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Day 519 – To BE Taken Care Of

October 21, 2019

Hi there.
Long time. Been avoiding. There’s something about writing here that is different than anything else. I’ve said this before. It’s like, praying, meditating, journaling, exercising, therapy, talking to friends, sleeping, eating, physical touch… they all do their own things to help move the day along.

Writing in this blog does something different, too. It exercises a different part of me. It makes me face things in clear thoughts. It holds me a bit accountable. Not really, but kind of. It makes things real because I am sharing my thoughts with the world, and so, mentally, I approach this a bit differently than I do with my handwritten journal that nobody sees.

I’m at an airport. I’m gonna tell the truth. It’s embarrassing because I’m too fine and too old and I’ve experienced too much for this kind of thing to happen, but here goes. I’m at an airport. About to go catch a bus and head home to my city of Angels. And my bed with trees outside of the window. And my soft water shower. And the people who I have linked arms with and journeyed during these past years of my life.

I am at an airport because I went to see a man. A man who doesn’t want me. You’ve heard of him before. The Advisor. The last man standing in my heart. I don’t really know how he got into my heart or how he lodged himself so deeply in my mind and imagination, but he’s been here, like a benign cancer, a mass, for a little over a year.

Him being in my heart hasn’t caused much trouble in my life, or so I thought. What had happened was, I knew this guy. He was my college teacher many many years ago, actually. He never tried to hit on me while he was my teacher, and we stayed in communication after I graduated. We would send Facebook messages to each other every now and then. He would comment on some of the poems I’d write and he really liked my writing and encouraged me to pursue publishing and production. We would communicate online on and off over the years. Always positive and sweet. Not too personal except for a very subtle flirt from him every now and then.

Then last year, I was visiting my home town, where he lives, and I invited him to meet up. We met up. Went to the movies. Talked. We held hands. His hands were full of fire and love and passion. I loved his hands. At some point, he tried to lay his head on my lap, but then got up, saying it was too much. He had just gone through a divorce, and was kind of traumatized from his previous relationship.

We spoke about how we wanted to relate to each other moving forward. He didn’t want to get into a relationship with anyone, and I was super single and actually wanting to meet someone that I could partner with for life. He said he could really use a friend, and so we decided to be friends….

I paused while writing this. Meditated for a bit. Received inspiration saying, “Let yourself be taken care of.”

But to finish the story. My friend and I were good friends. I loved him. Then one day he came out to LA to visit me without telling me. I didn’t know he was here. He told me he was in a city that’s both in LA County and in our home town, and I thought he meant he as in our home town. At the time, I was dating someone. I thought he was asking me to get on a plane, come visit him in our hometown and spend the night with him. I told him I couldn’t go see him because me and my boyfriend have an agreement that I don’t spend the night with guys…

He was devastated about me not coming, and at the time, I couldn’t understand why. Then he asked me to visit him again. This time, it was my mom’s birthday, and my mom is real particular about her image. She didn’t know I had been in touch with this guy, who is also a popular member of our cultural community in our hometown. I would have had to visit him while my mom was around, or tell her I was going to visit him, which would make her mad. She would be embarrassed and I would have essentially had to fight her in order to go see him. So I didn’t.

He was leaving to go overseas. We both have the same mother country overseas. I thought he was just going for a trip for the summer, but I later found out that he had gotten a job over there and was moving. He was gonna come back to the states and pack up shop before moving, and during his absence overseas, I realized that I had a feeling for him in my heart. Me and my boyfriend had broken up, and here was my friend the Advisor, just on my heart. I asked him for us to see each other when he got back to the states.

Then it happened. He told me he liked me. He was mad at me. He told me he had come to see me in Cali and I wouldn’t see him. That’s when I realized that he had been in Cali that time that he asked me to visit him. I hadn’t known. But he wouldn’t believe me, even though I sent him a copy of our text message exchange which clearly indicated that I hadn’t known he was in Cali. So he was mad at me. That was over a year ago. Our relationship changed after that.

He didn’t talk to me in nice tones anymore. He would go back and forth. It’s like, he naturally would sound so loving and then he’d catch himself and make sure he said something mean to me.

He told me that he wanted to have sex with me, and that he had wanted to have sex with me all these years. And he told me don’t come around him unless I was gonna have sex with him.. Yep. He said it just like that. When I went overseas, I saw him once. It was a lovely, intimate encounter, or at least I thought it was, but we didn’t have sex.

