Bending Spoons

I had a mini breakdown this morning on the phone with Jinks. I don't remember what he was saying, but it was something that required Cheerleader Sashi and I remember thinking I am too fucking tired for this, which I felt guilty about, but then it all came out in a pretty rambly, disjointed manner. Jinks, though, is a star, and probably the one person who seeks out Cheerleader Sashi who's equally willing to do the same.

It's something I've been realising more and more lately. The lesson of the year, I guess. I put a lot of myself out there for other people. There are a number of people (I'm hesitant to actually call them friends because the situation resembles unpaid therapy more than friendship) who seek me out every time the shit hits the fan, or they're having a bad day, or something's wonky in their relationship with whomever. For the most part, I don't mind. Everyone needs someone to listen to them, and, generally speaking, I'm pretty good at disregarding the emotional parts of a situation and breaking it down so it doesn't seem like an impossible feat. I like helping people. I don't, however, like feeling like the sole food supply for a pack of ravenous vampires, which is how it's been the past few months.

Someone I considered one of my best friends just sort of dropped out of contact at the beginning of the year. I'd get the occasional message here and there, or a like on a status update, but no real attempt to interact with me. Every so often I'd make an overture, and might be rewarded with a few minutes of IMing, but more and more it seemed like if we were going to talk, I had to make the effort. Every time. I know life gets in the way a lot, especially when you're dealing with time differences and different schedules and things like that, but after awhile I just thought why bother?

Why should I be the one always seeking all these people out?

I'm there when they're sobbing at 3 AM. I stay up all night listening to whatever problem they're having and regularly screw up my own sleep schedule (or just go without) for the sake of being a good, supportive friend. Pretty often I'll drop whatever I'm doing (within reason) to make time for them if they need me to. I come up with random and thoughtful gestures when I think they might need cheering up. How many of them do the same thing for me? How many of them call me up just to see how I'm doing, or because we haven't talked in awhile? How many even ask how I'm doing, or what I'm doing?

None. I am the person who pastes on Band-Aids, wipes away tears and then sends them on their way again. I'm their free therapy session.

I think this all really hit home on my birthday a few weeks ago. Now, I'm not one of those people who expects some big thing made out of his birthday. In fact, most years, I'd be happy if the entire day could pass by completely without notice. My birthday, traditionally, attracts disaster. Literally. A few years ago, Hurricane Hanna hit land where I was living at the time on my birthday. So I like to ignore it. A few very persistent people never let me do that, so I suffer through it. Anyway. This year, every single one of my (local) friends - at least one of whom I have definitely gone above and beyond in terms of friend duty - totally ignored it. Not a text. Not an email. Not a single acknowledgement.

I guess the real question is: what is it that compels me to over-extend myself for people who, pretty much, are content to take and not give back a single bit? I honestly don't have an answer to that, because the fact is, I don't have unlimited resources. Spoon Theory sums it up pretty well, except I very rarely take the time to budget my spoons, or even count to see how many I have. I give them out to anyone who asks for one. Additionally, I take a lot on, and I'm pretty much always under some sort of pressure - whether it's related to school, family, work, etc. Well-meaning people keep trying to add more on - I know they're just trying to be helpful but it really is the exact opposite - with mentioning workshops, seminars, classes, competitions and various other things I could add to the pile and I really get tired of saying I can't. I can't. I can't.

Neko said he deals with that by ignoring his obligations and doing something he enjoys just to stay sane. Which is a good solution, except I'm at the point where even the things I enjoy feel like obligations, so I ignore everything and disappear from view for a week or so until the build up of all my neglected responsibilities forces me out in the world to scramble to put it back together again.

Or someone calls and really needs a friend to pump up their ego.

