9:58 PM where are you now?

 

I'm sitting at my kitchen island, in the apartment my friend says is great.  She came over for dinner and watched a couple episodes of Shrinking, then got antsy and left. Pulling out of depression, but more anxious and energized. Who knows what is right for any of us. 

Watching shrinking made me cry multiple times and laugh a lot too. There is a longing that my heart feels right now, for something real, for some tenderness, closeness. My friend says I should meet someone in the elevator, and I can only think of how many times I've wanted to put my head down or look at my phone or wait to get the next one. Reluctantly eager? Eagerly reluctant? 

I have been feeling this loneliness for a while and I don't want to let it in too much. I find that I am spending way too much time distracting. Way too much time trying to get shallow needs met through shallow means.   But at the coffee shop today (where I also cried, for a different reason), I didn't see a single person I really found attractive. I didn't know them. I didn't really want to know them. My only real interaction was with a girl who has downs syndrome and said "hello neighbor" to everyone. She was sweet. I thought it was interesting that I could stare at a whole room full of people and not find a single one attractive. It made me wonder if there was someone wrong with me, or a validation that I really haven't had a crush on anyone new for a while. 

Life is harder that way...  The receptionist at the tax agency was very nice. I could have tried to flirt. but... meh. 

I tried to pay my taxes today and did it wrong. I got a little scared that I might have screwed things up but I think I can fix it tomorrow or Monday.  I got a little overwhelmed that I wouldn't be able to save enough for taxes... apparently if you don't pay 90% of your expected amount, you can be fined. I was fined already once... and I don't want that to be a habit... but it took me a while to realize that I think I can make it work for my budget, I just have to get in the habit. I am really not making much after all my expenses. It kind of made me feeling like I was doing something wrong. 

Then I went to the coffee shop and read a book. And it felt good for awhile, but then my step mom texted everyone about my dad's birthday, and instead of feeling the normal 'ok, i guess its a responsibility' I got angry, and kind of scared. It felt like another thing that weighed me down.  After reading a bunch in my book, I picked up two zines on the newspaper rack nearby, and read poems and stories and pictures from people who were driving/observing/reporting ice crap all these months. It was a beautiful little zine (two volumes), creative, inspired, funny, incredibly sad, moving, etc.... it made me cry. And it made me feel more angry at my dad and step mom. Where is the apology for defending the people who attacked my neighbors? My Dad texted tonight, and I don't want to respond. I'm sad, and angry. 

I went out to dinner with my mom last night. We talked about my siblings... talked about life... talked about how the state of the world is so ugly, that you run out of things to say. I want to ask her for advice. I want to ask her how to navigate this world. I want to know cheats and shortcuts, even if I don't take them. I want her to tell me that there is a path forward. 

At some point, it kind of feels like my relationship with my mom changed a little. She told me she believed in me and that I could work it out... so I stopped going to her every time I had a big deal problem... waited until it came up naturally. 

I guess I am feeling a little alone in things.   People text. I don't respond. People are reaching, suggesting, supporting, and I don't follow up.  The main character in Shrinking is so flawed and loveable... but everyone is annoyed with him because he is distant, avoiding, being reactive, consumed in his own stuff. 

Today I got a haircut. Paid 28$ and the moment I got in the car I saw that it was uneven. I was already irritable. A mix of low blood sugar and a thunderstorm. I got home and fixed the hair cut. I shaved this morning... so basically I look like a little white boy. But it makes me wonder why I am paying for shit... why I am trying to fit in. Why I am trying so hard to keep up with everything, and not really feeling all that loved or rewarded. I feel like I have been letting myself down sooooo much lately. 

Sure maintaining an apartment, and a business, but not exercising... not eating great... my sleep schedule is all over the place. I keep saying I am going to write poems and then I don't want to write. I have given up on guitar. I have maintained spanish. 

I see a friend once a week, and sometimes text with others... but I am not really involved with anything, not engaged for my own sake... doing my job, surviving... but not thriving like it might appear. 

I am lonely, and not feeling great I guess. Maybe some of it is the weather/headaches, but I can feel myself dragging a little with clients. Not really wanting to do my job. I can jumpstart myself into it... but I am not feeling all that good. 

I guess, I don't feel loved?  I don't feel loving? 

Last week my therapist asked me if I was somewhat dissociative. I was... it was a mix of me avoiding my own stuff and being overwhelmed by others. I wasn't grounded in myself. I wasn't centered. 

Wednesday and Friday mornings, I woke up feeling better. On Wednesday I wrote a poem in my head about wearing a slippery winter coat that didn't fit right. How people were poking and prodding and trying to help, but my arm would get caught coming out of the wrong hole, or it would end up backwards, because it wasn't me... I and everyone else was mistaking the coat for me. But me was somewhere underneath as the role/coat slid around me. No wonder I don't feel grounded... I feel suffocated. I feel prodded. I feel like people are grabbing at me. I feel like something is wrong and I can't find my way through it. A little kid caught in their clothes? 