“Leave these men alone,” says the voice in my head.

Me and the Advisor fought. We’ve been fighting for over eight months. Mostly over nothing. Mostly he just ignores me before we even wrap up any topic of conversation, and even though we’ve been in close physical proximity for the past eight months, he makes it a point not to see me. I guess I should take a hint. I guess I should have taken a hint. I think we’re fighting because I won’t have sex with him? Or we’re fighting because he’s mad that I didn’t see him when he came to Cali? I don’t kow, because we never actually talk about what his problem is with me. Just every now and then, we talk. I ask for us to meet up so we can finalize things. And either talk about our issue and move forward, or just decide we’re not going to engage with each other anymore.

He says we’ll meet up. Then he disappears. He probably has avoidant personality disorder, among a slew of other mental conditions.

But for some reason, his crazy and harsh behavior couldn’t push me away for too long. I kept coming back, asking him to meet up, asking him to talk. He kept sitting there in my heart as a fantasy unrealized. I only remembered him as the integrous teacher and friend that I used to have. I thought he was going through things. This wasn’t the real him. Someone had put a spell on him or something, or maybe his job in Africa had gotten the best of him, and he was usffereing from extreme PTSD like most people who go to our country for any amount of time.

I wanted him to be who he was to me long ago: a friend, an ally, a safe space for my heart, a confidant. I wanted us to start again and let’s see what we could do with each other. Because I could have fallen deep for him. It was too easy for me to see myself with him. With our kids. Being happy together. Living awesome lives together. I thought I would give him the fun and passion and depth that he so craved and he would balance me with his practical approach to life.

So, after talking to him and realizing he was visiting our hometown for a little bit of time, I asked him if he wanted me to come visit him and if he wanted to see me. He said yes, and as we were talking about the arrangements, he went MIA. I only have a limitied amount of time before I need to focus on making money, and that time was now, and I knew he would be leaving the states soon, too, so I took it upon myself to get a ticket to go see him. I called him and messaged him for over a week to tell him my plans. He didn’t respond.

The day of my trip, he finally caleld me. Said he couldn’t house me. I asked him if I should come. He said he’d call back. He didn’t. I called him. No answer. I message him. He replied. Said a bunch of shit, arguing about whether he had agreed for me to come. Still didn’t tell me not to come. Still didn’t tell me to come. Was mean as hell, saying “If I have time to see you then I will. If I don’t, I won’t.”

I know. I’m too fine and awesome to let men talk to me like that, but I did. I let him. I told him I’m coming and that’s all I’m doing and I hope to see him.

And I didn’t. I didn’t see him. I got on a bus, rode five hours, then got on a plane to go see him. I called and messaged him from the airport, asking him if he could tell me if he was gonna see me or if he was gonna pick me up so I could plan accordingly. He didn’t respond.

Then, after me sitting in an airport chair for over ten hours, I called him again. This time he asnwered. His tone was so harsh. He asked how I’m doing. I said I’m not good. I asked how he’s doing, and he said ok. Said he had just finished with his engagement for the morning. I said, “Ok… So?” Then he said, in a harsh voice, “You made an outgoing call.” And I just lost it.

I don’t have a bunch of money. I’ve been outputting money with no income for almost a year now. I spent my last little change to come see him. And he didn’t even respond to my messages all day and now he was talking about I made an outgoing call??? I busted out crying. “Why are you being so mean to me?” I asked. “I can’t take anymore of this meanness. I gotta go.” I hung up the phone.

I sent him a text message, telling him I’d reached my breaking point. I told him that I hoped that someone he really loved treated him the way he has treated me one day. You will say don’t be vindictive, but I don’t care. I mean it. It’s not even coming from a place of spite. It will be a service to him and a service to the world if he can really feel the gravity of how he’s been. He doesn’t see himself as the asshole he’s been, and if he’s ever able to see it, I’m sure he’ll change it.

He didn’t respond to my messages. Grace stepped in, and a friend of mine picked me up from the airport, hosted me in his house overnight, and spent the next day with me. Now I’m at an airport heading home. One more bus ride to go..

I don’t know how I feel. I guess I don’t feel anything, and that’s a problem for me, becaues I’m really good at disassociating from my feelings when I’m hurt.

