reckoning

in a way, i guess that i am learning to differentiate the true from the false. the reality from the idea. in considering the notion of moving once again, i am essentially considering throwing my entire life up in the air once again, not for reality's sake but for the idea of something better, whether it would actually be better or not. something different. what i have here in portland is my reality. and the truth is, i love it here. i love how green it is, both physically and ideologically. i love that i can get rid of my car (hopefully, eventually, working on it) and still be just fine.

i'm learning just how not good i am at establishing and maintaining relationships - of any kind. except on the internet; i'm good at sending emails and leaving comments. that's not enough. obviously. but when i think about it, it's no surprise. my parents divorced when i was six, and my dad took my sister and brother with him. so all i had growing up was a relationship with my mom. a rocky one, at that, between her alcoholism, my bitterness, and then her brief marraige to a douchebag. my sister, brother, dad and the rest of the family came and went. my mother and i moved around. a lot. so i have no idea how to sit still and be present in my own life, much less anyone else's. my siblings had their own struggles. my dad? well, my mother thinks he has a mild case of asperger's, if that gives you any idea.

for so many years i lamented the fact that i couldn't seem to find a good guy to settle down with. i kept dating idiots of varying degrees, or was just single for extended periods of time. my friends were as baffled as i felt; i'm a good person, right? why not me? and the ideas generated to answer those questions were always flattering on my behalf - that i'm just really amazing, and it's going to take someone equally as special to catch my attention. i love my friends for sticking by me like that.

i think the reality is that i'm just not ready. i don't know how to be an adult in a relationship. intimacy eludes me, because i never really learned how to foster relationships. when someone irritates me, i move on instead of working through it. i get more isolated as the years go by, and more judgmental along with it. i am worried about this. it's almost easy to convince myself that i'm good and i'm okay and that i prefer to be alone. but the way that it hurts reminds me that i'm probably full of shit about that.

so i'm going to work on it.

it took dating someone who is good and kind and who wanted to be with me to wake me up to all of this. i am still of the belief that there was something missing that would have eventually led to the dissolution of the relationship; i would like to think that if it wasn't missing, i would have risen to the occasion and tried to figure this all out with him by my side. but it pains me a great deal to think that i have essentially used him and his love in order to grow. obviously that was not my intention. my motives were, and have always been pure. but i look at our situation and it reminds me of me and my father - with me in my father's place. and so i guess, in a way, i finally understand just how hard it can be to leave someone who loves you with their whole heart. someone you love a great deal as well. but you go anyway because it's the right thing to do.

i am baffled by human interaction these days. i suppose that 25 years of living on the outskirts of things will do that to a person. and i'm sure that i just think about it too much which invariably leads to more questions than answers. for as long as i can remember, i wanted a family of my own. husband, kids, a pet or two... but i realize now that it was an idea of happiness i'd settled on because of my own lack of a cohesive family. i don't really know if that's what i want or not - it just sounded really, really nice. now i'm questioning that, for a number of reasons. i can say, however, that i miss the intimate moments shared with this most recent person. i want that again. but not until i can give it back.

and so it goes.