With a Sense of Poise and Rationality

March 2010 September 2010 November 2010 December 2010 January 2011 February 2011 March 2011 April 2011 May 2011 June 2011 July 2011

Yesterday I realized how terrified I am of being put on a permanent leash. I mean, I’ve always known it, but only yesterday did I realize the extent of that aversion.

Had to babysit for the weekend, canceling all plans to take a weekend off from having to deal with the family. We went to one of my cousin’s relative’s first communion, while everyone left to PV.

Would have been nice to be asked whether or not I wanted to go as well, not for the sake of the wedding they’d be attending, but because my mother fell seriously ill only a couple days prior. Still, can’t expect everyone to think of being polite or considerate on the same terms.

Drama ensued profusely, none involving me thank goodness. Well, only a little bit involving me toward the end.

Dealing with that side of my uncle’s family is always stressful, because I’m an outsider. I don’t share their same social circle, their same socioeconomic status. The only link I have is my uncle and their family, so when they’re around, it’s ok.

This time however, it was just my little cousin and myself. Sweet Jesus, was that stressful. I was expecting to be eaten alive in there.

It was nerve wrecking freaking out over every single little detail in terms of dress and posture and proper etiquette. It was a High Protocol thing for us outsiders, since everyone already belonging to the circle could be as vulgar as they pleased and it wasn’t in bad taste, because their sense of ‘class’ and membership to the circle didn’t really have to be proved.

The funny thing about interacting with that specific circle, is that no one knows who I am. I mean, not really. They know me as my mother’s daughter, my uncle’s godchild/niece, but not really who I am. It’s a funny feeling.

And it really says something about my mother and the good impression she left in that family. Everyone had lovely things to say about her, and told me to send their regards, and said she was very beautiful and that I looked just like her (which I still don’t see).

My little cousin and I were talking to one of her cousins, who is also a pretty hot bastard about going to a Rammstein concert. For whatever reason, his girlfriend refused to join him, so we said we’d dress up and everything.

At one point I was left alone with this lovely lady who was just very fun and whom I could talk to freely, and the lady who organized the lunch sat next to me, engaging in a conversation that more or less looked like this:

Her: You’re Claudia’s daughter, my brother’s niece.

Me: Yes, yes I am.

Her: -she sits down, leaning in, looking at me, then at the other lady- I’ve always thought you were very pretty. You have a lovely nose and features— Isn’t she a pretty girl?

Me: ……You’re very sweet, thank you –really embarrassed-

She asked me my age, and I understood something along the lines of needing to marry me off. At this point she was whispering about with the other lady, and I could barely hear what they were saying, so I was just nodding my head, being agreeable, until she said ‘So what do you think?’, to which I replied ‘Sure, why not?’.

I had no idea what the heck I was saying yes to. I thought they were planning on setting me up and playing matchmakers with someone.

Suddenly she asks what I think about her son, meaning my cousin’s cousin who’s also a hot bastard. I said that he was handsome, and that yes, I liked him, he seemed like a nice guy.

I didn’t realize I was digging my self into a hole, but it wasn’t like I could say ‘No, he does not interest me, not my type’. This woman would have killed me, being the castrating dominant woman she is.

So I’m asked about marrying, and I just give vague, non-committing answers, trusting he’s already got a girlfriend.

Well, ends up being the lady does not like her, and she sees me as being better for her son.

Sweet baby Jesus.

All day, and I do mean all day, since we were there from 2-10pm, she kept coming up to me, asking other people ‘Don’t you think she’s pretty? I think she’s very pretty. We’re marrying her off to my son’, then telling me how she’s going to teach me to dress up (I was mildly insulted, because I looked gorgeous in that dress, and my makeup was beautiful) and how to win her son over; that she would be inviting me to her house, along with my little cousin, and that she would take care of everything.

Then she, my little cousin, and the other lady started planning the wedding, and I just gave that awkward laugh I always give when I’m uncomfortable.

I mean, the situation was hilarious, it was just… humiliating. Especially when the lady told her son, right in front of me, that I thought he was hot.

Then she made me go with him, the girlfriend and the rest of the kids to ‘steal him away from her’ because ‘everything’s fair in love and war’.

It was pretty damn funny.

Amusing anecdote aside, I started musing over a bunch of things.

See, if I was a social climbing middle-class girl seeking to be a kept/made woman, that would have been the perfect offer. Joining that family means no financial worries, means joining the rest of their ranks, and living a live of traveling and easy-living (considering this guy’s a surfer).

What would be the price? A meddling in-law controlling me like a puppet, my life revolving around the guy’s life and his plans, potential children, and in essence, giving up my freedom. I would be giving up my freedom in exchange for financial stability and a worry-free life.

I would be miserable. Considering how even more repressed I would be in that context.

I’m too set on my own plans and living my own life to tie myself up to someone else. If someone wants to join me along for the ride, they’re welcome. The moment they want me to go out of my way to fit their own, that’s when we start having trouble.

I thought I had issues about the subject, but it’s not so much issues as it is an instinctual aversion. I’ve talked to enough married women to know it’s not what I want for myself.

Still, the situation was kind of really funny.

