Have you ever?

Have you ever had a person make a serious and real attempt to destroy you?  I have once, and I am not talking about either of my parents and their apparently subconscious desires to do this.  I am talking about her.  She tried to fucking destroy me.  The best part of the story.  She didn't, she didn't even come close.  There was a level of pain she thought I was willing to endure, and she was right and I endured it.  What she didn't know was that I could have endured much more pain and much worse treatment, but I didn't.  The thing is, I chose to stop. What she didn't know is I can't be destroyed because I am not reducible to a thing, or identity, or object.  I am everything and nothing, the entire binary and its own negation.  I am

a short list of things I Hate

Everything. 


No, but seriously, work. 

Work:
- co-workers who take their shitty underpaid worthless disposable jobs way too seriously and try to talk to me seriously. 
- bosses who attempt to take the tiny dignity you had left before you showed up and constantly remind you they are the boss of the dumbass company/organization/school/prison that is completely fucking garbage and worthless
- clients/customers at work.  Today some old lady who is hopefully close to death decided to hassle the fuck out of me.  I told her, "way to go about your day hassling hourly staff with your bullshit."  She sarcastically repeated this back to me, this did not go well for her, or me. 

Friends:
-  people who think they know you better than you know yourself
- friends who play social hierarchy ladder climbing and bring you into their bullshit

Dating:
- anyone who is not straightforward
- anyone who is too cool
- anyone that tries to take your autonomy
- attempting to date with fucking cell phones and computers and the bullshit of modernity

politics:
- idiots who are into anarchism and not anarchy
- idiots who think anarchy is about making rules and having order
- idiots who think anarchy is about leftism and reform and social change
- idiots who believe justice is a thing, whether social or not
- idiots who think you can act right in this fucked up society that we are all currently living in
- idiots who refuse to read and engage with ideas but seem to have plenty of their own

the last 5 minutes

The last 5 minutes were a reminder of how much I am capable of hating every fucking thing in the world.  Also, this morning I hurt the feelings of a friend I consider to see me possibly the best/most of anyone I have ever been friends with.  I am feeling more regret about a decision I made this morning, which was not to wait for her for just 20 minutes, than I have basically any decision I have made in months. FUCK!

nightmare

This morning I had the first nightmare about her that I've had in at least a few weeks.  We were in a car arguing, and she had a serious boyfriend.  She was telling me things, but I didn't believe her.  My intuition told me she was lying, just like it had the entire time we were together, where she tried to crazy make me by telling me that my intuition, which was often right, was totally wrong by lying to me.  It was scary how easily I could fall back into that place, and scary how much space she occupies in my thoughts and heart.  I still love her and miss her, but nightmares like that bring so much angst and pain....

It's been in the 70s now, 100 is closing in.  I will keep mourning and I will keep moving.

Not changing is death

My best friend for a long time was my radio show partner.  We met when I began dating his ex.  That only lasted for a month and a half or 2.  She broke up with me and a few months later, ended it with him.  We slowly warmed up to each other, and I gave him books and we talked, endlessly.  B, his partner J, and I all decided organizing would be a good idea so we started working on an anti-gentrification anarchist volunteer project in West Oakland.  It went pretty bad.  I realize I risk sounding arrogant, but I almost never worry about my intellectual capacities.  There are plenty of people "smarter" than me, but I am pretty confident in my ability to read, understand, think, and create and imagine.  However, in this group full of leftists and psuedo anarchists I felt that I was not listened to at all.  It was a really strange experience.  Anyways, B and I grew out of this project because our ideas and questions were too big for it, we grew.  We started recording a radio show together that at this point has achieved what we could consider modest success.  We get more emails than we can easily respond to, and we meet people who listen fairly frequently.  All of this first paragraph is tangential though, because it is hard to talk about what is going on.

