusting me...friends, lovers, coworkers, bosses, even Laura. 

For 35 years of my life I have been faking that I'm perfect - and obviously nobody's perfect and obviously my constant inability to be authentic has led to some REALLY imperfect shit (being late because I am dishonest with myself about the amount of time I need to get things done, not following through on things because I convinced myself I'd have more time or energy, failing to ask for help when I was overwhelmed, taking jobs I was not particularly qualified for, getting drunk and saying things--true or false--that conflict with lies I've already told, etc., etc...) Anyway, I have been doing my best to control the narrative of my life so that I look as perfectly imperfect as possible, even down to having a separate blog from this blog back in the day because I was afraid that people who knew about this blog would see certain things that I felt I wanted to write about but was afraid to show them! 

I have lied to my therapist, I have lied to my family, I have lied to my friends and employers and definitely to my lovers, and basically anybody that I care about. In fact, the more I care about someone's opinion, the more I lie to them to try to make myself look better to them. No wonder I keep getting my heart broken! No wonder I have had friction and frustration from Aunt Jude, whose judgement I inexplicably fear above all others! No wonder I barely know what my feelings are or who I am and can't identify what value I bring to this world--I have been lying to myself over and over and over!

I am so, so ashamed of myself. I am ashamed that I have been dishonest with so many people. But I am also ashamed that this fucked up bullshit has robbed years away from a life I wish I could have lived honestly. 

That all ends now. No more lying. No more pretending to be anything other than what I am. I am shooting for radical honesty--Laura made me laugh when she said that if I do that, my tendency to lie will probably help me fall somewhere in the middle. But I really hope not. I really really want to be honest. With you, with myself, with anyone who will listen. I'm not perfect, and I'm exhausted of trying to pretend that I ever could be. I just want to be me. 

The little girl I used to be believed it when bullies told her she was disgusting and unlovable, and she kept lying because she desperately wanted to hide those qualities from other people. But now that I'm a big girl I know that the right thing to do was to tell that little girl that those bullies were wrong, and to show the bullies that they were wrong by being the best person she could be. If I'm going to be my best, I have to let others help me. I have to let people in on who I really am, flaws and all, instead of just trying to control the narrative. 

So. Radical Honesty is the new directive. Let's see where it gets us.

*Since we're being radically honest, I got through about a third of The Body Keeps the Score and was no longer able to pay attention because... Attention is hard for trauma brain that wants to hide from its trauma. Especially attention to subject matter that forces one to see the trauma brain for what it is. I listened to Surviving to Thriving on audiobook, which, since I'm constantly listening to podcasts, means I can tell you some of the highlights but certainly didn't deeply retain a lot of its contents. I just learned that the trauma brain doesn't learn from listening too well, something that I suspect may be covered in the book.