Hectic week. Lot’s of changes, too, I will address in bullet point format:

• · Doing great in psych. I’m dropping the med classes, because they’re too much, and interrupting with my functionality, and taking them next semester. My Interview class is the highlight.
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• · I’m loving what I’m learning, but I’m feeling that existential anxiety that I’m getting nowhere, and that due to the nature of what I want to do— therapy—I won’t be done until I’m 29, by which time, I’ll never get to actually live.
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• The thing I need to address here is reframe the way I’m viewing things. Look at the bigger picture, and keep things in perspective.
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• · This weekend I realized that I can’t do my practice here. The place is far too sex negative. The cases are interesting, as are the issues to be addressed, but I just can’t work in this context. It kills me inside. I had to deal with being everybody’s therapist this weekend, and I had to be very careful with how I addressed things. I had to use the frame of reference I was given, and craft out solutions for those specific cases within that particular context and its limitations. I did it. I had no trouble doing it, it just killed my soul a little bit.
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• I want to deal with alternative lifestyles. I don’t mind dealing with vanilla couples and helping them out with their sex lives, but I want to do it in a sex-positive manner. I want to help couples improve their relationships and their sex-lives. I want to help people break off with inhibitions and sex-negative thoughts.
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• · Somehow, I came across a Love Coaching thing where you can get certified to practice. Since it’s a long distance course, I can do it on my own time. It can take me 3 months, maybe 1 year depending on how much work I put into it, then can get certified as a Loveologist and help people with their love-lives and improve their relationships.
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• I wasn’t taking it seriously, until I realized it’s an actual job.
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• · Then I came across Sex Coaching, and got a book on it which gives and in-depth job description. That is exactly what I want to do. So I’m doing Love Coaching first, then investing in Sex Coaching.
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• A key element in the way I deal with people, is in a therapy context. So I need to do therapist thing as well. So I could just certify myself as a Love/Sex Coach and live off of that. But I want to treat people. I want to do therapy. It’s key for me. So I have to go through the 8 years of schooling for it, since there’s no technical school for it.
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• By doing the Love/Sex Coaching, I have a means to make money off of something I love to do, while I work for my therapy license.
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• The Loveology course is paid for already. The Sex Coaching courses, it seems it would be more or less the equivalent of 6 months studying in Canada. So I would have to work over a year, before being able to pay for that.
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• · Addressing the context issue—I need a sex-positive place to practice. I was thinking Seattle, but the US doesn’t really work for me. S said Canada is relatively sex-positive, especially in key cities. I’m thinking of doing my practice somewhere in there.
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• · Not gonna lie. I’m antsy, I’m a bit existential. I want to get out of here. I want to live my life. But then I stop and think—this is your life. Quit going for what you think it ‘should be’, and deal with what is, and make things within your reach as pleasant as possible. Everything is such a damn race, this compulsive yearning to skip to the next level, because in the next level is where you’ll be happy.
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• Stop. Take a freaking chill pill. Do the psych thing, work on the loveology thing on the side, take your time, then go for sex coaching. It’s not a race, it’s not like dropping out and confusing on these short-term gratification courses will change the fact that you live in a specific reality which forces you to stay in this place. The best you can do is make things tolerable, and 90% of that is attitude, so it’s all re-framing how I look at things.

Having very weird mood swings, all leaning towards the depressive kind. Again, dangerous stuff considering where we are in the semester, so I need to get my shit together.

I think I’ve been forgetting to take my meds, which is the only explanation for the sudden shifts.

I’ve been essentially out of it all week.

Today I learned that if a series of disappointments are not followed by positive reinforcement, regardless of the nature of said disappointment, one will feel hurt.

It was interesting. I had to remind myself to keep things in perspective, and take some weight off the trigger, but it was kind of funny, the way the whole thing felt. Very strange and unusual.

Going to Sta. Maria on Saturday, and another concert tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll lift my moods.

Sent in long-term plan to my father (the Canada pitch), and potential houses for rent near the school.

Did some calculations, and it seems if I work for a year give or take a few months, I could study in Canada for the duration of a semester.

	1 year	6 months
VISA	$1,000.00	$1,000.00
Plane Fare	$10,000.00	$10,000.00
Insurance	$6,000.00	$3,000.00
Housing	$96,000.00	$48,000.00
IESP	$3,550.00	$3,550.00
Papers	$2,100.00	$2,100.00
TOTAL	$118,650.00	$67,650.00

I could always just spend all summer, and it’d be tons cheaper.

It’s ridiculous how fed up I am of school. Which is a perfectly normal, as well as recurrent part of just being in college.

Still, I am so burnt out at this point, it’s ridiculous.

Then I’m being an emotional masochist and exposing myself for needless hurt. It’s all curiosity, really. One of those ‘let’s see how much I can take’ experiments.

It’ll be interesting. It always is.

We’re getting to the middle of the semester, and of course, I’m at that point where I’ve stopped caring. Apathy has hit, which is seldom ever a good thing, leaving me no potion but to go out of my way to keep things in perspective and somehow keep motivated.

I think this weekend we’re going to Sta. Maria, but I know if I go, I won’ get anything done, so I’m going to have to be a ‘wet blanket’, and stay here.

I’m wondering whether neurosych and the other med class are a lost cause. I’m ridiculously behind in both of them, have managed to absorb very little (the class is moving too fast for me), and have failed most tests.

In the next few weeks, I’ll have to decide whether to drop them, or power through them. I’m leaning towards dropping them, because there’s really no way I’ll manage to even scratch up a 5.

Which means I’m falling behind… yet again, which does feed into that whole ‘I’m never going to get out of here’ thing, then the whole pride thing of ‘I should be able to take it’, etc. Issues I need to get over.

Need to remind myself this isn’t a race, there’s no timeline, and he point is to suck the marrow out of my classes, not brush through them having learned little to nothing.

Need to remind myself to take it one day at a time, in this very precarious stage in the semester.

