when the time comes, you'll know...that you need to grow a set

I have many mentors. Most of them I chose for myself, and some of them don’t even know. One of them is an older black woman who has been married to the same man for almost as long as I’ve been alive. We’ll call her Oracle, after the sage in the Matrix series. She was unable to conceive her own children, but she has stepchildren, an adopted child and grandchildren. She said that my life is filled with intimate involvements with severely damaged men. She said that she couldn’t understand why. To her, I seem to be a relatively baggage-free woman. I was surprised when she told me that. She said that my problem with emotional baggage is my inability to realize that I no longer have any. So, she thinks that maybe I attract these guys with so much baggage because I exude energy that says, ‘Give me your baggage because I need something to carry.’


I gravitate towards men who show compassion for other people and know how to have fun. No matter what I say, I cannot deny that there is always a sign to let me know when I’ve touched on something complex that is buried deep; I just choose to ignore it sometimes. For me, as a person who has survived and who knows other functioning survivors of abuse and grief, I believe that no matter what a person has gone through, there is still a good chance that they can be a happy and productive member of society. When you take away all the confusion around the dysfunction of growing up under tension and trauma, it comes down to one basic fact – eventually every person comes to a point in their life when they have to make a choice. You either choose to face the ugly truth and start working on breaking free from it or you choose to ignore it and continue living your life with the blinders on. Although it’s easier to just wear the blinders, it’s still a constant battle to keep ignoring the truth that keeps getting bigger and pushing into your fantasy world until it starts driving you crazy. This is where self-medicating fills in the gaps for most of us. Every alcoholic and drug addict is just someone whose pain was stronger than their will. I’ve been there. If my doctor could say so, I was an alcoholic in high school. My parents were both alcoholics at some point in their lives. The appealing thing about alcoholism and substance abuse is that when you wake up in the morning and say, ‘my life is so pathetic’, you can just get high and that voice of self pity just goes away. Oh man, I have totally been there.

Everybody needs a moment to feel bad for themselves and give themselves some sympathy. There is also something to be said about drowning your sorrows with kindred spirits. However, one day you wake up and you are sick to death of feeling pitiful (and tired of being hung over). So, you dust yourself off and deal with it. Everybody falls on their face a bunch of times before they manage to get strong again. You just can’t give up. That is the bottom line.

I like having people around me who have been through the wringer a few times. They really appreciate the simple things. Every night when I peel back the linens on my bed, I make this cooing sound in anticipation of feeling the sheets against my skin and sinking into the down and memory foam. I consciously took note of it for the first time last night, but I realized that I do it every time. When I go out with Twin Peaks and Puppet Master, we are giddy and often irritatingly friendly because we are so pleased to just be happy, together and having fun. I thought that KB and I also felt that way. For a time, I guess we did. When it came time to do the work and grow together, we couldn’t find any common ground. I am a demanding person, especially strict on myself, and I expect a lot from someone who shares so much of my time and resources.

For some reason, when I tell a man who is interested in being romantically involved with me that I am a slave-driving bitch, he never believes me. Maybe he says to himself, ‘she can’t be that bad because she talks so nice to me.’ Well, let me tell you something. The evil things I think are a hundred times worse than anything I’d ever say. When I see a guy wallowing in pity I think, ‘be a man, you pussy!’ I say, “Everyone has tough times. Take some time out and get yourself together. You’re going to be fine.” Oracle says that there aren’t any men who have experienced intense trauma that are strong enough to pull through it. She says that they will always need someone to help them carry their baggage. She says that they are not capable of coping as well as women do and will not be able to recover – they will always be dependent. I disagree. There has to be someone. I refuse to believe that there are no strong men out there. I don’t expect to find a man who is indestructible, but at least one who can spend time and energy to see things that are out of balance and work on them. I am aware that no one will ever be close to perfect, but complacency just bugs the hell out of me. I was one of the worst cases - complete with suicide attempts. If I can move past it, anyone can.  I am not that special...though I'd like to think so.

I do not have any plans of becoming more sympathetic. In my mind there is a line that cannot be crossed (thanks to T.H. for putting it that way). At this point in my life, alcoholism is one of the things that lie beyond that line. Losing my temper and spewing filth out of my piehole like a psychopath is also on the other side. I do not have any fantasies about saving other people from their demons. If someone wants to live their life on the other side of the line, they are free to do so. I’ve come too far to go back, so I won’t have any parts of it. Furthermore, if someone thinks so little of themselves that they want to go there bad enough to take me down with them, I reevaluate our association.