Commitment.

I have commitment issues. I haven’t always had them; they developed to 100% fruition somewhere between my current relationship and the relationship prior to that. I haven’t yet put my finger on exactly why they developed (for the record, I don’t place the blame on anyone else) but sometimes, when the commitment issues rear their disfigured head I can’t help but try again to fully figure it out…usually to no avail. Although, today I may have hit upon a piece of the puzzle.

Today, in what began as a joking sort of funny conversation, an innocent remark was made that made my brain spin a little. It happened so fast that I didn’t really process it at all until I was on the way home on the bus (at a training this week and it’s just easier to avoid driving and spending a million dollars on parking downtown). It all started out during lunch while walking by the KCJ (King County Jail)…apparently it was their hour of ‘yard’ time; I learned this because I remarked about how it was possible that I could hear inmates whooping and yelling. Then I mentioned how glad I was that I had never done anything to land myself in jail. Then I took it further and mentioned how funny I thought it would be if my companion at the time ever had to actually bail me out of jail for something. Then he said that he hoped that if that was the case it would happen before we were married.

Wait. Just, a, minute…is what my brain did.

My mouth did better than my brain because I just asked why that would make a difference and the conversation went on from there.

To fast forward from there (through many poorly drawn stick figures and such for the training that we’re doing) I revisited the conversation on the bus. Specifically I mused about my silent emotional reaction to it. Then I started thinking about all the significant relationships that I’d had. Specifically for some reason I thought about how healthy or unhealthy each relationship was in relation to my level of commitment to it (really instead of commitment, at the time I was thinking about how much I felt I needed the relationship/person at the time I was relating to them). An interesting correlation took shape in my brain. It is best demonstrated in graph form:

I think this makes me look crazy…but let me explain if I may.

I took all of the relationships that I consider significant as far as longevity, closeness, etc. and gave them all two different number values (scores, if you will). One score represented the level of how healthy I felt the relationship was/is; 1 being incredibly unhealthy and 10 being significantly healthy. The other score represented the level of need I felt for that person/relationship; 1 being the most unhealthy level of need ever and 10 being a feeling of not “need”ing at all (as clarification, in the brain of Kelly “need” = “unhealthy”). If I really wanted to delve deep into the motivations of my relationships with people I could have labeled “perception of need” as “codependent” (on my part at least), but anyway…

As you can see it starts out representing a relationship where I felt I needed the person sort of a lot and therefore the relationship was fairly unhealthy (for details I won’t go into here). It improves some with the second relationship where the level of need felt was not high at all and the relationship was fairly healthy (in terms of how someone treated me, honesty, etc.). Something important I need to add here…though the relationship was fairly healthy my level of commitment to it was not very healthy and not very high (come to think of it I should have added that line to the graph too, but oh well). Then you can see that it dips a bit with the next one in terms of both needing the person more and the unhealthy nature of the relationship. Then the outlier appears in the data and his name is George. That isn’t something that needs to be detailed at this time. Suffice to say I was malfunctioning at the time and felt that I needed him in order to breathe and the relationship was terrible…but eventually I got over this.

The rest of the data steadily improves and eventually demonstrates how I feel about my current relationship. It’s very healthy in terms of trust, kindness, friendship, love and all that stuff. In fact I can honestly state that I have never been treated better by anyone else. But the commitment thing still causes my internal thoughts to go a little haywire. After making a crazy relationship graph I think I understand why.

As we’ve already discussed my brain equates need with unhealthy because when I think of need I think of codependent, which has clearly been an issue for me in the past. Intellectually I realize that the most important part is “wanting” someone (for a myriad of different reasons) but this is where I get screwed up.

I don’t trust my sense of “want” and I think that’s where the problem lies. Having been used to operating on a “need” basis and then getting to a point where I vehemently throw that out the window after a number of poor experiences (one in particular) I’m just not used to basing commitment on “wanting” to do it. I don’t trust myself.

And I remain unsure of how to get to the point where I fully do.

Down memory lane

I can drive from downtown Seattle to Everett via Aurora (aka hwy 99) and back and it literally is a trip down memory lane. All it takes is that stretch of “highway” (it is still called “highway” even though the city of Shoreline f-ed up their part of Aurora recently with it’s big britches). It’s fascinating to me, and the first time I noticed it was driving with my mom after her hair appt on the last holiday weekend up to Lake Stevens.

