08 February 2008

Unsettled

I feel unsettled.

A friend of mine told me yesterday that she dreamt her boyfriend cheated on her. When she woke up she furiously asked him How could you! and he quite sanely replied It's your dream, I have nothing to do with this. You know clusters, we recently had one in school for feline hepatic lipidosis. Actually not frequent in Portugal and yet out of 7 cats that had been admitted 2 had it and 3 more were suspected of having it. Dreams, then. I have been discussing dreams with V. and Diana bcs mine have been truly demented in subject. Not frightening, just absolutely mad. Last night - this night - just now - you know what I mean - was no different, the only difference was, I dreamt of Spike.

I know why I dreamt of Spike.

My dreams are always technicolour and extremely vivid and I sometimes even dream in languages I don't master but are the real languages all the same. Even in my dreams I seem to be enamoured of languages enough that it doesn't cross my subconscious to have me speak them when in reality I don't know how to, I simply participate in a conversation in Dutch using my German or I listen to 2 people speaking Finnish and wish the whole while I knew what the bloody hell they're yapping about. Other times it's not quite this simple and I have felt things brewing, the way things brew when you are mostly done with it but all is not quite expunged.

I am not good at simply letting things go, I have mentioned it over and over again and it remains sadly true no matter how often I repeat it, they need to make some sort of sense first. If I don't have the chance of sorting it out through talking, of saying the things I feel need to be said, it can last for years, or it can last forever. I can ruminate forever if I feel the circle is left opened. Others are able to simply tuck things away and leave them be, it is what it is, full period. I, on the other hand, know that it is what it is but part of that which is is being able to dissect it, in my mind, with my friends, with the people concerned, in writing - above all, in writing. This is how I find out what I truly feel, my filtre, my cleansing, my ultimate salvation.

Spike.

Spike has shown me there are things I need to address, no escape. You probably won't remember this post, all one line of it, but I do, and I also remember what lay behind it. I never blogged about it bcs I felt utterly ridiculous on a superficial level and because, on a deeper level, I knew that if I blogged abt it I would get up, go into the office and say I did try, it's never going to work, it needs to be over now. And I wasn't ready for it then, and you now know why.

The truth is, as I was watching those last Buffy seasons I became more and more aggravated with the Defunct. He wasn't Spike, see. I went abt my life enraged at the man, really enraged, bcs he couldn't be more like some non-existent undead character in a series abt vampires and their slayer. And not being particularly stupid I knew, down where I could cope with it, that this had nothing to do with Spike himself, it had to do simply with the fact that, when it came to respect and personality, I liked and admired the fiction far better than the real man I had in my own home. There, I've said it. And in the last comment of the Spike post V. complains abt my having been silent for quite a while but really, what was there to say but the truth after that? And abt a week after that, shocker, we did break up.

My dreams are showing me there are things I need to talk abt and I don't know how, I don't know if I can. You all kept saying, when Uzi died and then when he kept dying, how strong I was. I still don't think I am bcs if I were I wouldn't have waited for life to finally do it for me, which is what I did, rather cowardly. And if I were, I would have taken a certain person by the shoulders long ago and given them a vigorous shake and this is not Defunct-related but in a way it is, bcs see, I am still not quite myself yet even though I thought I was. The old me would have created an opportunity for this herself, what the fuck. This me, the me that, I am now realising, is a bit more battered than previously suspected, just waited and waited for life to place the opportunity before her. And that is simply not how life works - not mine anyway. And I miss me, the old fierce me that didn't wait meekly for things to happen but made them happen through claws and roars when her quality of life was at stake.

I said I've laid it all to rest in a way that amazed even me and it is true for the most part. I have laid the man to rest. I haven't blogged abt some conclusions I've reached but though bad they aren't too bad and I simply didn't care to waddle through the muck any longer. But the one bit I haven't blogged abt is the one that broke me, it fucking broke me, bcs I operate on absolute trust. And I know this is ridiculous of me, I'm 36, I cannot be this naive anymore, but I cling to loyalty and trust as categoric imperatives bcs this is what I know, this is how I have been raised, this is the only way I know how to be. I am proud of a lot of things in my life but the one thing I am truly, TRULY proud of is the fact that I am a really good person. I am, and I am glad I am, and I wouldn't have it any other way. If you're not decent you have nothing, regardless of how much you think you have. But this leaves me wide open, I think, this leaves me vulnerable bcs at my age you should know better than to believe that everyone will behave the way you do or the way they say they will and always be decent, fundamentally. I feel utterly stupid even writing abt it really.