I was thinking about how hard it is to be aligned with yourself. How hard when the president threatens to end the world, when the price of everything is too high, when a worker burns down their work place, or shoots the ceo, because the costs of living are just not tenable given the wages we make. My records show I should be making 8-10k a month, my bank account says... 7? I suppose I should look at that again. 

I haven't felt like going to church. Often times I watch online (like in winter), and then feel like its not that great. I wonder if I need to go in person. Or maybe try somewhere new. 

I know it would be good to do a class or something. I know it would be good to be involved, have a commitment on the calendar. I dunno what I am complaining about... I mean I do. I am living the life of a single person who is very used to that... but doesn't actually prefer being singly. 

E doesn't really reach out. Maybe its for the best.   

So often I get really inspired by like a good tarot reading or something...but nothing happens. 

I almost want more of an excuse for my misery than it is my own fault for not being more involved with folks. Maybe my standards are too high for everything. Maybe I am impossible to live with. 

I dunno. In therapy I was realizing that I feel like my "manager parts" are in charge. Not me... but the parts of me that respond to feeling too vulnerable or too ashamed... I feel like I am going through the motions waiting for someone to shake me awake. But just like other times in my life... I don't really want the people in my life to be the one that reaches out and grabs me. I don't want those relationships to change much... I dunno. 

I could imagine things personally and the world getting a lot worse before it gets better. 

It was funny how much my own stuff seemed like it was fitting for what others were going through this week.  

I think I can maintain. 

But I know this part is very similar to the parts of my clients who are 20-30 years older than me, and wondering ... well if this is it ... why try? 

Yeah... I dunno either sometimes. Henri Nouwen keeps saying that suffering and pain are part of it... that its what we should take to G-d... makes us part of a greater thing. Funny to choose pain and suffering... grace and love by way of pain. 

I dunno... I should probably go to bed. I guess I just wanted to complain a bit. 

Dream

 Just woke up from a dream.

In the dream I was in southern Italy, walking around a small town. I noticed at first that this town had a particular layout, then some familiar spots, and ultimately realized I’d been there before. A market is coming up on the left. There is a church over there. 

The dream actually began with the collapsing of a building. It was unclear if there were survivors. 

Along the way I had different travel companions. At one point it might have been someone I was trying to impress, because I was reading the menu for them and practicing my Italian or Spanish or something. I knew I only wanted chicken and fries (which is much more a Latin America thing).  

At one point my travel companion was very clearly k. We locked up our stuff together at a hostel or bus station, and then later in the dream she left as I continued to wander. It wasn’t until late in the day when I had taken pictures of buildings and art, of churches and the lake, and of people watching, the wedding party, the stylish folks, -and then the sun was setting and I was ready to find a bed or a way out of town - and I realized it was her lock on the locker. I made my way back wondering if I’d even have a backpack to grab… I got more and more anxious. 

When I finally got back to the spot with the lockers people were closing down. It was getting late. I eyed each person suspiciously. I went to the lockers and began opening the ones without locks. Some were empty. Some had small things others had left. And finally in one, I found all of my stuff, but no bag to put it in. 

It made me laugh. I was relieved. After all there was nothing particularly valuable it was just spare clothes and a journal and blah. I stuffed it back in the locker and decided to spend another night in this town I was rediscovering. 

I knew I needed to find a place to stay, and the first obvious idea was to stay at the place with the lockers (which had transformed from a bus station to a hostel). But the staff had already gone home. I wasn’t sure there were beds left, and considered just sleeping on a couch and paying when staff arrived in the morning. 

Another option was to book online, and I was going through the apps trying to connect but my phone kept cutting out right when I was finding the right spots. 

As I was doing this, I eavesdropped on the people around me who were also settling down and sharing about their adventures that day. One girl said she had celebrated Passover and gone to a ritual bath, but it wasn’t clear whether it was for Jewish people or Muslim people. She said it reminded her of her family and she ooozed a feeling of comfort, gratitude, nostalgia… my phone rang and I realized my mom was calling. 

I made the decision to pull away from the girl talking, even though I was intrigued. 

My mom wanted to give me some updates and I figured it was fair to give her mine.  She said something along the lines of -your grandma wants to clean the carpets after the fire. She is nervous that people will see them and think less of her. I remembered there had been a fire. The whole place had collapsed. There was nothing left of the carpet, but I tried to imagine my grandma lifting chunks of the walls to vacuum underneath. My mom threw in a comment that I didn’t quite hear clearly, but seemed to imply so maybe that’s where you get it (anxiety /ocd). 

There was a lull in the convo, so I told her my two big discoveries of the day. 1) I am in a familiar town and enjoying it, even though I didn’t realize and 2) my backpack got stolen in the funniest way possible. 

There was silence again. Ok, well I guess that’s it. Talk to you tomorrow. 

rolling my eyes and wondering how to get out of drama.