I noticed it again today on a trip to Shoreline for some errands, however I noticed it going southbound. The section between about 205th to approximately 85th is representative of high school and a short time after. As I’m driving that way I can think to myself (in no particular street numbered order): that’s the bar that Colin snuck Audrey and I into because he knew the bouncers although it isn’t called by the same name anymore…that’s where my mom began to find her freedom again and I was happy that she was doing so…that’s the Denny’s that we used to hang out in until wee hours of the morning drinking coffee and smoking and enjoying each other’s company because we were teenagers and wanted to feel like we were going out somewhere…that’s where my family and I spent a lot of time dancing and having fun hanging out together…that’s the restaurant that we went to after my high school graduation…that’s the drug motel that I went to after making the poor choice to accompany someone to pick up their strung out friend…that’s the restaurant that we went to for a birthday when my dad dressed up in his fruit o’ the loom grape costume (which at the time sort of embarrassed me because I, and Audrey who accompanied us, were teenagers at the time)…that’s the bar I went to for my 21st birthday after dinner at Red Robin (where I had my first legal drink as an adult with my dad and sisters) and had to be carried out by my ex and his sister because everyone in the bar knew my sister and bought me shots all night and I was dumb enough to drink them…that’s the auto shop that Audrey took her car to one day and it was a good day because I clearly remember singing along to songs in the car with her and having a smashing good time doing something mundane…that’s the place, and that’s the place, and so on.

For me, going anywhere north of 205th usually reminds me of not so good times. That’s the section that leads up to Everett. From 205th on I’m usually thinking things like: that’s the parking lot that I hid out in when trying to drive away and hide from a gruesome fight with G…there’s 112th which is the street that my apts used to be on which just happened to be the same street on the other side of Aurora that G decided to move to one of the times I tried to break up with him…there’s the car dealership parking lot where we had another fight that was horrible…there’s the motel he was staying at where I was stupid enough to be visiting him (foolishly thinking that if it wasn’t my place that we were at I could control whether I left or not when he freaked out a whole lot better than I could control him leaving my place if/when the same happened) where we had a fight a morning before going to work where I saw stars and thought I might pass out because he hit me so hard…there’s the bar that J and I went to the first year that I knew him and it was my birthday…there’s the restaurant J and I went to one random day and had a really nice time…there’s the street that I would take a right on from hwy 99 to get to where I was staying with J for a while…that’s the place, and that’s the place. To be quite honest, sometimes I would rather just not drive on that road at all.

Capitol Hill often reminds me fondly of high school as well even though Minnie’s is not on Broadway anymore (because often in high school we could also be found there; of course we were also there more often than not in our later teen and early twenty’s years as well)…unfortunately Capitol Hill/First Hill is also the birthplace of a more recent unpleasant memory. A memory that for some reason that I still can’t fathom was brought up by a friend in front of mixed company twice last night seemingly out of nowhere. It was seriously like being in the twilight zone and I had zero idea on how to handle it properly.

There’s one thing I do know…there are some things that I am really not handling all that well and I’m sure that most of it has to do with stuff that has been long lived in my life, all tied up in relationships and family and friends. There are tidy terms to sum up the actual behaviors (even though carrying out these behaviors is not all that tidy of an operation; anyone would agree that the feeling of drowning a bit is not very tidy)…ISOLATING is one of them, POOR CHOICES is another, RUMINATING is a creative one that I’m pretty fond of. I figure I might as well provide the words with capitol letters to grammatically reflect the power that they seem to have in real life.

 What it all boils down to is that one of the important TASKS on Monday morning will be to start seeing a counselor again.

Sometimes it’s necessary, and this is one of those times. Thankfully I’m one of those that needs to go through a period of MALFUNCTION and UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR before I wake up and realize what needs to happen (and of course, I write that with a sarcastic undertone to it).

W. T. F.

1. If someone had ever told me that one day a friend would say that I had been ‘too nice’ during an interaction with a male (more specifically an email or letter) I would have laughed so hard I might have peed my pants. But that’s exactly what I was told this weekend. Usually I tend to be a little too harsh especially if I’m writing something and have time to think about what to say.

In response to a lack of response from a friend regarding a not-so-recent-anymore incident I wrote an email. I finally decided to write the email after being surprised a couple of times that I thought of the situation (only to immediately become irritated that I was thinking of it). I didn’t intend to ‘be nice’ necessarily; nor did I set out to be inappropriately unkind. I just wanted to tell the truth about how I felt and I did so. Short, uneventful story, I’m sure.

