The thing about how I love...
Feb. 3rd, 2013 06:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightrosefoxIt starts with Saturday, Imbolc 2013.
See, on Facebook, I ran into the girlfriend of a guy I had been friends with for years but had never honestly had one on one time with. Which is the story of my life, actually: Having all these friends and these acquaintances, and having memories of only parties, large gatherings, where if I wanted to talk with someone alone I had to almost push my way through and schedule a place.
Ben had always been The Dude. He abides. He has always abided. He is friends with so many people. It is understandable. His girlfriend, Jess... I didn't know her. We seemed to have many things in common. After months and months, I finally reached out to message her. And we began talking. And something started happening.
I said, "We really really need to get together. Just us. No parties, no house gatherings. Adam may or may not be home. But no matter what, I want you meet you, in my house." And she agreed, and we made arrangements for Imbolc weekend. Adam was indeed going to be home, so he and I set up for brunch and awaited the arrival of Ben and Jess.
They arrived, and I hugged Jess like an old, lost friend, and looking at her there was this instant knowing, this instant understanding and energy of "Yes, I know you. It has been so many lifetimes. I missed you." I hugged Ben the same way, but with a little less intensity, as I already knew him.
After a magnificent brunch, I gave Jess a tour of the upstairs and showed her my gemstones, and we talked about our spiritualities, our energies... how I am a beacon and she is a generator. And yes, the energy that came from her made my head buzz pleasantly. I realized that several items I'd been keeping hidden had been meant for her, and she was extremely grateful. I had randomly thrown wood brushes, lip balms, skin creams, gemstones, and makeup into a black canvas shoulder bag; I gave her all of it. It turned out that it was all exactly what she needed, even the bag. It had all been intuition and connection. I had known her already. And we talked about knowing people, about how she and Ben had known immediately that they were for each other. We talked about energy, about metaphysics and quantum physics. We talked about getting together again, since they live very close to our neighborhood.
When they left, and the energy was still rushing around the house and my head, I sat and considered. I believe I tend to be a little forceful and intense when establishing a friendship with a person I deeply like. I wanted badly to grab Jess' hands and tell her how deeply I knew her, how intensely we connected. But she knew. It was in her face. She always made eye contact when we talked and she always smiled at me. She glowed.
Later, I messaged her, asking if I did okay, if I wasn't too extreme, if I didn't put my feet in my mouth too much. No, she said, she and Ben had genuinely and honestly had fun and wanted to see me again. And that relaxed me more than I could have realized.
Making friends is so, so, so difficult, because I need to communicate on specific levels before I can actually approach them. Fascinatingly enough, Facebook and Livejournal are among the best things that have happened to me regarding this kind of communication. I need to type out words, ritualistically, deliberately, allowed to pause and stumble and correct. I need to assure myself that there can be a connection when we meet. My family cannot understand, and I know why, and I get that. But I am unable to simply walk up to someone and start a comfortable conversation without feeling an absolute terror of possible rejection so deep that I can hardly speak.
I love fiercely, I love deeply, I love powerfully, I love in ways that seem insistent. I need friends who can do that with me. And yet I will always, always wonder if I am making mistakes, if I am coming off as "too crazy, too weird, too dumb, too whiny, too clingy, too repulsive." I have learned that in the past, people have questioned my relationship with my husband, wondering how he could "put up" with me, if I was truly the right partner for him, if he could even handle me on a constant, consistent basis. I have taught myself to let those comments go, because nobody has any say about my relationship but my partner and myself. However, it really is fascinating and very interesting that people who should know me would assume that I am not good enough to be loved by someone who has so many different ways of living than I do.
Loving me is a hard thing, a wild thing, a weird thing, a deliberate thing, a test of strength and resolve. I am intense and extreme and stubborn and wistful and insane and I am too much inside my own head and quite often not fully aware of my environment. To love me is to live a journey through many worlds. I just want friends who can do that for me. I don't even care if they would badmouth me. These days I have stopped caring about many things.
The heart-breaking problem with online friendships is that meeting in person is usually improbable, or highly difficult. But if I were able, if I had all the money and opportunity, I would find a way too meet all the friends I have made online who I knew could love me the way I needed.
Right now, all I know is that I must see Jess, and Ben, soon. Maybe it will help bring me out of this quantum shell I have constructed around my heart.