I know a few people have commented on my perseverance and tenacity, admired how I just keep going no matter what. I think a few others interpret that trait as a form of indestructibility - because you don't see what a mess I am that must mean I have everything under control. I would like to pass it off by saying I'm just a very private person, but I think the truth is a little more pathological. I genuinely believe that someone else's - anyone else's - problems, wants and needs have more weight and importance than my own. I don't want to bother them with my issues. Whether it's something trivial like being nervous about yet another doctor's appointment (why I still get nervous about them, who knows) or something bigger like when my father died or my cat was almost killed by a dog (yes, I did just put those two things on the same level), I feel like mentioning it to anyone is tantamount to attention-seeking. But there shouldn't be anything wrong with that. If something goes wrong in your life, you should be able to tell your friends about it and have someone at least try to make you feel better. Or at least make you feel not alone. It's similar to how I feel about letting anyone know about the panic attacks or OCD. I don't view those as valid reasons for the behaviours they cause - no, I know they're valid reasons; I don't think other people do. I worry that people will think I'm using them as an excuse to do A, B or C.

I wouldn't mind actually being as indestructible as everyone thinks I am, though. Most of that resiliency is just because I don't know what to do besides keep going. My attention span is too short to curl up in a ball and give up.

Maybe that's where it all comes from in the end. I don't feel like I can talk about the issues I'm having because very frequently they're caused by one of a set of mood disorders and the general response to that is "get over it". The reaction isn't much more sympathetic from the medical community, either. They either don't listen to a word I say, or, unable to find some dark traumatic cause to this things, throw their hands up and proclaim me cured. And maybe that's why I drop spoons until I've run out and then start writing IOUs for them. Sometimes the hardest thing to find is someone who will hear what you have to say, even if you aren't sure how to say it.

You can't stand on the sidelines forever, kid.

Fuck Chick-fil-a.
Fuck Oreo.
Fuck Christian gay straight liberal conservative male female whatever.

Look me in the eye and tell me I'm not a person.

Tell me I don't deserve respect.
Tell me I don't deserve love.
Tell me I'm not good enough.
Tell me my voice doesn't matter.

Do it.
And then fuck off.

Because what I choose to do with my life has nothing to do with you.

---

I am so... disgusted with humanity right now. I'm sick of the proliferation of blithely stated hatred - the celebration of that hatred, like oppressing another group of people is someone's idea of a good time. I'm sick of my friends and family being treated like what they're asking for - what we're asking for - is completely unreasonable. I'm sick of feeling like I want to go find a fabulously queer hole to crawl into and never leave because they're the only ones who can really be trusted. I'm sick of religion being used as a shield that's meant to conceal a multitude of sins - oh yes, that's right, all you Bible-wielders, because there is nothing even remotely Christian about the things coming out of your mouths these days - when religion shouldn't even be dragged into it.

I'm sick of everyone forgetting that beneath all the names, slander, propaganda are real people who actually aren't all that different when it comes right down to it.

Mostly, though, I'm really sick of being shown exactly how many people I have respect, love and admiration for evidently have none of those things for me.

---

"I try my best to ascribe to the 'live and let live' philosophy when it comes to the increasingly prickly arena of religion, politics, lifestyles, etc., but there are moments while watching people show their support for various opinions by happily clicking 'like' where I wonder if, that in the span of that mouse click, the friends, children, nieces, nephews, and cousins personally affected in their daily lives by that opinion cross their minds, or that by supporting that opinion they are effectively saying those friends, children, nieces, nephews and cousins aren't entitled to certain rights - in fact, deserve to be treated as less than. It's not about abstract concepts or philosophies. It's about a real, living, breathing, thinking, feeling human being that you go on vacations with, celebrate with, grieve with, love and are loved by. Maybe more people should think about that rather than competing for who gets to be the most right." 