However, there is also the small matter of my need to have things analyzed…even after they’ve been sent or given. I have an almost obsessive desire for second (and sometimes third) opinions, mostly to answer the question of whether I was fairly reasonable or not in the expression of my thoughts and/or feelings. Kait was kind enough to be the editor this time. After she read it she looked at me as if to say…really? When she said, “okay…that was way too nice” all I could do was stare in confused disbelief. Well I’ll be. For once, I was “too nice”. For the record, I still haven’t put a judgment on it…I just said how I feel. The main reason I had someone else read it was to confirm that I wasn’t horribly irrational or unreasonable.

2. Jen’s birthday is tomorrow. Not that I ever got that jazzed about cinco de mayo as a holiday per se, but the thought occured to me the other day that if I ever wanted to be, it’s sort of ruined a bit. Not that I care about that part of it really…it’s that odd sort of thing that strikes you that you never thought might strike you.

3. After some recent contact from someone that used to be in my life I have done some pretty significant searching and pondering of myself. The other day I had a pretty good conversation about it with my best friend Kait. We talked for a while about fear, about relationships, and about sharing ourselves with other people. It’s hard to trust somebody, especially if you weren’t taught to be ready to trust someone. She said something to me, and if a sound was attached to it, the sound would be like a big huge gong resounding in my ears…(not exactly word for word) she said something to the effect of, yes we look at relationships in the filter of ourselves, but the important part of them is to realize that it’s about someone else’s life too, not just ours. We should protect ourselves, but we should also be cognizant of the fact that someone else’s issues, and fear are also a huge part of the equation. It’s hard to remember that when we’re in it. I have realized two things:

1. During the most significant intimate relationship in my life thus far I demonstrated the highest amount of fear that I possibly could have. There’s a few reasons for that.
2. The last time that I remember feeling as if I wasn’t completely alone, was during that relationship. As a sort of disclaimer, I routinely realize that I’m not alone…I have some absolutely wonderful friends and family. But when it comes to that feeling that you have a companion that’s on your side no matter what…it’s been a while since I felt that way. And this was a grave thing to realize. I’m not quite sure what to do with it to be quite honest. I regret that I felt the most fear in that relationship because as my Kait reminded me, the most important thing to remember in a relationship is that the little things don’t matter…at all…and in my most recent really long relationship I focused solely on the little things because I was too afraid to really put 100% into it and trust it. It’s a humbling thing to think about.

My P feels strongly about the following quote and I now realize why:

 I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. (Frank Herbert)

There are a lot of things that I need to get over.

 

 

No. Bueno.

I feel that for almost a year I’ve had a pretty good relationship with public transportation. It’s gotten me where I needed to go (albeit with a few mishaps which were mostly my fault) and it usually did so in a reasonable amount of time. I’ve never been assaulted or anything ridiculous. Granted, the majority of my riding has been done with my clients on the way to and from work, and more often than I would have preferred the chariot reminded me more of a public restroom than anything else. All in all though, it’s treated me okay.

There have been a couple of exceptions to the compromise I have made with Joe Metro.

I am not a small talker. I never developed an appreciation for quaint and useless conversation in public places with strangers. When I started taking the bus my first line of defense against finding myself in situations like that was a pair of headphones. And then another pair…and so on. Turns out Lucy likes snacking on small things with wires. My second, and current, line of defense is a good book (truth be told, I’ve gotten more ‘reading for pleasure’ done on the bus in the past year than I probably have in the past three years combined). Unfortunately a good book is no match for a pair of headphones, specifically when it happens to be a book others have heard of.

The status quo question is, “is that a good book?” Which in and of itself is a maddening question to feel obligated to answer. Why would I be reading it if it wasn’t enticing? I handle the question well though. I simply answer, ‘yes’, and dutifully return to reading it which usually provides the obvious sign that I would rather read (as I had clearly been doing) than chat. A couple of months ago I found myself caught in the trap of small talk however. The gentlemen that addressed me did so in a most sneaky way…by noticing what I was reading and starting off about other books on the same subject and changing the tactic into, ‘that’s a good book’. Harmless enough and I was in a good mood that day so politely thanked him for the suggestions. Until he snuck in a ”your hair looks very pretty” (what?!?) and then a “would you like to get a cup of coffee or a bite to eat sometime?” I politely responded that unfortunately that wouldn’t be possible (1. because he looked suspiciously at least 20 years my senior, and 2. because I’m just not all that interested in agreeing to meet up with men that are perfect strangers…it’s a sort of concerned-for-my-safety thing I have going on). He just happened to get off at one of the next two stops and I thought nothing more of it. Until today.