Overdue skype date with S. And by overdue, I mean supercalifragilisticallyexpiralidociously fucking overdue.

Caught up, and went over my progress. Apparently I no longer sound like a California valley girl! I sound like a freaking canuck. Which makes sense, given I seem to strictly hang out with Canadians. Apparently I have a type? I didn’t actually notice that until S pointed it out.

Lately I’ve been tempted to reconnect with old friends. There’s the nostalgia as always, and in a way, the wanting to go back to old dynamics because they were comfortable. But then I play scenes in my head, and things simply don’t click. My nostalgic fantasies are based on the premise that I’m the same person I was a couple years ago. They’re based on the premise that they’re the same people they used to be when it was ‘The Good Old Days’.

It all began when I was approached by an old friend and became relatively reacquainted with her. Of course, she’s the first girl’s current primary, so, in the words of Cara in Brideshead Revisited, and paraphrasing D after my conversation with him tonight— tread carefully.

It’s seductive, this idea of falling back into old habits. Seductive enough to flirt with it, not enough to really succumb to it. And both S and D agree it’s not very sensible to dally too much with the potential for reconciliation; that it would be hazardous to my health… and indeed, my doctor agrees. And in essence, I do too. It’s simply nostalgia, as always, and a general distaste for unresolved issues and loose ends.

It seems a recurring thing. It’s like avoiding ex’s at a party, that same instinctive aversion, that gut feeling to stay away for the sake of self preservation after having internalized all the damage inadvertently suffered at their hand, regardless of whether it was intentional, let alone acknowledged or not.

This has been a semester based on exploration in every aspect, seeing what clicks and what doesn’t. The ‘type’ I went for before— emotionally unstable codependents with vampire tendencies and affective disorders, all catering to my caretaker tendencies and messiah complex— no longer work for me.

They’re tempting, as I was telling S, because I’m so familiar with the type, I could have them wrapped around my little finger, and manipulate my way through every little thing, because they’re leaving themselves open to it. The thing being, that implies a dynamic where strict D/s roles in a non-BDSM context apply. And I’m done with that.

I’m a switch. I don’t do fixed settings. The dynamic I have with my latest friend seemed to click in all the right places, giving me an idea of what works for me at this moment in time. And it’s great, it’s actually very healthy. More and more, I find myself in healthy friendships with a comfortable level of attachment.

I’ve taken a very sober attitude about everything, which people assume ‘sucks the life’ out of things, this apparent cynicism, but what I’ve noticed is that this frame of reference intensifies the degree to which I feel things, making me live in the moment, which is something I’ve been wanting to do since forever.

I’m feeling very good about things. And talking to D tonight as well, we touched on the topic of feeling out of place in our current context. Talking to S and D reminded me what it’s like to have LDRs with friends. Something I had missed out on due to school. It reminded me of what it feels like to be understood, despite differing opinions. It was a welcomed breath of fresh air.

S and I got into the topic of whether or not my degree will be valid internationally. I have no clue, but I certainly hope so! Mainly because I know for a fact, I can’t very well do my private practice where I live. I’m leaning towards either Seattle, or Canada. I’m doing the kink-friendly therapist thing, so I kind of need a community that is not underground, or as stigmatized and vaguely scattered as there is here. I’m generally reluctant to pursue anything here, simply because of the cultural context and the gender-biased implications. Which I do realize are a prejudice in itself, I simply have… bad experiences in this particular context and would feel too inhibited to practice freely.

So I’m doing either Canada or Seattle. I’m doing my exchange for the semester in Canada, since they don’t have anything in Seattle. Just a matter of choosing where.

I’ve been relatively pro-active about the move in May, considering everyone leaves everything to the last minute. Been looking online at prices for houses and apartments. I lean towards renting a 3 bedroom house, considering my brother will be moving in the year after.

There’s a place right behind my school I’m interested in. Then there’s a potential place to work at near the school as well, just a couple bus rides away. I’m beginning work as soon as school ends, testing the waters to see if it’s something I can handle working and going to classes.

Things are looking good.

Good lord, life has been hectic. Just to recap very briefly, as I just got back from a concert, and have to go through the whole ‘putting my face to bed’ routine, and …who am I kidding, I’m not even going to bother getting started on all the stuff I have to turn in tomorrow.

In the words of the wonderful Jim Morrison, “No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.” At this point, I’ve fully done the 180 degree shift between Sammy to Jules. I’m not letting academia interfere with my social life. And by social life, I simply mean, interfere from seizing the day going for extracurricular pursuits.

Went to the doctor, and a very peculiar thing happened. I didn’t sleep a wink the night before, and failed the test I had that morning, so going in a couple hours after, I was under the impression I would break down inevitably.

Ironically, I was received in such a way, that it immediately lifted my spirits, and the session was full of sardonic laughter and a feigned sense of outrage.

I went in there feeling I was losing it, that there was something seriously wrong with me, that the disorder was progressing— instead, I go to be told I’m sane, and that it’s not my disorder what’s harming me, but rather the context I currently live in.

Fast forward to my parents coming up for a visit, then going to Sta. Maria for the weekend, where there was a very specific incident where my aunt and my dad ganged up on me over something stupid.

I had asked why we were being deprived of very basic experiences, when we needed them to survive, and develop into fully grown adults. The fact that they insisted on spoon feeding everything to us and ‘saving us from needless suffering’ was harmful.