So I’m try to feel on purpose. How do I feel? I feel like a nothng. I feel hurt and wounded. I feel spit on. I wonder why I haven’t been able to get it right with men and why I have such a history of falling for men who don’t want me, or men who want me, but just want to use and abuse me and never think of taking care of me.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt it; looking towards someone who is looking towards me and just wanting to love me. I am usually looking towards someone’s back or they are looking towards mine.

I am also feeling relieved. I wasn’t looking forward to being hurt all the time and being in relationship with someone who was just gonna be mean to me. I feel sorry for all the people in abusive, dysfunctional relationships. I feel sorry for myself, but not so sorry any more. Because I think I’ve had enough finally.

Can I tell you a secret? When I was on my way there, I do this meditation, which I learned from the Feminine Power class by Claire Zammit. You connect your strong, powerful aspects of self with the self in your body that feels wounded or hurt or stuck. And you ask the hurt part of your body how it feels and what it needs. You do this while extending love and connection to yourself.

So before I went on my trip, I asked my body how it felt, and it was horrified that I was gonna get hurt and abused if I went to see Advisor. I promised my little horrified self that I’d keep her safe. I promised her that I wouldn’t let anyone abuse her anymore… I had been thinking about maybe having sex with Mr. Advisor. That way, I thought, it would fix everything. But then I thought about the promise I made the self in my body. I wouldn’t be keeping her safe if I had sex with someone whom, I didn’t even know if he’s physically healthy. I wouldn’t be keeping her safe if I kept engaging with people who were trying to hurt her and bring her down. I wouldn’t be keeping her safe if I allowed anything but loving energy and kindness into her body.

So I didn’t do it. I didn’t give someone else what they wanted at the expense of my safety and health. It was a big deal for me. It is a big deal for me. I don’t usually honor and respect my own safety, desires, wants, references and needs… So I’m learning.

I’m learning… I’m growing up, finally. It’s been a long time coming…

Just realized this is a super long entry… Sorry. I’m thinking about this idea of being taken care of. Even the idea makes me feel a bit guilty… Oh, the world has done a number on my kind. We are not even ok with thinking about this idea that someone should take care of us, nurture us, love us, provide for us, just because. Just because we exist, we should be able to live and pursue the things that we want. Just because we exist, and for no other reason, someone can love us… Can you stomach that? It’s real challenging for me to let that sink in.

Someone could Love me? With all of my flaws? All of my mistakes? All of the things I have not done? All of the things I have done? Someone could just be nice to me and be patient with me as I’m learning and growing? Someone would want to do that for me? I am trying to imagine someone putting their arms around me and kissing the back of my neck… and not asking me for shit. My brain says it’s not fair. If they kiss your neck, what are you gonna do?

But my heart knows that I’d kiss their neck, too, and then some, and that naturally I do not ask for support from people that I wouldn’t give to them.

For now, I give thanks for the people who have taken very good care of me. There are many. I am grateful. No man holding me and saying, “Hey babe. I’m gonna fly you in to see me and we’re gonna have an awesome time!” And planning stuff and asking am I ok and wanting to just make me proud of him.. I’m not even mad at the Advisor. I’m just sad at him.

But I know, that finally, this heartbreak will not last too long. An energy is dissipating. Something putrid is falling away. I know that I have learned my lesson at last. Do you want to know what the lesson is? It’s not an angry lesson. It’s not a judgy lesson. It’s not even a proud lesson. It’s not us against the world. It’s a lesson bathed in compassion, acknowledging another’s woundedness and misdirection and also honoring your own needs and taking a stand for your own care and safety. You can do both. So what I learned this weekend is to finallly take care of myself.

Finally. Look towards my own Blessed self. See if I can just take care of myself without feeling guilty that I didn’t succumb to what another wants or expects of me. The funny thing is, taking care of myself will always include sharing with and giving to others, but in healthy ways… Taking care of myself means putting my shoulders doan, not worrying about how others see my need for support, and just letting people love me and help me along the way. I’ve been going this journey by myself for quite some time. It’s time to let others in. It’s time to really get into others’ lives and take care of them, too. And it’s time for me to hold my own self in my own arms and say “I Love you. I Love you, anyway. I Love you because… I Love you in spite of… I Love you, I Love you, I Love because in spite of… I Love you I Love you I Love you…”

I Love You.


Day 519
To Be Taken Care Of

From → The Harvest

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