So, my friend C the other day told me that she thinks all relationships change at the 2 year mark.  She said people either grow apart or dive in and work at communicating.  I've been friends with B for 2 years.  We have both hurt each other, we had a brutal honesty policy for a long time, and things are hard.  I have felt at times that he talked about me to my ex S, which feels really painful.  I hurt him by hooking up with his new partner and not communicating well enough about it.  Now that partner is mad at me and there is a problem there.  The problem is that I am demonstrably NOT the person I was 2 years ago when B and I first met.  I know he has changed, but I have REALLY changed.  I committed to it, I wanted it, and I am getting it.  I am throwing good and bad out the window, I am less effected by other people's feelings, other people misunderstanding me, and I am more ready to tell people to fuck off if things are not working out.  In general, I actually respect myself now, I feel significantly less self loathing, and I feel the need to apologize less.  I say sorry when I mean it, but I refuse to say it when I don't. 


Pat the Bunny says that "forgiveness from those we hurt in this world never was guaranteed," and I agree.  However, B has been mad at me for about 3 months now, and I can't do much about that anymore.  I was as honest as I could be, and it wasn't enough.  I was accused of lying, manipulating, etc, and I honestly do not feel that I attempted to manipulate or lie once.  I was in a weird place when I hooked up with his partner, and I am not going to shame myself or feel angry at myself for taking a while to realize things that I probably would have liked.  I do wish I had never hurt him, because I hate seeing him in pain, but I refuse to hate myself any longer.  I will analyze my decisions and thoughts and feelings and try to act as I would like to be treated, but never again will I sit in self loathing.  I am different.  I am not a leftist any longer.  I am an anarchist, and that means something to me.  It means NO.  It means fuck you.  It means I am myself, whatever that is, and it fine.  It means no more excuses, no more denial, it means I am raw.  It means living a life of joy and pain and adventure, and constantly trying to be free in each moment.  I am different than I was 2 years ago, a lot different.  And I will keep changing, even if I have no idea what is coming next.  I don't know what this means for our friendship, but I do feel like I am seen as the person I was 2 years ago and not whoever the fuck I am today, and that makes it hard to have a friendship.  I'm sure the situation is a lot more complicated than this, but this is the best I can do about it now. 

Rulik & I

I have had therapy every wednesday morning at 8am for the past 20 months with a older Jewish man named Rulik.  Rulik is a friend of my aunt's and as a friend of hers he has been giving me discounted therapy for a while now.  When I first saw Rulik in July of 2013 I was in a bad place.  I was in a relationship that was taking(or I was giving up) my autonomy and hurting me everyday.  I didn't trust the person I was with, for good reason, but it still hurt.  I was trying to be close to someone who was not meeting me anywhere near the middle, and I was reaching too far, and it was unhealthy for both of us.  I was madly in love, and I was a mess.  I was riddled with guilt over my various privileges and lived in an almost exclusively QTPOC house where I was not really seen, which is whatever, but I needed a change. 

Therapy began pretty seriously.  Rulik took seriously(unlike my partner at the time) how difficult of a time I had growing up in the shadow of my older sister Alexis.  He took seriously how I was never seen growing up, and the pain I still wore from 18 years of living in a house with a very obviously, very traditional, abusive relationship between my parents.  Rulik recognized the guilt and pain I held so tightly immediately.  He told me that one day, when we were done, I would look in a mirror and say to myself, "this man, this is a good man."  My friends and partner at the time used to joke about this all the time, but it was really fucking serious for me.  Today in therapy I realized something.  I realized that I am no longer concerned with being a good person.  I am able to look in the mirror now and say I am a person and that I am enough.  I still fight to change the things I want to, every fucking day.  However, the narrative has changed.  I started something nearly two years ago, and today I am able to say I have accomplished much of what I was looking for.  I no longer feel the need to help others, I just do it when I want to, and it has led to much healthier friendships.  I no longer am wracked with guilt, and I haven't hurt myself in several months.  It doesn't mean I don't have hard times or want to hurt myself, because I do, but sometimes I go to bed satisfied. 