So this inadvertent attack I seemed to give to their parenting techniques turned into a lecture on how I’m wrong, and there’s something wrong with me, and how I’m never going to be a good psychologist if I keep thinking like that (‘that’, being— refusing in dealing with absolutes such as ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, instead, seeing everything as valid, simply convenient, or not convenient to the person), and how I need to see my shrink, because there is no way my manner of thinking is normal.

So we did that for half an hour, until my father pulled the “You need to grow up” card, which of course, is the lowest blow ever aside from ‘You need to stop being so weak.’, and I simply stormed out of the hot tub area, and into my room, to watch Equilibrium.

Then my mother comes in, who, while she might not agree with everything I say, she does respect my opinions, and I end up breaking down, saying how I’m sick of everyone making me feel that I’m insane and there’s something wrong with me, only to go to my shrink and have him remind me they’re the ones living in the 17^th century.

So that fight illustrated the point my doctor was trying to make.

By terminating previous codependent, toxic relationships, I did a lot of good to my emotional health, and gave myself enough room to grow and explore things I wouldn’t have been able to had I not cut those suffocating ties.

The thing being, by doing so, I also got rid of my emotional support system.

That is something I had not considered, let alone realized.

So I got rid of my emotional support system, and went ahead and lived in a hazardous context for a year and a half. I should have cracked over six months ago, but it seems I have enough personal tools and resources to have myself hang in there for a bit.

For a year and a half, I repressed and internalized all those little things, and they’re beginning to affect me now.

So the only real solutions are to remove myself from that context as soon as possible (which I will around mid may), and in the meanwhile, limit my contact with those key triggers.

A lot of things will change mid-may. All glamour will be lost, but it’s not as though as it hadn’t been disintegrating since last semester, given the country’s situation. So the price of that freedom, is basically the high socioeconomic context I currently am an observant-participant part of.

In a way, it’s not that bad. It’s really not my world. It certainly has its perks, but at this point in the game, it’s doing more harm than good, and there’s not enough perks to make up for it there.

Been looking into adopting a cat. Now that I’ll finally have my own place, I’ll finally get a chance to get a pet. I doubt my sister will be happy but it’s not as though it’ll be her problem to care for it.

I’ve been reading some studies on the effects a pet can have on patients with bipolarity, and while it all seems pretty obvious, people seem to take the results for granted.

When I was around 8, one bright September morning, which coincidentally turned out to be Independence Day, my father brought home a little black schnauzer. He was a feisty little thing that had us running around the living room half in panic half in excitement, in fear of getting bitten.

Since my brother and sister always paired up together, and most of the time, against me, I was left with pretty much no one, given we lived in the middle of nowhere, and there were no other kids. Just a bunch of abandoned houses in a beach-house complex.

The dog took a preference for me. He already had a name— Jimmy— so I never got to give him one, but I had a bunch of nicknames, one of them being ‘ninenaito’. I have no idea what the hell that means anymore. It was some sort of babified word or something that simply turned into that.

And so that dog was my best friend for around 7 years, which were key formative years, until he ran off to die somewhere or something, after I nursed him back to health from an attack by a pair of boxer dogs one distressing Sunday afternoon.

Point being, there was a specific feeling of stability, and comfort, and belonging in the act of caring for that dog, and loving it, and being freely affectionate with it.

Could be just a coincidence, but I stand by notion that the loss of that dog was a correlating fact in the hardcore triggering of my bipolarity, during my teens. You need a triggering event? That would have been it.

I’ve always been bipolar. In retrospect, I fit the child profile perfectly, but it wasn’t until my teens that I realized there was something very wrong, and no one would listen to me (do they ever?) when I begged to go to a psychologist.

Then finally after my aunt bitched at my mom over one of my lash-outs, they took me to a neurologist… who misdiagnosed me with ADHD (wtf? Where does severe depression for over 6 months and mild mania every once in a while, fit in with ADHD?), until finally, they got it right.

I knew that I needed another pet to love and care for, but my parents refused to ever get another pet, so I remained traumatized by the loss of my baby until… pretty much now, considering I’m not breaking down at the thought, let alone the elaborate mention of him.

I should have been taken to therapy after he was gone, but… you know, he was just a dog. Not like he was a family member, or anything. Not like he was my best friend, or the closest thing I had, or the one thing that kept me grounded throughout those years of teenage alienation and instinctive rebellion, and just general rejection from going to a new school with already established cliques, and feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere for being weird (isn’t that the story of my life, though?).

Not as though that dog was the one thing I loved the most in the world, but whatever.

And so now that I’m making a bunch of lifestyle changes, and I’ll be living… essentially alone, considering my sister and I can live in the same house without so much as exchanging a single word for months at a time other than to check in.

I love living alone, I love being alone. I love having my space. I simply don’t like being lonely, and since I really don’t want to invest that need for companionship in a person, given how fickle human relations are, and due to school being my focus, I’m getting myself a feline companion.

Dogs are too much trouble, need too much attention, and for having a working college student as an owner, there would be too much neglect. I’m not getting a kitten for the same reason. Yeah, they’re adorable, but too much maintenance.

Cats are independent, sleep half a day, and will go to you for attention if they feel like it, making them the perfect roommates for me. They’re also wonderful for just having on your lap and cuddling and sleeping with.

I’m getting a cat that’s grown up, still deciding on gender— obviously spayed/neutered, for everyone’s sake.

I remember a former friend of mine and I were planning on adopting one back in Cali. Went to the shelter nearby and everything, but the logistics of the thing simply didn’t make much sense. Now the logistics don’t seem that complex, so it’s something I’m looking forward to.