See, on Facebook, I ran into the girlfriend of a guy I had been friends with for years but had never honestly had one on one time with. Which is the story of my life, actually: Having all these friends and these acquaintances, and having memories of only parties, large gatherings, where if I wanted to talk with someone alone I had to almost push my way through and schedule a place.
Ben had always been The Dude. He abides. He has always abided. He is friends with so many people. It is understandable. His girlfriend, Jess... I didn't know her. We seemed to have many things in common. After months and months, I finally reached out to message her. And we began talking. And something started happening.
I said, "We really really need to get together. Just us. No parties, no house gatherings. Adam may or may not be home. But no matter what, I want you meet you, in my house." And she agreed, and we made arrangements for Imbolc weekend. Adam was indeed going to be home, so he and I set up for brunch and awaited the arrival of Ben and Jess.
They arrived, and I hugged Jess like an old, lost friend, and looking at her there was this instant knowing, this instant understanding and energy of "Yes, I know you. It has been so many lifetimes. I missed you." I hugged Ben the same way, but with a little less intensity, as I already knew him.
After a magnificent brunch, I gave Jess a tour of the upstairs and showed her my gemstones, and we talked about our spiritualities, our energies... how I am a beacon and she is a generator. And yes, the energy that came from her made my head buzz pleasantly. I realized that several items I'd been keeping hidden had been meant for her, and she was extremely grateful. I had randomly thrown wood brushes, lip balms, skin creams, gemstones, and makeup into a black canvas shoulder bag; I gave her all of it. It turned out that it was all exactly what she needed, even the bag. It had all been intuition and connection. I had known her already. And we talked about knowing people, about how she and Ben had known immediately that they were for each other. We talked about energy, about metaphysics and quantum physics. We talked about getting together again, since they live very close to our neighborhood.
When they left, and the energy was still rushing around the house and my head, I sat and considered. I believe I tend to be a little forceful and intense when establishing a friendship with a person I deeply like. I wanted badly to grab Jess' hands and tell her how deeply I knew her, how intensely we connected. But she knew. It was in her face. She always made eye contact when we talked and she always smiled at me. She glowed.
Later, I messaged her, asking if I did okay, if I wasn't too extreme, if I didn't put my feet in my mouth too much. No, she said, she and Ben had genuinely and honestly had fun and wanted to see me again. And that relaxed me more than I could have realized.
Making friends is so, so, so difficult, because I need to communicate on specific levels before I can actually approach them. Fascinatingly enough, Facebook and Livejournal are among the best things that have happened to me regarding this kind of communication. I need to type out words, ritualistically, deliberately, allowed to pause and stumble and correct. I need to assure myself that there can be a connection when we meet. My family cannot understand, and I know why, and I get that. But I am unable to simply walk up to someone and start a comfortable conversation without feeling an absolute terror of possible rejection so deep that I can hardly speak.
I love fiercely, I love deeply, I love powerfully, I love in ways that seem insistent. I need friends who can do that with me. And yet I will always, always wonder if I am making mistakes, if I am coming off as "too crazy, too weird, too dumb, too whiny, too clingy, too repulsive." I have learned that in the past, people have questioned my relationship with my husband, wondering how he could "put up" with me, if I was truly the right partner for him, if he could even handle me on a constant, consistent basis. I have taught myself to let those comments go, because nobody has any say about my relationship but my partner and myself. However, it really is fascinating and very interesting that people who should know me would assume that I am not good enough to be loved by someone who has so many different ways of living than I do.
Loving me is a hard thing, a wild thing, a weird thing, a deliberate thing, a test of strength and resolve. I am intense and extreme and stubborn and wistful and insane and I am too much inside my own head and quite often not fully aware of my environment. To love me is to live a journey through many worlds. I just want friends who can do that for me. I don't even care if they would badmouth me. These days I have stopped caring about many things.
The heart-breaking problem with online friendships is that meeting in person is usually improbable, or highly difficult. But if I were able, if I had all the money and opportunity, I would find a way too meet all the friends I have made online who I knew could love me the way I needed.
Right now, all I know is that I must see Jess, and Ben, soon. Maybe it will help bring me out of this quantum shell I have constructed around my heart.
