Before I start the post, I want to apologise to any readers who are here to actually read about actual feminism and are stuck reading about all my personal thoughts and opinions and events instead. If I was more like a certain someone, I’d make up multiple blogs and keep everything distinctly separate, but I’m not, so I don’t. So here’s yet another deeply personal post that may not mean anything to any of you, and that you may all find boring, but one I choose to write for my own reasons and purposes. Cause it’s my blog and all 🙂
Now, I’ve already covered my defense mechanisms and the fact that I pull back from people all the time over anything and everything and nothing. I’m choosing not to link out of laziness, but you’ve all read/seen the posts, so it’s ok. Anyway, I was thinking about this today in great detail. I’m currently on two days sick leave as ordered by my doctor and I’m going stir-crazy. But apparently, coughing up blood means you should not be at work, especially when your work involves talking as much as possible all day. But I digress.
As a general rule, I’m not an open person. I don’t share my problems or my thoughts or my feelings. I keep them inside. I have a very small handful of friends that I will discuss my issues with, and this handful gets smaller every day. I try as hard as I can to bury everything deep down inside and ignore it. I mostly come across as carefree and happy and outgoing and friendly. And I am, as long as you don’t go digging.
Now, the flipside to this is, when I open up to someone, I tend to regret it. It usually happens when I’m at breakdown point and cannot keep everything buried anymore. Or before I’ve had a chance to bury something new. Or when I’m drunk on a Friday night and should really, absolutely learn to turn my fucking phone off and put it away. So my first instinct once I’m back to being the tightly controlled me I strive so hard to be most of the time is to put distance between myself and the friend I turned to. I pull back and I shut down and I smile and wave and make them think they’ve imagined something along the way.
When things ended with EN I ended up on a friend’s (H) couch crying my eyes out and talking about anything and everything and nothing. The thing with H, though, she didn’t let me pull away. She messaged me almost daily to make sure I was ok, she organised outings, she did everything she could to make sure I was actually ok and not just burying everything. H is an open and loving person who would not agree with my methods and would never pull away from a friend for the reasons I do. I thought it would be different this time, so I trialled out the whole ‘turning to people’ thing. H is the friend in this post that decided she wanted to spend less time with each other. After becoming that dependent on someone, having the rug pulled out from underneath you is not fun. She’s currently doing everything she can to repair this, but she can’t. You cannot fix something that’s buried, and all the hurt and all the pain and everything I felt is now buried. It’s been two weeks, long enough to put that where it belongs.
The pattern that starts to develop from all of this is slightly startling when I really look into it. I can now see each of my friendships in a very different light to how I previously did. Most of my friends that have been around the longest are not people I’ve ever turned to when I’ve hit breaking point (or when I’ve been drunk 😉 ). Because those people do not last; I walk away. I have a close friend that lives on the other side of the world that I only talk to online (until September!!!!), and when eight things go wrong in my life at once, I avoid chatting with her.* It’s too much to sit there and face my problems in such a direct way by typing them out. But I always end up back talking with her. I just wait til it’s all buried. In other cases, I pull away and don’t go back. If I think I’ve turned to one person too much, I will put distance there. It happens without me noticing, and then one day I realise I’ve asked for advice or turned to the same person 4 days in the last week, and I shut down. Too much dependence there and I don’t like it. The price you pay for being a friend I depend on, is ultimately the friendship.
I was recently given (asked for) advice** that I should be honest with myself and authentic with others. I don’t know how to do either. There are so many layers, so many games, so many buried, suppressed things, I cannot honestly say I know how to be authentic. And I work hardest to fool myself. If I don’t believe that everything is ok, how can it be ok? And this is the point in my train of thought where plateboy’s extended time in my life started to make sense. He saw there was more than what was on the surface and he kept digging to find as much as he could. I found myself willingly telling him things that were buried a long time ago, and I wondered if it could actually work out; if I’d actually found someone I could be me with… Well, we all know how that turned out.
And therein also lies the real reason I don’t want people in my real life reading this blog. Out of the ones who have access^, there are a few categories. The internet ones I’m least uneasy about, for a whole gardenful of reasons that I’m not going to go into. K, you would only get told all of this stuff anyway, so it’s easier for me to have you read it all on here. Saves my voice and my phone bill, and means you can fit me into your busy schedule much easier :P. And there are two others, and I’m not going there. You figure out why you have access and what that means to me.
If any of this made any sense to any of you, or was the least bit interesting, then I’m glad. I’m just confused and trying to process.
*and if you ever wondered why I keep disappearing for days on end, you know now. Especially in the days following the death.
** important to differentiate between asked for advice and F!M!W! (Fresh! Manly! Wisdom!).
^ and it’s odd to put a description of you all in here when I know you’re reading it.