2 years ago I never could have imagined myself writing this.  I never could have imagined not living the emotional rollercoaster everyday, but here I am.  I sold the car that has been giving me trouble, I have been working for 2 months, I am doing well with the radio show, I have solid friends, I lost 16 pounds this month,  I am working on two big writing projects along with this blog which I am maintaining much more, and I am worried less and less what people I don't know well think of me.  I have had several confrontations over the last several months, and many of them have had positive results.  A roommate and I yelled at each other in the living room 4 months ago and really let each other have it, and now I would say we have a much healthier relationship.  That is a rare thing, to be able to do that with someone, but for him and I it worked.  I have dealt with my other conflicts in much different ways.  I nearly lost my best friend due to drama between us, and never did I let it destroy me, never did I question my value as a human being, I stayed calm throughout most of it.  I am really fucking proud of that. 

At the end of therapy today Rulik brought up where we are going and if it is possible we have reached a break or possibly an ending point, at least for now.  If we are able to end and talk about ending, it will be the first time I have ever done that with a therapist.  I usually just leave.  I love Rulik, and it is a beautiful and fascinating relationship for me.  We are very different, but he gets me, and a similar sense of humor, and together we have done LOTS of work.  I am excited about ending our relationship in a real way, or at least putting it on hold for a while, if it isn't growing anymore, mostly because I am doing so much better and have such a different narrative for how I navigate the world.  I am really looking forward to these conversations with him and possibly stopping seeing him and really working on being able to be satisfied.  Even though I sleep alone basically every night, and my cuddles are at an all time low(as well as sex), I go to bed satisfied in my projects, in my mental and physical health, and in my friendships. 

On a final note, I drove home from therapy today and some song on the radio came on with these lyrics. 
Apparently it is Kelly Clarkson, but whatever, I am not above finding personal relevance in pop lyrics.
"Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories, they're haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye
Even with our fists held high
It never would have worked out right, yeah
We were never meant for do or die
I didn't want us to burn out
I didn't come here to hurt you now I can't stop
I want you to know
That it doesn't matter
Where we take this road
But someone's gotta go
And I want you to know
You couldn't have loved me better
But I want you to move on
So I'm already gone
Looking at you makes it harder
But I know that you'll find another
That doesn't always make you wanna cry
It started with the perfect kiss then
We could feel the poison set in
"Perfect" couldn't keep this love alive
You know that I love you so
I love you enough to let you go"

Super cheesy but whatever.  It was never going to work for us.  I was too ready to give up my autonomy and she was too ready to use, take, and manipulate me.  Most of our memories are haunted for me, and in the end everything I did hurt her, even hugging her or telling her I loved her, hurt her.  That is because she is an addict, just like I am, but in a much different way.  Rulik said today that an addict can't feel satisfied and that is how I would describe her.  Sex, hugs, love, cuddles, nothing could satisfy her.  She still went to bed worried about nightmares, she still woke up everyday feeling as though the day was a mountain to be climbed, not a hill to ride a bike down screaming at the top of her lungs with the wind flying in her face.  I have sympathy for that, but I want to be satisfied sometimes.  We could immediately feel the poison set in, and she kept adding to it, lying, dating other people secretly, hurting me.  And in turn, what she wanted I could never be.  I could never understand how she could love and do this, it was too hard.  And I love her, so much, I still do.  I loved her enough to let her go.  It's like Conor says, if you love something set it free.  I had to break up with her, I had to set myself free, to love myself.  I could not love myself with her.  And I wanted to love her and me, but it was impossible, she wasn't ready for that, and maybe at that time I wasn't either. 

Anyways, I am feeling satisfied.  I am going to now go to the hospital and hope that I am still in remission from cancer, I will register my truck, and I will go to work, and get beers with friends after.  I will go to bed satisfied, even in missing her, and I will look in the mirror no long needing to ascribe value to myself, and accept myself as me, in all my beautiful chaos. 

from a long line of terrible

from a long line of terrible:






 It isn't always true, but most terrible people come from a long line of terrible.  I come from a long line of terrible, mostly on one side.  My other side has a pretty good mix of both.  I come from a boringly typical abusive relationship.  The kind of relationship where the husband and the wife fight over a sandwich, or who won the 1980 world series, and then he calls her a bitch, and she pretends she is a martyr, and we all go to our rooms unhappy.  This was childhood for me.  It was a constant battle to be recognized, to be seen, to be known, and it was unsuccessful.  I tried to fix thing, I fought to do it, I thought that with enough work things would change, but they never did.  Now, I know that inertia is real and not to be fucked with lightly, and I don't fuck with it lightly. 

