Friday, March 6, 2015

Here I go again...

Not sure I'm going to move any mountains blogging. Not real sure what I'm after in doing it. I like to write, to myself... journal like. Getting brave. Posting for the world to see (not that the world will see, but they COULD you know... dangerous!!!) is kind of a therapeutic jump for me. Self-therapy I should clarify. No one is asking me to do this. Just after some reflection I have decided maybe this would be a step for me. I wonder what I'll do with it. If I will keep it up. If I will learn something from it. Of course I will. I always learn something.

That is where this started. Something to be learned. Realizing I need to occupy myself. My mind. I'm bored. Bored with life. I don't have friends. I don't get conversations. I don't have good sex. I sleep, not even comfortably, not even well, and definitely not near enough, but somehow all of the time. I'm fucking bored. I'm seeing a guy. He's boring. I have a kid... and I love him across the universe, but I'm not JUST a mom. Am I? I have been. And, for me at least, being JUST one thing suuuucks. Even if it is something as awesome as being a mom to a super cool, really funny, really smart little dude. You are welcome world. Anyway. I'm bored in my relationship. Just the one remember- no friends. And I'm bored in my role. Just the one remember- JUST a mom.

So, I met a potential friend. All that happened was one night this guy, I'll call him Frankie, came over to see my guy because they are besties, and something clicked. Frankie has been over several times in the few years I've been seeing this same guy. But, I keep to myself. We've had a small chat here and there, but I'm unapproachable and fairly shy... and typically disinterested in most humans. This weird little night there must have been some silly dust in the air because Frankie and I had a conversation. We clicked, we were interested, we were engaged, we talked about... stuff... for like 4 or 5 hours. Until his eyes burned and he had to go get a few hours of sleep before going to work. I was scrolling through Facebook and got a friend request. Oh. My. I'm going to make a friend. Wrong. It didn't work out with us. I'm a hard lass to friend with. I am overly honest, pretty brutally so apparently. And, I don't take shit. So anyway, this Frankie joker just didn't make the cut. Or I didn't make his cut. Who really knows. It was short lived as I predicted, and I was left with some lessons. Win.

First of all, it has been a while since I've had some real conversations and interactions. I possibly gave the boy more credit than was due as far as being a deep thinker. I think on an obsessive level. If you don't know me, and really hardly anyone does, you really don't understand what I mean by obsessive. I take that shit to an all new level. And, I love every second of it. It's not like a creepy, uncomfortable obsessive state. It's like a computer at work, words and pictures and numbers whizzing by and I'm just sorting it. Cleaning up the mess. Working it all out. And somehow, for me... it's like making music. I drill shit into non-existence and I believe it is exhausting for people to deal with. I never let up. There is always a deep thought or a thousand brewing.

Second, he was on some play about teaching me to 'people' as we called it. I was game. You see, I have major social issues. I just don't fucking get it, if I'm honest. The bullshitting. Hellos and How are you's? when you really don't give a shit. I cannot be bothered. Seriously. What is the point? Anyway, I do realize that I don't know what the hell I'm doing in social situations and while I don't really care to socialize, I have a son and thought it might help me teach him these things if I understand why it's worth it. Frankie accidentally confirmed my beliefs that people are real shit and not something I aim to be. Sugar coating is just not something I care to learn, I don't see the benefit. I don't care to constantly tip toe around people trying to make them more comfortable. Last I checked this is my life. I'm the only certain in it. And, I'm certainly not going to sit around miserable trying to make other people happy. Most I won't know in a month... why the hell would I want to know people like that anyway. And oh yes... we are all in this together and must be aware of those around us. Tell me more about how lying and bullshitting accomplishes harmony... If I state my opinion or feeling and it hurts you so be it... at least there is opportunity for conversation and understanding. I think it shows more lack of your character to not be open to communication, than mine in saying exactly what is on my mind. I'm sorry you spend your life offended by everything all of the time. No, actually I'm not sorry at all. Grow the fuck up. Learn to accept your faults, because we all have many. Accept them and see them. Wear them because they are there. It's REALLY okay to not be perfect. I want people in my life that point out to me my flaws. I need to know when I'm being a dick, because 9 times out of 10 I really have no clue... and in pointing that out to me you may actually learn that (like me) most people don't mean to hurt your feelings most of the time. You are just sensitive as hell and no one really knows how to communicate. Being more honest and accepting of other people's flaws actually helps you with your own. Good stuff.

Losing the friendship I almost had left me feeling empty for a bit. Of course it sparked ton of reflection. And, writing. Loads of it. Usually I write in another alphabet so no one can read my journals. This time I was feeling brave and bought a little diary just to write about Frankie in. I had an idea at one point to fill it and give it to him. I abandoned that, mostly because writing cleared my give a shit about him. He is the type that wants to hear that he is special. That he has something other people do not. It's actually a recurring theme with humans, that desire to be above. Anyway, for some reason I wanted him to have that. In some ways he was very fucking special. He got to me. That had to mean something, right? I felt like he deserved to know all of the good (and bad) things I thought of him. All of the thoughts I had of him. How often do we get to really see what someone thinks of us? What an opportunity to get to know yourself. A new perspective, directly and honestly. But I  realized as I wrote to myself (him) he wouldn't learn anything from it. He wouldn't recognize the gold I was giving him. I was giving him too much credit at this point, thinking he'd want to know himself. Finally, I realized that someone who has dedicated his life to avoiding himself and most anything meaningful,  would not even recognize the opportunity for growth reading the effect he had on someone could bring.

So that's it. I wrote to him in a journal in regular letters. Only managed to fill about half of it before running out of shit to think about with him. I moved on. Writing to myself in regular English for the first time since I was a teenager. And, I thought... what if I blogged my journals? Not everything, I'm sure. That'd be excessive... and boring. I'm known for being so incredibly honest, yet no one knows me. I'm not open, I realized. If I am asked a question, I can answer (in a personal setting). But, I don't often just give myself up. So here is my exercise. My thoughts, balls to the wall. Words to the world. Exposing every drop of crazy. Just. Because. I Can.