Yohannon (yohannon) wrote,

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Yohannon, Whose Buttocks Are NOT Square...

My last post seems to have inspired far more comment then I thought it would. I'm suspecting it's the sorta vague, rambling way I wrote it that induces commentary... so many dangling thoughts, incomplete contemplations, and just plain non-sequiturs.

(Pauses to listen to the squeal of a far off accident as the idiots refuse to slow down in the rain)

Yeah, sort of like that.

Roni and I have been talking a lot. Michele chatted me up in AIM. I've been talking on the phone with a few people, online for others. I seem to be going through another of my interminable crises of self, where all I can do is question everything I do and everything I am. Forcing that template of morality and normalcy down upon myself long after it's readily apparent that all I'm succeeding in doing is distorting myself into unnatural positions reminiscent of some sort of spiritual Kamasutra.

Much like the book of physical pleasure of the same name, while some of those positions are fun to try in a "let's play naked twister covered in olive oil!" kind of way, trying to place oneself in one for an extended period can only be another form of self flagellation, only not as enjoyable.

The commentary was amazing, and rather than hiding my response under the bushel of the LJ comment system, I think I'll respond out here in the open. Please forgive the edits -- I'm trying to capture key phrases here, and you know how wily those beasties be.

llhinkle made the point that I reminded her of "A kinky SpongeBob Squarepants. Really sweet and loving and someone shape-able, needy for love and wanting everyone to love him and like him and be his friend."

Shapeable? Not really... I'm flexible in some ways, but incredibly rigid in ways that can surprise people. My malleability is dependent upon a variety of factors that even I lack understanding of. However, there is some truth to wanting people to like me -- clearly a leftover from a very lonely childhood, wherein I was branded the freak to avoid in my neighborhood.

(pauses to listen to the sirens, which seem to actually be heading to the aforementioned accident -- "How recklessly our life has been spent?")

I would like to think I have an above average (some would say "over") awareness of my motivations and the basis for my insecurities. Long before being diagnosed for the ADHD, I was on a constant quest to discover what made Yohannon who he was, why I was constantly having the same problems, the same difficulties.

(pauses to listen to what sounds like a far off bull horn being used... can't quite make out what's being said, but it has a certain officious sound to it. Is there a crowd forming around that accident?)

As a result, even as I have my knee-jerk reactions, I try to keep them in that perspective of my past. It can be damn near impossible, in the heat of some moments, to recall "oh yeah, that's why my buttons are being pushed!"

Which is almost an actual segue to penguin_goddess and stacycat69's excellent exchange on the infamous quote, time wounds all heels "time heals all wounds".

stacycat69 notes that it's very hard to accomplish that most insidious of breakup goals, the idea of remaining "friends" or otherwise connected, and speculates that time doesn't heal. penguin_goddess wonders if the best you can hope for is making the wound "tolerable".

I think that there's a small misunderstanding here: "Healing" is not the same as "exactly as it was before". Obviously, if that's how you define healing, you're more than likely going to be very pissed off and confused by the physical therapy you might have to go through, or the scarring from the wound itself. Even as I enjoy the rain, my right knee twinges at the memory of the blood poisoning that took hold a few months after a fall, reminding me of one of the darkest moments of my life.

There's no doubt my knee is HEALED... but it's hardly the same as it was before.

The same is true of that emotional damage. As I sort through my current motivations, I need to figure out what's as healed as it's going to be, and learn to work around it, and what requires some more "emotional therapy" to recover as much capability as I can.

And what if it isn't a "wound" per se? I'm reminded of Roni, after this past Sunday (when she was taking a trapeze class for her dancing skills) and Monday (when she got home from a hard rehearsal) -- she was sore from the workout, and needed a good massage, but she wasn't WOUNDED. In fact, if she keeps it up, she'll grow stronger and more flexible.

I'm hoping that's the case with the emotional disasters.

gracelandbound summed up a lot with:

"I fear selflessness because it makes me vulnerable to the possibility of being hurt. At the same time, to take the selfish route makes us the kind of person whom others don't *want* to be involved with. For me, it's a nearly impossible balance. The unfortunate outcome of this realization is that i am left questioning and doubting myself, right down to the fabric of who i am."

And here *I* am. Doing exactly that. Wondering if the key is to stop questioning, and learn to trust that, at my core, I'm a decent, loving person who will tend to at least TRY to do the right thing? To stop second guessing my decisions, or (perhaps more importantly) other people's?

That's a tough one. It's the idea of re-embracing the zen of living, of being one with one's actions. There was a time that seemed possible to me, but then I was influenced by the reactions of those around me -- that "wanting to be liked" thing. Yet I can no longer deny that I'm liked, or even loved. In the depths of my despair I actuallyn uttered the phrase "I'll never be loved" to Roni last night, and even as the words passed my lips I had to wonder at the lie. Whose words were those, really? Roni says it's because people told me I was defective as a child, that I'd never be good enough. I think I complained bitterly "But I'm *42*", not so much denying it as bemoaning the fact that, more then a quarter century later that damage still pains me.

kshandra's comment stands on it's own. Yes, I understood what you meant... we mourn relationships as much as we mourn the loss of a life that was dear to us.

Maybe my real problem is an inherent inability to handle grief well.

(pauses to listen to the wind rattle the windows for a few minutes)

Roni and I had a long talk last night. I had yet another "core dump" of everything that's been rolling through my head. The sense of frustration I feel over dcatt's pregnancy, the stress of incipient birth, what my sudden status of long distance fatherhood really means, and a whole slew of aimless pondering on my way of life.

That last is the wonder at when I'll have enough. llhinkle mentioned me spreading myself thinly, and yet... there's more to it than that. I think one of the reasons I really, REALLY hope that the new site takes off is that, in a way, I can integrate an aspect of my life that I appear to be stuck with into something that could actually make me money. My latest theory about it is that I sublimate all of my OCD tendencies into a constant search for beautiful people -- I might as well have a better excuse to be doing it. In this case, it becomes a model search, and is somehow less pathetic. At least in my eyes.

I want to thank everyone, online and off, who took the time to listen to me as I whine my way through this maze (no, that's not a typo!). I'm hoping that a few more days will find me in a much better frame of mind.
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