On my attachment issues:

The same teacher from last time, keeps asking how I’m ‘adjusting’ to this group, and how I ‘feel’ about my classmates.

I always answer truthfully— I’ve gone from calibrating, to simply being indifferent towards them.

He was shocked, and asked why. I replied that it was because they were just classmates, not friends, or people I generally care about, hence I’m indifferent towards them.

This lead to his pushing a freaking button, by psychoanalyzing me— without my consent— to my face, and asking if I had trouble getting along with people, or letting people in.

I said that I had no trouble letting people in. I simply have a preference against it. I don’t like going into groups and pouncing at its members and becoming BFFs with them out of the blue.

My attachment issues don’t mean I have trouble growing attached. Hell, that’s pretty damn easy to do, and I do it even if I don’t want to. No, my ‘issues’ consist in the fact that I don’t like opening up to people.

I don’t care to.

I don’t like having too may people close to me.

It’s emotionally exhausting., and you’re opening yourself up to getting hurt, when half the time it’s not worth it. I choose the people I open up to, and choose who I keep close, on the basis of who I don’t mind getting hurt by, or rather, by who’s worth the potential emotional pain.

It sounds cynical and pessimistic, but that’s what 21 years of dealing with people has done to me.

Does it interfere with my functionality?

No.

I have no problem getting along with people, especially not at a superficial level. I have no problem acting on the basis of what is most convenient for me, and I certainly have no problem establishing acquaintances.

So yeah, I have ‘attachment issues’, no they don’t affect the way I socialize or get along with people. I’m a perfectly agreeable person regardless. I simply don’t open up, heart on my sleeve to anyone who so much as says ‘Hello’ to me, yet have no problem opening up, once I choose to, and see the person’s worth it.

I can take a lot of teasing. I mean a whole fucking lot, but when I’ve reached my limit, and people don’t cut it the fuck out, I end up lashing out.

I have no idea what the fuck happened today in class, but starting off the week lashing out in class and having a crying fit afterwards, isn’t my idea of a.) a good week, and b.) emotional stability.

It all began with an exercise that involved the use of the word ‘dream’. I had a personal objection to the word, because in the context of the document, I couldn’t take it seriously. I referred to ‘objective’ or ‘project’, but they insisted on dream.

So I tried to clarify my objections, I admit, maybe a bit too intensely, because of the amount of weight that word carried for me.

I do admit I made everyone dwell on it for more than It deserved considering it was an objection based on a psychological issue; a matter or relativity and subjectivity as to the definition of the word.

So there was, admittedly, a bit of tension, so I simply let everyone carry on, while I just listened, trying to figure out why certain words make me tick so terribly.

We do the dynamic, whatever, things end, it’s the end of class, the person in charge of grading in my team grades people, but all throughout the fucking class, little comments were being made about how we spent too much time discussing something that essentially didn’t mean anything, and that that was why the dynamic failed and just all this crap.

So many people started to bitch about that quasi-jokingly. At first I laughed with them in agreement. It had been silly, and personal, and subjective.

But when suddenly everything was being dumped on me, after having been more than pleasant in taking the teasing, I ended up lashing the fuck out.

Which turned into a complete spectacle, because I couldn’t just suck it up and leave. The teacher had to make a fucking example of me, in terms of fucking therapy, making me ‘deal’ with things right there.

I am sorry, but the only man allowed to psychoanalyze me to my face like that is my therapist. And I pay him 80 bucks for the fucking privilege. So of course, after poking at my attachment issues, and trying to dialogue some sort of.. I have no idea what the fuck it was— some fix, or something? I lashed out even more.

So I was shaking, hands trembling, eyes watering, voice cracking.

Then ensued 30 minutes of everyone speaking their minds at me, making me feel like more of a fucking idiot, and as I tried not to burst out crying, I tried to justify and explain, but no one was getting what I was trying to say.

It was the most bizarre thing in this world. No one seemed to understand what I was saying. It made perfect sense in my head, I was sure my word choice was fine, but people kept saying they simply did not understand what it was I was trying to say.

So I would try to summarize, establish context, but apparently I wasn’t making myself clear, so when the teacher tried to end with ‘So what have you learned from this?”, I just said something bitchy, quiting Dorian Gray, and got the fuck out, though not before people tried to ‘soften’ things by ‘thanking me’ for granting them such a ‘rich’ and ‘valuable’ experience.

For the love of Hell. That’s how you know you’re dealing with fucking psychologists— assuming that a pat on the back and a feigned acknowledgement of the qualitative value in anything you might say somehow validates the person.

I’ve been crying far too much these past 3 weeks. I don’t know f it’s because I’m being emotional, or too sensitive, or I’ve just reached my limit.

Either way, it’s unlike me.

4 crying fits in the past month and a half.

Still haven’t been able to get an appointment with the doctor. My mother is insisting and insisting I need to go, because she thinks there’s something wrong with me. Which of course, makes me rebel and not want to go just to prove a point, but I really think I’m going to go against my counter dependence on this one, and do it not because I’m obeying, but because I really do feel there’s something strange.

Fuck. And I used to be so stable.

I’m not looking forward for next class, Monday. Talk about humiliating circumnstances.

And also, curious thing. None of the voices were active at the time. I haven’t heard from them in a while. It’s strange.

What the fuck is this?

Had a 3hr Skype date with D. Very unexpected, seeing as how I’m killing my brain with neuropsych for the upcoming tests, and it’s not something I could afford time-wise.

Classes like these kill me, because they’re not my strongpoint, and so I have to go out of my way to do good in them. That means flashcards, other methods of memorization, aside from bashing my head with the book. This is why I have no life.