So, there are things I probably should blog abt but I don't see how bcs they are so fucking ugly I still cannot believe it all happened to me. And if I blog abt it I am afraid it will sound as though I am attacking the Defunct and it's not abt him anymore, it's abt how anyone could behave in such a way and its consequences for myself and the way I see the world now. I wish I could express it better. There was exactly one post, right after the shit hit the fan, where I was a bitch. I don't regret it one bit, I am not ashamed of it, it needed to happen, it did, it worked, I went back to being a different sort of me, the real me, the one I can live with on a permanent basis. When I mention him it's not to expose him, it's to save me. I have already received an email regarding that post I link to above abt why I stayed in the relationship expressing some degree of solidarity towards the Defunct. And I believe that if you have a blog you need to be ready for people to disagree with you, if they do it respectfully. I'd hate to have one of those blogs where no one can criticise the blogger for the hordes of commenters come to their defense wearing nothing but fire-sharpened spears, too much like a cult, too much living with one's nose up someone else's arse. But if I bare my soul, and it would take every bit of courage and fibre I possess to do it, I risk a comment saying Oh that wasn't so bad, this is what's been bothering you?? and I don't know how I would deal with that bcs to me it's been so much worse than bad I am afraid I won't even be able to find the words to tell you how the incomprehension still robs me of my breath at times. Also, I am afraid that - and I am being as honest as I can - if I blog abt it I will have hardly any feedback. I don't have the sort of blog where people comment a lot, I have far more lurkers than commenters and that is fine except for those times when I truly open up. If I know they are reading and can't be bothered to comment I feel like what I've said is worth so little I'd be better off talking to a wall bcs those are the times I could really use some... validation, I suppose, and anyone who says it needs to come from the inside is just fooling themselves, my inside knows what it is and what it has a right to but these are the times when mostly what comes from the outside matters bcs this is how you see what's being mirrored back to you. And it's ironic (more than you know) bcs it's been pointed out to me that those very posts are the ones that drive people away the most, either bcs they feel they have nothing to offer, which is something that post-Uzi I'll never understand, or bcs they're so intense people don't know how to cope with it so they just get the bloody hell out. And more power to them if it is so, I'd never want people to feel forced to comment either, I could never abide small talk or forced empathy, I'm just trying to find out what I can and cannot handle. Recently someone told me they don't comment bcs they are intimidated by me, and this is someone with whom I had established a fair degree of intimacy and yet - intimidated. By me. I think back to the posts I most often write and they're just, I don't know, staggeringly normal. In fact, I find them so ordinarily dull I'm often surprised anyone takes the time to comment apart from my friends. The subject isn't particularly brilliant, the writing isn't
particularly brilliant, I don't understand any of it but if writing abt my pets and piles and exams and parrots barfing in my ear intimidates people what hope is there for when Pandora's box is opened? It will be the equivalent of those dreams where you walk naked into a room full of people, only this time they don't even deign to look at you, do my mental thighs look big in this?

Furthermore, if I blog abt it it will forever be immortalised in the ether. If I don't, however, I will keep dreaming and I will keep ruminating but not in a good way, more like a tympanic way. So I need to take a screw trocar to my hide, I know I do, just blogging abt whether to blog abt it has lifted a weight off my shoulders but I don't really know whether I should, or how to do it.

What do I do?

8 furballs:

Savtadotty said...

Well, here's what I think. You should sleep on this post, and then if you still feel you need to blog about whatever, write the whatever post and keep it as a draft and see what happens to the dreams and then if you still feel you need to blog about the whatever you can tinker with the post a bit and finally you can publish it and then if you feel too weird you can delete it!

How's that for incremental risk-taking?

Either way, I know you are a good person and will still bake you a pie whenever you visit!

orodemniades said...

I was going to say something uncommonly witty and bright, but then I read sav's post and decided s/he'd already made the points I was going to make.

As for naivete, well, why shouldn't we believe and trust in people? Just because we get burned sometimes, that doesn't mean there aren't more good people than crappy manipulative ones out there.

Udge said...

Yeah, what Savtadotty said. Four (or five) step program: write, but don't necessarily hit "publish".

Dull is in the eye of the beholder, you know. Trust us that your posts are indeed quite normal in the sense of "not wierd", but they are highly personal and untypical and in that sense not the norm.

FWIW, I found hearing words to the effect of "oh, that's not so bad" from my therapist to be both helpful and enhumbling: I am not a monster, but I'm also not as special as I'd thought.

And finally: your thighs would look wonderful in anything at all, my dear. (ducks and runs)

Chimmy's Ghost said...