I started reading Twilight after my friend gave a glowing review of it. I was engrossed in this on the way home today. That was, until the individual on my left offered the following chit-chat…”excuse me, your hair is very pretty”. My automatic response was to begin to turn in order to say ’thank you’ with the full intention of immediately returning to my book in order to discourage further conference (as an aside all I was thinking initially was, “really. Cause I’m about three months overdue for a touch-up and that is obvious). Low and behold I realized it was the same 20-years-my-senior gentleman that asked me out two months ago and only when I actually made eye contact heard, ”would you like to get some coffee or a bite to eat sometime?” Good lord. The same conversation over again…”that won’t be possible”.

It’s good in more than one way that my car is getting fixed. I have the distinct impression that I will be breaking up with Metro post haste.

Small victories

No I’m not referring to the recent election; especially since that really can’t be termed simply a small victory in my opinion. I’ve sort of had a few recently, although they may not have seemed so at first.

The other day I realized that I have the ability to skip the endless waiting for a W-2 and file my taxes early based on my last paycheck for the year. Having filed taxes at THS before I happen to have the ID number which is pretty much the only thing missing from my last paycheck of 08. Curious while at work the other day, I rummaged through my drawer of paycheck stubs for the all important one I was seeking in order to check out my tax withheld. Oddly though, I couldn’t even locate my year to date income on it. I immediately became frustrated and shoved it back in the drawer thinking that someone must have messed up on my typed out (literally, it’s a typed piece of paper) paycheck stub. Today I happened to be talking with a friend at work on our break and I mentioned my frustration. She shared with me that her total income, etc. was certainly on her last paycheck. That’s when it hit me in a most overwhelming wave of realized idiocy.

I was looking at the wrong check.

OF COURSE my first check from 09 is not going to hold the answers I was seeking. It worked out well though…I was able to provide the employer ID number to my friend and she was able to provide me with an epiphany of how stupid I had been a few days ago. Yes. Worked out well indeed. In the interest of self-image, I was thankful to be more relieved than embarrassed.  Small victory…I will have my tax return soon.

Not all victories are so easily won though. I made it to work today…and while that shouldn’t necessarily count as a tremendous achievement, it did for me today. I got on the wrong bus. Really. I did.

I have been riding the joy of public transportation for many, many months now. There is one bus that journeys from lower Queen Anne right to the front door of my work; it vacilates between route 13 and route 2. Sounds pretty easy right? (On a side note, I learned the hard way to avoid route 2 express when I first began my public transportation era…I learned that it certainly is an express route since it completely avoids going up the hill which is where I need to go. In my defense, it had been a while since I was required to battle with Metro.) Apparently the wool had been pulled over MY eyes because maybe it’s not that easy. This morning while waiting in the cold I spied a route 13 coming down QA ave. In hindsight I realize that I did notice a millisecond of hesitation since it just said ‘downtown’ when it usually says ‘madrona park via E union’. However, in all these months I had only seen route 2 with just DT on it because they also say express. I boarded it on my happy way to work.

It didn’t turn on Spring st. That’s when I got that horrid pit-of-the-stomach feeling of ‘where the hell am I going?’ Sooo…I had to get off the deceitful bus in order to get back to where the honest 2 would get me to work; and I was really late. But at least I got there. Recent victory number 2.

The last one is actually not that small of a victory in the grand scheme of things, but at the same time it is. I am hard pressed to accurately describe it. There are situations that have the capacity to cause great cracks in our strength and durability. For me, they have that capacity especially when intertwined with men somehow. To be specific, when they are intertwined with a man who has behaved destructively and poorly about something which resulted in pain on my part.

Sometimes though, there are little angels that have the capacity to do little things which help with a healing process even when they don’t realize or even intend to help do so. Sometimes the smallest thing such as someone holding you, making the smallest effort to dry tears, refrain from judgment and asking anything of you  is enough kindness and caring to get over some of the huge hurdles of letting something go that might seem too big to let drop. Real friends do little things like that which sometimes in the long run are actually significant things, and I’m grateful to have people like that. Small victory number 3.