Been thinking of little red flags I’ve been catching glimpses of lately. Little things holding me back in specific areas of life, mainly in terms of attachments.

Been working on my ‘User Manual’, and my talk with D helped point some things out to me about my person. I love how there’s a no-bullshit policy with us, and just how we give each other space yet remain close at the same time.

He might not approve of half the things I do, and in his own words, might take ‘the attitude of a parent who doesn’t know what to do with the child’, but he never crosses boundaries.

He actually said he appreciated how ‘unclingy’ I was. That came as a shock, considering I do consider myself a clingy person. Maybe it’s one of those things I make such a point to project otherwise, that I don’t notice it’s all they see.

Quite honestly, the guy has seen me through every single thing, so it’s not like I limit myself with him. From my first break-up crisis, to the wasted fucking mess that one time we were playing cards and I had way too much to drink.

I also have the blessing of being my full uncensored self with him, the way I am with K, and I love the dynamic I have with both of them, even if it’s psychologically abusive (just kidding).

A plan to go up to NY to visit him came up.

This time for real (this has been going on for 2 years…)

All I have to pay is airfare, and presto.

I’ll add it to my list of travel opportunities.

I’m just being resentful of my current situation, because I’ve grown tired of being forced to wear the leash and muzzle.

The way I grow attached to someone is through constant contact and regular communication. That lays down the foundation, making things very clingy and intense in the beginning, even if I make a point of not succumbing to it.

After some time passes, and the foundation becomes firm, and my place in that person’s life is secured, a bunch of time can pass without any communication and nothing feels different. There needs to be a bit of maintenance done every few months, sometimes half a year, but it’s no big thing. Just a matter of catching up. The foundation is there, solid— no problem. It’s only in the beginning when it’s fickle, and it follows through with NRE symptoms.

I’m currently at a point where I would like to grow attached to someone (no one specific, just ‘some body’), but find it too much of a hassle to do so, and don’t feel I’m at a place where I could go through all the motions and open up.

A recent friend took me by surprise in that regard.

Maybe that’s the only way it can happen— being taken by surprise.

I’ve said it before; the easiest way to my heart is around it, not straight through it.

If things are right up in my face, I’ll be too skeptical to do anything, thinking in terms of ‘well, will this person be worth the potential hurt, or not?’.

Thing is, I can’t really make a decision, when I haven’t even given them a chance.

It’s all done out of instinct.

You get your hand burned on the stove enough times, it becomes instinct to be wary of it.

No one wants to get hurt, but if you’re going to close yourself off just because of the possibility, then what’s the point.

I’ve deliberately jumped into things, knowing full well they would bite me in the ass in the end— made the conscious choice of opening the door to the whirlwind and let myself be consumed by it.

The potential is there.

The phobia is there as well.

It’s simply of getting to the root of the phobia, accepting it, and moving on.

One of the best bits of the night:

D: Porn is where I draw the line. If I see you in porn, I will hunt you down and kill you.

Me: ....I'll just dye my hair or something. Wear a wig so you won't recognize me.

D: No, no, wear one of those glasses with the mustaches.

Me: ...... I have to draw that now D:

Like Gilda Besse would say, the wanderlust has got me.

I’ve been flirting with the idea of what I’m doing this summer. I don’t think I want to take any classes. I’ll go insane if I take any more classes, without any sort of break to look forward to. Last year, I had my 2 week vacation with Saffie to look forward to (still have no clue how that happened), this year, I’ve got nothing. Money’s been way too tight to go anywhere, and if I’m not paying for it, no one is, so no vacations this summer.

Got fed up with simply flirting with the idea, and plotting out how I’m going to carry things out (the big move, transportation, work) and decided to just take the first step.

Called my mother and went ‘Been looking at apartments for the summer— not taking any courses, going to work instead, to pay for an exchange program.”

I was surprised when she didn’t object.

I’m always surprised when I’m faced with a lack of opposition.

I’ve learned that with my parents, asking for permission gets me the possibility of rejection, or a ‘Your life, your choices” answer. This is… relatively recent. Ever since Cali, I think. It’s kind of a mindfuck, considering the household I belong to now takes the ‘By the way, this is what I’m doing. Just letting you know.’ approach as a direct affront to their authority.

So after a year of having to adjust to having to ask permission for every little thing, and when finding myself unable to, deliberately doing things under the table, it’s still a mindfuck switching back and forth.

I’ve honestly reached my limit. Much as I love my relatives, I just can’t keep literally biting into my tongue until it bleeds over every little thing. I’m sick of having to censor everything I say in terms of word choice and subject matter, and keep everything in constant check. It makes me too aggressive and defensive when I have to keep my guard up all the freaking time.

I’d have no problem if I had an outlet. That friend I regularly see, and don’t have to filter myself with, but I don’t. And so it’s that feeling again of not belonging anywhere. Of feeling like an outsider basically.

Closest thing is my ramblings to K, since we live so damn far apart. Seriously, dude. I’m moving into your closet or something, even if it’s snowing and it’s all ew. Better than this hellish heat!

And I feel it more keenly with every day that passes, and every little argument, and that very specific look they give me when I say something they disagree with (they don’t believe that two arguments can be equally valid, even if they disagree with the other. It’s all black and white). It’s this look that triggers extreme shame and humiliation, making me go ‘What the hell? Where the fuck did that come from?’. I actually want to cry.