First, I've been reading you for years and I never knew you were 2 years older than me. I know this is a rather unremarkable revelation, but it is still a revelation.

Don't worry...it doesn't change my opinion of you. I've always admired your absolute candor (and ability to write so much day after day). You're a blogging juggernaut.

Also, I've always know that you were a multilingual person, but I never gave much thought as to why you chose to blog in English. Naturally, I'm glad you do... because I would not be able to understand you if you didn't (and you do it quite well, if not better than most English-speaking people).

Most of all, I read you consistently because you ALWAYS open Pandora's box. I don't know if that makes you strong, but it makes you...hmmmm, it makes you...daring? You put it all out on the line. Your intense feelings, your fears, your complaints, your life...if you're holding back then I'm completely ignorant of it.

Anyway, as for your dreams? I have no idea what significance they hold. I've had multiple dreams where I get in fights with the Bruce Willis from Die Hard.

What the hell does that mean? I have no idea.

Zhyph said...

Oi... este deve ser o meu primeiro comentário... principalmente devido ao facto q eu normalemente leio ao teu lado e digo-te logo o q penso ou q acho... mas como já há muito tempo q não falamos, devidi ver como andavas e vim aqui dar uma espreitadela...
Estive seriamente a pensar se escrevia em inglês ou em português, decidi-me (obviamente) pelo português pois estou a escrever para ti e realmente n me interessa se os outros percebem ou não, e como consigo desabafar e falar o que eu penso mais facilmente na minha lingua... decidi-me assim, espero q n te importes, qq coisa traduzes :p

Bem, em relação ao não seres o teu antigo eu... estás a esquecer-te de uma coisa... este curso, principalmente em alturas de exames, mas não só, de ano para ano, suga-nos todas as forças, principalmente para as questões mais emocionais... ficamos mais fracas e portanto, mais submissas, simplesmente o que precisamos é de carinho, de alguém q nos compreenda e segure a mão. E qdo levamos porrada em cima de porrada da vida (ou dos homens, se quiseres assim pôr), a nossa coragem, força de vontade e confiança, simplesmente vai esvanecendo... Mas aqui vai um prognóstico positivo... só falta mais UM semestre!!! Isso vai acabar e nós vamos conseguir voltar a ser nós de novo! Vamos conseguir voltar a lutar pelo que nós qremos, pela vida. Vamos conguir voltar a gritar sem medo "NO SIR!". Vais ver! Enquanto isso, só podemos lamber a nossa ferida no cantinho e esperar q mais nenhuma parte do telhado nos caia em cima com medo q não o possamos sustentar. Mas tudo isso vai passar e pensamento positivo, daqui a 7 meses, tás tu naquela clínica q tanto querias trabalhar fazendo o que tu qrias tanto fazer, podia haver melhor recompensa q isso?

Agora pelo outro lado, se não tivessemos passado estes 6/7 anos infernais, nós não nos teríamos conhecido, e gosto de pensar q, por isso, até não foi mau de todo. Principalmente pelo facto de seres uma boa pessoa, e não consigo te ver de outra maneira, por isso, não mudes nunca, a culpa disso tudo é dos outros de serem maus, e nunca nossa de esperarmos q eles sejam bons! De q eles não façam aquilo que nós nunca faríamos. Espero q não mudes nunca, pq por mais que nos magoemos com mais frequencia q outros, conseguimos ver o mundo de cores que outros não conseguem. Por mais que penses que eles são maus e nós é q nos "fuck", não é verdade. Nós nos ferimo, sim, mas eles vão pagar, mais cedo ou mais tarde pelos erros deles (tenho a certesa), nunca vão conseguir ser realmente felizes! E nós... continuaremos a ver o nosso mundo cor de rosa :D e SEREMOS FELIZES! E com nossas feridas, aprendemos e tornamo-nos pessoas ainda melhores. Tornamo-nos mais fortes (pelo menos depois deste malfadado curso).
Não entendi nada do teu sonho... depois explicas-me melhor, pq depois deste pequeno testamento, tenho de voltar para as patologias dos testículos hehehehe :D

Um beijo enorme, e ja sabes q sempre q precisares falar, tou cá!

José said...