When I met her a few years ago her inertia ran me over.  Decades of terrible person and terrible things created an inertia that I jumped in front of and maybe slowed it down, maybe sped it up, but eventually I had to jump out of the way because it was going to kill me.  I chose my life.  She chose to ride the inertia.  Maybe she isn't riding it anymore, maybe she is, I couldn't know because I never see or hear from her.  It's been 66 days since I even looked at her blog or tumblr or instagram or anything.  Over 2 months of full radio silence.  I guess I feel more distance, but I also feel other things, like sadness, curiosity, love, and pain. 

At 100 days, I won't wait any longer.

My Favorite Memory

My favorite memory of her is easy.  There are two that stick out.  One was the first time I saw her, watching It, sitting on a couch at Farm Sanctuary in Orland.  I had an intuition that somehow our lives would intertwine in a meaningful way.  The one that sticks out the most though happened a couple years later. 

It is difficult to remember exactly what led up to this moment.  It was late at night and we had just had sex/fucked/made love/whatever you want to call it.  I was laying in bed, and she got out of bed, totally naked, still by far the most beautiful human I have ever met or seen.  She walked over to the dresser and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and placed a towel or clothing under the door to the hallway of the apartment she shared with 3 others.  Nobody in that house would be pleased if they smelled the smoke.  Then she looked at me and smirked, because for once I was her accomplice.  We were together in this small but important breaking of taboo and house law.  As she walked over to the window completely nude she caught my eyes on her, and shook her head as I was obviously pleased at finding myself in this situation, post-coital with her about to smoke.  She lit a cigarette and perched one leg up on the windowsill. Her cigarette smoking arm tattooed and her breasts bare, lit by the moon visible through the open window.  In the moment, I knew the moment was perfect.  I joined her, either asking for a drag or more likely smoking my own.  As we stood there naked, telling cancer and long life and pain and suffering and our bodies to go fuck themselves, I sensed a hint of satisfaction in her.  I definitely could feel it in myself, and though both of us are almost always at least a little bit sad, in this moment the sadness was outweighed by the moon, the black sky, the open window the smoke flowed through, and our naked bodies held close.  I promised myself while standing there with her that I would never forget this moment, I promised myself this silently.  I told myself, James, you will never forget this, and in that moment I validated my entire existence.  And now, at least a year later, I still remember, just like I promised myself I would.  I remember her eyes, her body, her smile, wry as it ever was.  I know sadness followed, and there was hurt before and after, and there is sadness and hurt now, probably for her as well as me, but I remember holding back(or just crying)tears of joy that evening, tears of presence, tears of bliss, tears of satisfaction at having a beautiful moment in this life full of so many ugly ones.  I doubt I will ever forget that night.  I presume that, just as I am now, I will have to hold back tears when I think of that night.  I can't even remember what we did before that, or after, or the week before or the next day.  I can't place that night in a timeline and make justifications for it, or say it was a peak or a valley or an aberration.  I can't say anything.  All I can do is remember that moment, that collection of images, of us puffing away our lives naked staring at the moon, joking with Oliver, her cat, and being free for just a while.  I remember. 

58 days

It's been 58 days.  My last post was a lot angrier than I expected when I wrote it.  I think mostly I am angry at her for continually making choices that made real intimacy and closeness impossible, and made it so that the only real choice I had for myself was to break up with her.  It still annoys me.  It still hurts, and I still miss her.  I will count to 100, a meaningless insignificant choice, and then things will change, because I will them to.  I will do the show today, hang with friends, and keep moving.