"Those same ignorant bigots can stand up and say anything they want about my life... but they do not have a right to make me change the way I live my life to suit them. If the worse thing someone can say about me is that I LOVE someone... well then... I'm doing alright. [...] It comes down to most people never having had to worry about hiding who they are from others. Never having to worry about whether or not they or their significant other will be allowed in a hospital room should something happen to them. Never having to worry about someone trying to deny you the right to see your children when they are hurt. Never having to worry about society suddenly deciding they have the right to rip your family apart. Never having to worry about simply being denied that you exist, that you even have the right to exist. It's a good thing that many people don't know what it's like to worry about being killed, beaten, or raped simply because you were seen holding hands with your loved one. But it's deplorable that ANYONE has to feel this way. These things do happen, they are real, and they are a disgusting part of humanity. It needs to be eradicated which can only happen if people are taught to respect diversity. "The gays" are not out hunting down bigots and vandalizing their homes, screaming hate speech at their children, trying to take their children away from them, killing them or raping them for being who they are. There's nothing about this that I can smile and do nothing about. If anything people need to speak up more. Get louder. Because this is not something I want my kids to grow up and have as part of their world."


"In the case of (god I'm so sick of that fucking company now), they are specifically attacking the LGTB community, and I see everyone wondering, do they have the right? They should have the right to hate us, and voice that opinion all they want to, but no one, I mean no one, should try and mandate who I sleep with, fuck, kiss, and fall in love with, I mean no one. And that's what that company was using their money for, to actually fund organisations that take away our rights. So in the case of LGBT community, are you telling me that us homos, lesbos, bisexuals, and transpeople don't have the right to stand up and protest this? Well, that's is just stupid. Any rights, civil liberties, and laws that give us rights should always be defended and fought for."


"Do you think that "we", as a society, will ever learn that disallowing all people the same rights, regardless of skin color, sexual orientation, gender, what-have-you, will eventually lead to an uprising by those being repressed/oppressed? I mean, is it cliche to say that this is the same thing women went through, that blacks went through? I'm not saying that it's not good to fight. It does make you stronger; it does make you more appreciative of the victories you earn (even though within a generation or two, all of the battles, frustrations, hurt, etc. are completely forgotten by those who enjoy the fruits of your pain and endurance). BUT... If you ask the same people who fight so hard to (for instance) "uphold the traditional definition of marriage" if they believe that black people should still be enslaved, they would be shocked that you could even suggest such a thing. Well, why not?"


"Stop being afraid of things you do not know personally. Stop being afraid of 'them', whomever 'they' are. They are you. Human with a need for love and support and family, whatever that means to each individual. I'm tired of humanity continuing to act like an amoeba scared to death of its own shadow because its 'different' or they don't understand it. Evolve. Think for yourself. Understand what base instincts are and think beyond them. It's really that simple."


"I mean, no one chooses to be gay, straight, bi, or trans. I can't imagine any one of us just woke up one day and said, "oh, I think my life would be easier if I just changed my gender," or "I think my world would be greatly enhanced if I were gay". No!! We already went through that argument back in the 80's and 90's. No, it's not a choice, and it makes your life more difficult, especially because rights are taken away. [...] Our forefathers wanted us to have the freedom to express ourselves individually, and then these fundamentalists are all like "well, you can, just don't do it so loudly", and then they turn around and they are ten times as loud as anyone else. Well, I'm sorry I'm going to scream back "fuck you" with a giant middle finger because I can and I will defend myself and my civil liberties and rights. Right now there are still transgenders being murdered and gays that are being denied any access to healthcare, [...] and believe me there many more things I could list. [...] There are even rural parts of the U.S. where you can kill someone for being gay and probably get away with it. Usually, as well, when you start saying things that people find hard to hear, they chalk it up to [your] anger and not to their own fear."


"You spend your whole life getting kicked in the face and taking it with a smile. Sometimes it's just one kick too many, and you get really fucking tired of turning the other cheek, especially when it doesn't matter how tolerant you are. You're always going to be the one who can't talk about certain things because it's "upsetting", or can't go to a family function with your partner, or have to bite your tongue when a relative cracks a joke about hunting season on liberals because you might hurt his feelings, or another relative cuts you out of her life completely just because you point out that religion and government are supposed to stay separate, or the police won't protect you because you're just the butt of their joke, or you don't get hired for a job you're more than qualified for because who you date makes the employer uncomfortable, or you end up pretending to be this watered-down, superficial copy of yourself because other people apparently find it too much of a strain to do what you do every damn day for a few hours every couple of months and be as tolerant of you as you are of them. So... Yeah. Sometimes, you stop and look at the real double-standard and think: why the hell do I bother? They don't."