I’ve already done the whole ‘reject the world before it rejects you’ thing, but it’s the same kind of visceral reaction I get when people push my triggers. It strikes straight to the core, triggering watery eyes, and troubled breathing, and just deep humiliation and shame and despair over being misunderstood.

I’m intellectually aware that none of what they say applies, and there’s no small part in me that is ashamed of anything. If anything, I’m unapologetic about who I am, but those very base reactions always throw me off guard.

It’s basically just that painful feeling of I don’t belong here.

Given this past week, I probably have more than enough to make the 80 bucks worth the session. I’m usually my own therapist, but I can’t place my finger on this one.

I came across a book on emotional intelligence today, so I got it. I’m always curious to read about that sort of thing. So far, it’s very interesting.

It said that we can’t actually rationalize our way out of an emotion. Which I objected to for a few pages, until it clarified that we don’t use logic alone. It’s logic, coupled by a stronger emotion, what works to change things, not eradicate them.

It took me a bit to apply it to myself, but it’s true. I’ll rationalize myself out of something using logic, but it’s always rage or anger or pride, what’s fueling things. Haven’t gotten to the part where it says whether what I do is healthy or not.

Either way, it works for me.

I’ll keep reading to see where it goes.

Two quick realizations today:

1. If I’m going to get upset every time a triggering person, continually pushes that Little Red Button, whether they do it purposefully, or with my best intentions in mind, essentially, the only person affected by it, is me.

All they get, is the chewing out that lasts five seconds. I’m the one dealing with the emotional backlash for the next 48 hours. So I’m just going to have to detach, and treat those remarks, the way I would if they came from someone I didn’t care of.

The only reason they affect me, is because they come from someone close to me. I know what they say isn’t accurate, am keenly aware and confident in how wrong those statements are, but it’s the fact that they belittle my efforts, judging my whole person by those 5 seconds of necessary weakness, compared to a lifetime of making a point to of going against those notions, what pisses the ever living fuck out of me.

It’s essentially helplessness, being so conscious of the fact that I can’t have control over the situation, and I’m being scrutinized for it.

I’m over the overall humiliation of the thing. I no longer have a problem with that, understanding the necessity in it, and thus, willingly choosing to go through it, rather than repress it.

No, what pisses the fuck out of me, is that, yeah, I have no control, yeah, I accept it, yeah, I have no problem with it, I’m dealing with it… then I’m faced with negative comments from the people closest to me, because apparently I’m supposed to be some kind of robot, constantly calibrating and regulating my emotions and keeping rational every minute of every hour of every day.

So then I get this reaction of—‘No, fuck you, I need this. It’s healthy. I don’t care about the negative connotations a moment of weakness and irrationality might have, contrary to popular belief, last time I checked I was still human, and I’m still driven by that 25/75 ratio of rationality vs. irrationality in the human brain.

It doesn’t change the fact that I’m fucking stable 95% of the time. At least I’m conscious of what I need to regain clarity, and don’t go around fucking projecting and lashing out, not knowing what’s going on. So fuck you, and your social prejudices, and erroneous ways of seeing things.’

So yes. Gonna work on that.

2. The second thing has to do with just something I’ve been noticing in certain people. There’s this quote about how life is what happens when you’re so busy making plans.

I’m the planning type. I get stuck in making plans, and not carrying them out, as if the act of planning, is as good as having done it. You’ve gone through the psychological process, fantasized, satisfied the basic craving. Still, it’s seldom ever carried into action.

I’ve actually been very good about acting, instead of thinking in regards to a lot of things, so now I’m just taking it to a different level, or applying it to different areas in life.

So this next semester, when the leash is finally lengthened, I’ll kick that baby into overdrive. While we’re still active, let’s misbehave!

On the more immediate to-do list
- Look for an apartment for the summer
- Plot out the logistics of the thing
- Look for a job
- Decide whether I’ll be taking any summer classes, or if I’ll focus on saving up some cash.

How to Deal with an Unhappy Claw

For the sake of hyperbole, I spend 354 days of the year in control. What that means, is that I keep my emotions in constant check. I deal with episodes in a rational manner, applying restraint, and rarely succumbing to them, unless I see it more practical just to get them out of the way, in which case I do, still with a tight grasp on how much I let myself go.

The example I use is always that of a container filling up. Every little thing adds up like a like a little droplet of water until the container is full, and the last tiny little drop, regardless of how completely pointless and inconsequential it is, will trigger an emotional crisis that can only be dealt with by being acknowledged and addressed.

During this type of crisis, my speech remains rational and coherent, despite everything unraveling into freaking chaos. The only irrational thing, are my emotions.

The combination of the two results in my having a perfectly rational and coherent conversation, vocalizing subtext, clarifying, summarizing, and concretizing abstract concepts for the sake of better understanding, all while having a crying fit of hysterics.

The crying part is what scares people, and triggers in them the human reaction of panic.

This ‘Oh fuck, she’s crying… what the hell am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to react?’

The great part, is that you don’t have to do anything!

I am so freaking aware of my wants and needs, that I will guide you through the process before the conversation even begins.

I will approach you in a relatively calm manner, a kink or two in my voice, implying a bit of urgency and importance in the matter, but all in all, it’s very calm.

I will address you, ask you if you can spare a moment or two just to vent, and if you say it’s ok, I’ll be very clear about what I need.

All I need, is you to listen.

Seriously. That’s it.

Just listen to me rant and rail, throw my fit of hysterics, and not say anything.

You don’t have to worry about empathizing, about displays of physical affection, about having the right thing to say.

All you have to do is listen.