Hummm... how can I comment this post?
I agree with Udge when he says that your blog is highly personal. Well, not always, as a matter of fact, but I’m afraid we are entering another era of intimacy.
Sometimes I feel like a voyeur, yet a fascinated one, reading your soul-stripping posts. You know how we, Porties, are dealing with large amounts of intimacy...uncomfortable, at least.
Na realidade hesitei em comentar este post.
Nem sequer está muito na minha natureza “meter-me” na vida de desconhecidos. Mas, esta realidade virtual propicia os conhecimentos e as amizades igualmente virtuais.
Afinal, é a J. quem pede apoio.
O post é extenso – abarca diversas questões – e profundo – entra bem dentro do seu interior.
Há duas ou três palavras/frases que julgo que serão chaves neste seu post.
Writing – a necessidade de escrever o que lhe vai na alma, sobretudo quando esta se encontra agravada, dorida. Óptimo! Faça-o! Mas não é bem essa a verdadeira questão, não é?
O que lhe pesa, não é a escrita, mas a sua publicação no blog. Bem vê, se a necessidade de se exprimir passasse apenas pela mera escrita, ou pelo envio de uma missiva a um amigo/a, ou o desabafo pudesse ser feito por uma (longa) conversa, este problema não se colocava.
No entanto, esse não é your way.
Validation – a publicação em blog leva-nos a esta nova palavra-chave. Não basta apenas a escrita. É necessário algum grau de aceitação, de compreensão pelos problemas a revelar, misturado com algum receio de que, afinal, alguns venham a achar que as questões, longamente ruminadas até se tornarem uma massa demasiado densa e pesada na sua alma, afinal podem vir a ser consideradas vulgares e, até! menorizadas num universo de leitores com experiências em relações falhadas, doridas, atraiçoadas.
Decent – Embora só a conheça deste mundo virtual, é também essa a minha opinião de si: que é uma pessoa decente, uma boa pessoa. Igualmente essa é, para mim, a avaliação final que se pode ter de alguém, porque… ou se é, ou não se é boa pessoa.
Evidentemente que uma boa pessoa não está livre de cometer erros, e Deus sabe quantos eu cometi na minha vida. Arrependo-me de quase todos, mas só tenho verdadeiros remorsos daqueles que tive consciência – ou, pelo menos, deveria ter entendido – que iria ou já estava a cometer.
E é o que julgo que está a acontecer consigo: receia que o seu intenso desejo de desabafar via blog seja um erro do qual se irá arrepender mais tarde, com o pior dos remorsos, aquele de quem está consciente que sabe que vai cometer um disparate e ainda assim não o evita.
É bem evidente que está muito magoada com o ex-Loverboy – não, não consigo dizer Defunct – e que acha que ele terá arruinado a relação com actos inqualificáveis.
Contar a sua perspectiva do caso – sim, é apenas a sua perspectiva e há sempre (pelo menos) duas perspectivas sobre a mesma realidade. Aliás, e seguindo um clássico do humor judaico, e se bem o entendi, dois judeus facilmente têm três opiniões sobre o mesmo assunto, não é? – decerto que fará correr tinta consoladora e indignada dos seus (muitos) amigos e admiradores que a lêem e comentam. Mas não deixará de ser vista como uma inconfidência, como uma atitude menos acertada, menos nobre, um deslize de uma pessoa boa. É claro que esta será a avaliação feita pelos que a lêem pelas lentes da amizade. Mas haverá outros e haverá um que se sentirá exposto e injustiçado. Se o merece ou não, saberá a J. O que eu sei – ou julgo, ou quero julgar saber – é que a J. não merece esse deslize.
Depois de ler o que escrevi acima, estou hesitante em saber se falhei a minha vocação e deveria ter optado pelo sacerdócio ou pela psicanálise…
É claro que se a conhecesse pessoalmente, se fosse seu amigo, não perderia o meu latim, antes a abanava pelos ombros, intimava-a a não ser tola e perguntava-lhe qual o ombro que escolhia para desabafar e/ou carpir mágoas, sabendo a J. que a inconfidência tinha sido imediatamente tumulada.
Ora, essa alternativa já lhe foi oferecido num comentário anterior e decerto que terá ainda outros (as) amigos(as) que possam ouvir/dialogar/dissecar/aconselhar/… as suas dores de alma até que estas passem a fazer parte do catálogo de memórias que todos nós temos na vida, sem que, no acto, se venha a acrescentar outra.
“What do I do?”
Isso é o que eu faria.
José
P.s. Bons exames!

Ana said...

I don't necessarily disagree with everyone else, but it's rather obvious to me. What do you do? You blog about it. If later you feel you should delete you delete it.

Lioness said...

You lot are amazing, thank you thank you THANK YOU, especially the ones who nver comment and took the time to, you've helped me a lot! Things are far mores orted out now in my mind. New post explains all.