The Ocean

There is nothing in this world but hope:
a threadbare life vest ping-ponged between us.
Hold your breath and hold my hand –
                       [just another small wave crashing through, dear]
– I can breathe well enough for two.

                                       Today I listened to every song you ever gave me,
                                       and tried to conjure nights spent prowling
                                       for whatever came our way
                                       aching lungs from all the smoke
                                       all the talk
                                       all the things we never have to say
                                       (but sometimes do anyway).

What if we can never be free? you ask,
the salt on our lips. fish nibbling our toes.
What if this is all there ever is?

                                        Twenty years ago a man I never met
                                        pressed my soul between the pages of a book
                                        and twenty years later I drank his voice
                                        with cinnamon tea until it became my own.
                                        I would read to you the language
                                        he carved into my bones:
                                        because I love the taste of his words
                                        because he writes between the lines
                                        like you.

We can float here – you and I –
and if the ocean swallows us whole –
well, we’ll still be whole, won’t we?
And the ocean will still be changed.

There's always that one that gets under your skin...

House-sitting for my parents means knocking around a too-big house with just myself, some cats and a dog for company, with the added curious discovery of how ill at ease and oddly reassured a born-and-raised country boy can be plopped back in the middle of nowhere. 

No matter where I've lived, though, it's always the lights that keep me.

There's a man I know who has this way with words so they dig right through your soul. And maybe the real power is he knows when not to use them, so when he does, you can't escape the meaning. 

Every time he does it my typically unflappable self is quite thoroughly flapped and I spend at least a day or so rolling them over my tongue and shifting the weight on my shoulders to see how they feel. Every time I realise too late I didn't say the right thing back. I would worry about that more, except I know for the most part I don't have to, because he knows what the coded statements mean, but just once, I think, he deserves to hear what should be said and not just what my fear produces. 

I've developed this practice of keeping relationships just far enough away I can cut the tethers if the ship starts sinking and just close enough they never know.  Because I leave places (and consequently the people in those places) behind too much and there really are only so many times your heart can break before you start losing pieces. Because once upon a time I was far too trusting and fought with everything I had for all the wrong people. Because I suppose to a certain extent I'm just wired that way. The reasons don't really matter (this is going to be a recurring theme, children: knowing the reason doesn't necessarily fix the problem). The point is: I do. 

Except this one. The man with the words.  He is and probably always will be the most important person in my life. I can't cut him loose. I've tried. He's tried. We always swing right back into orbit, and there's something reassuring about that. The constancy of him as a feature in my life. But the missing... The missing sometimes can be too much. Because I can only listen to him hurt over choppy connections and try to describe the world I'm in with useless language and wonder if we'll ever see each other face to face again. 

The connections are interesting. People. I could say we have x things in common, and y, q and r traits  but that doesn't really explain what draws certain people together, or makes certain relationships survive hurricanes while others crumble at a light breeze. Out of everything in life, relationships are the things that tug me toward the idea of some sort of destiny. 

I know there's that argument that with hindsight you can add significance to even the most insignificant moment, and randomness probabilities and names for things I never remember but all my science-y friends like to throw at me. Half the time I see the world that way, too. The rest of the time, logic and reason just don't seem to cover all the bases. I still think there's a logic behind it all, but don't discount the possibility that it's a logic we haven't discovered, or won't discover, or just can't understand yet. 

All of this from the fact that a man as squeamish with emotions as I am managed the words 'I miss you,' and wrote a poem that punched me in chest, which left me very, very homesick for the closest thing to a home I've got.