Once I’m done having my ‘it’s the end of the world’ crisis, where I ramble off about the little things, we will get into discussing subtext.

My freak out wasn’t about the fact that my computer died and I couldn’t turn in a homework worth 30% of my grade.

That is very important. That meaningless little thing, was simply the trigger. It’s essentially irrelevant. What matters is what’s behind that trigger. That is, the underlying cause for the crisis.

Want to know another awesome thing? You don’t even have to bother thinking about it.

I already know the underlying cause! I just needed to vent.

And so once we’re done analyzing subtext and underlying causes, all I need you to do, is remind me of the bigger picture.

Intellectually, I know it’s not the end of the world. I know my crisis will end in 2 minutes. I know I’ve been through this a thousand times, and that it’ll go away. Intellectually, I know it’s stupid.

That doesn’t mean that the fact that I feel the world is crumbling over my shoulders is any less valid. It doesn’t mean the feeling is any less real, and it doesn’t mean that its effects on my behavior are any less real.

Just hang on, we’re almost done.

Even though I know all these things, I can’t see them.

And so, I need verbal reassurance:

- Keep in mind it’s only 30% of the grade. Worst that could happen is you have to re-do the class, and that doesn’t matter either.
- It’s just one assignment. You’ll do a better job in other ones.
-Just 3 more years before you finish with the career, then freedom!
-This doesn’t reflect the effort you put into things, you’re just not having a good day.
-No point in dwelling over it, if there’s nothing that can be done, let’s just watch a movie.

Once I start grasping the bigger picture, things will cease to be blown out of proportion. Things will begin to make sense. And once I’ve reached that point, I’ll be fine.

The whole process, if done properly, takes less than 20 minutes, depending on the bitching time.

Those breakdowns are escape valves.

Some people go to the gym, some people do whatever, I need to have a breakdown to cleanse with everything that has been piling up for the last few months.

This next section is extremely important—

Things NOT to say, while Claw’s having a breakdown

-Never tell me to calm down/relax/chill/get a hold of it.

-Never tell me I need to be ‘more mature’ or ‘in control’ or ‘be more rational’. I do that 364 days of the fucking year. I’m allowed 1 day of vulnerability.

- For the love of god, don’t ever tell me I’m ‘weak’ or not to ‘let it beat me’, or in any way suggest that choosing to go through a crisis is in any way negative, or not appropriate, or invalid, and suggest I just ‘suck it up’.

-Never tell me ‘we’ll talk when you’re more calm’. The point is to cleanse through crying. If I talk to you once I’m calm, there’s nothing to talk about. I’m calm. I’ve already dealt with it.

Doing any of those things is like pushing a little red button that will turn my lashing out at the general area around you, to lashing out directly at your person. And you don’t want that. I’ll feel worse, and you’ll get chewed out, and we’ll both be unhappy.

So just to recap, the way you deal with an unhappy Claw is:

1. 1. Listen
2. 2. Remind me of the bigger picture
3. 3. Don’t push the red button.

I don’t need you to fix me or tell me what to do, or give me advice.

If I do, I will ask you for it.

Another short blurb about jealousy— Right now I have no romantic attachments, but find that the same concepts used in poly, apply to platonic friendships.

And at least when it concerns to me, close platonic friendships and romantic attachments are something my brain interprets pretty much the same way in terms of closeness. It’s the same level of emotional attachment.

Platonic friendships just jump all the way to that more permanent attachment, skipping over the fuzziness and the butterflies in the stomach and all that not so very fun stuff and those pair-bonding yearnings.

I can be in love with someone and not be sexually attracted to them (my last girlfriend). I can be sexually attracted to someone, love them as much as my primary, and not be in love with them (close friends I sleep with).

The concept of having an anchor is key. Support without exclusivity. Basically, “…someone who [is] there for me emotionally and who [understands] me on most levels, and whom I [understand] and [support] as well. The nature of the relationship is less important than that one aspect: needing to be understood.”

That’s pretty much my relationship with K.

It hit me just today how ridiculously functional my relationship with her is. I’ve known her all my life, and she’s somehow still a part of it, even when all other attachments unravel into chaos, and even if we’re countries and day-today-lives away.

Our jealousy is very minimal, driven instead by a sense of compersion. That is to say, “…a state of empathetic happiness and joy experienced when an individual’s current or former romantic partner experiences happiness of joy through an outside source, including but not limited to, another romantic interest.”

I think it has to do with personality type and the strength of the foundation our friendship has.

Personality type, because we’re both very independent, making codependency not an issue.

We’re partners in crime, we’re anchors, we’re primaries. We’ll check in with each other from time to time, but there’s no need to smother, because we’ve known each other for so long.

Whenever there’s someone new in her life, I don’t really feel threatened. I’m sure of my place, and the uniqueness in our interactions. It’s not a matter of how ‘special’ the interaction is (though the childish initial feeling is always that), but rather a certainty that we fulfill a very specific role that no one can very well threaten and take over.

Basically, we fulfill each other’s emotional needs.

Yes, people change and so do their needs, but we’re so generally loose about it, that it doesn’t really feel like a threat.

Of course, once she gets a boyfriend, I’ll grow jealous, and he’ll have to go through the test of fire, the same way any guy I’m involved with has to get her seal of approval, but compersion is the basis of our friendship. We want the other to grow and explore.

And so, a good way to counter jealousy, is to really work on the foundation from the beginning. If the foundation is strong enough, jealousy is kept at a minimum. Once you have compersion going on, rather than jealousy fueled by insecurities over abandonment issues, you know you’re in a pretty damn good place to be.