 

I keep waking up with that song “The Baton” by Katie Gavin in my head. Maybe it’s the bass and drums at the beginning of the song, a nice hook. But the song reminds me that I am fighting with my Dad and stepmom. So does the calendar on the wall. So does the Benihana and Chipotle gift cards in my wallet. So does my phone, and the AAA membership… and on and on. These are reminders of the fact that my Dad loves me, has invested in my life again and again. Has supported me financially despite always saying he is broke. Has supported my interests throughout my life even when they didn’t quite match with his. And in other cases (like earth day approaching in April) inspired interests in ways I didn’t realize at the time (he used to take us to pick up garbage on earth day/sometimes paired with easter -picking up candy). There are continued reminders in notes, in gifts, in the texts he sends asking me to go for a walk. There are continued reminders also in my own actions… the traits we share, and recently more so than ever in my appearance. I joked with him the last time I saw him, each morning I get to decide which of my uncles I look like today.

My stepmom is an extension of these things. A companion to him that has been present since I was around 6… so 36 years. Someone who cajoles him into things when he is being stubborn, who supports him in his hearing loss, who makes him more social than he might naturally be, and drags him out to try new things against his better judgment. Also, I assume, someone who adds an extra 20 when he is putting the card in the envelope, who adds a second message, who rounds everyone up for all the family meals and makes the home inviting. Someone who cooks all the food (unless he is grilling), and tries to accommodate all the special food needs.

There is also a daily reminder of the conflict. There is the news article that talks about disappeared people, the video of a fight, the song some international pop musician wrote for my city, the daily insults from the president. There are the people on the corner who are still looking out for vehicles. There are the areas of my city that have become memorials. There is an awareness that we are trying to move forward, while discovering the damage done. There are ICE agents in the airport, the joke of the country, but not a joke when they were here trying to intimidate. There are the wars we are starting now, that will only set off another round of migration. There are the families, the clients, my former students who aren’t sure where to get food, or how to pay their bills, or rent.

And there is also the insult to the injustice. The slap in the face that dispels the myth that we are in this together. The reality that my a family member basically said at best “I’m neutral” meaning I am against you and those you care about… the muddying of the waters and playing victim. There is the reality that there is not acknowledgment of the hurt, or anger, or insult, no attempt to apologize for the “difference of opinion,” and the subtle and not so subtle ways that the family dynamic insists that I apologize and make amends for being righteously angry. Justified in my anger. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t wait forever for an apology that won’t come. I can focus on the positives, play nice, and save face, while carrying anger, hurt and defensiveness in my heart. I can start another argument, and leave in a huff or be vile. I can avoid. I can walk away from the love, because maybe I decide that it comes at too high a price… is love without trust, love without acknowledgment love?

I can look at my own insults, the ways I have hurt and ignored, avoided or gone without acknowledging my faults and my responsibilities… blame rather than be accountable. I have done that. Maybe things will just be left messy.

There is also a part of me that wonders if this opens up to something new, something better. A part of me that can give voice to my pain, and say its justified that I show up for myself rather than downplay my feelings for the sake of relationship. Maybe this is me growing up, and naming that blood and custom, don’t make for a satisfactory relationship if you can’t trust that person has your back. Maybe I need to keep my distance to let them know that it was hurtful… because my Dad would sweep it under the rug for peace, just as he taught me to do, just as I have chosen to do countless times.

Even my Mom the other day, kind of said... well you're going to have to let it go to some extent, if you choose to have a relationship with him. Which she knew I would. She doesn't want me to be angry and avoidant... but I don't think she understood just how angry I still am. 

I find it interesting because there are so many parallels to my relationship with E. Times of being hurt and not standing up for myself. Times of feeling like I should bend over backwards to meet her needs because I was capable of doing so. I wonder, often, why if I care about her so much, I am not invested the way I was. Why when I saw her the other night, I didn’t feel relief fully. And I think the truth is that, I got burned, and learned to stop hustling to try to make someone else feel loved at the expense of myself.

Or at least that is what I am hoping to learn.

But I don’t know what to do differently. I still feel responsible.

The baton has been passed unconsciously, and I am trying to do my part in breaking the cycle rather than reinforcing it, to do my part which is more than the previous owners could do. To carry forward means that the person who passed it will fall behind, "I can't come where you are going."  

It's really bitter, sad, disappointing. I am reminded of my Grandpa's shortcomings and how I wanted more wisdom from him. 

I think if I had children -which I still hope to one day. I would have more understanding of how hard it is to grow up, when you don't have any sleep, and you're stressed and these little being need everything from you, and you have to acknowledge you don't have it... that on some level there is just a reality to accept. 

But on another level... there is something that just kills me about a parent playing victim. A friend of mine said that his mom was still wondering why everyone was mad at her, when she was the one pushing them away and betraying their trust... and he was just blunt about it... he told her that it was her decisions and she could choose differently, but I dunno if she got it.   That's kind of where I am with my stepmom... she makes excuses and blames others. Perhaps on some level she is holding stuff for others too... maybe there are secrets that she hasn't let out. But instead of taking responsibility for her stuff and letting others do the same, she plays victim and it becomes drama. 

I am so sick of drama. And I am hooked in it again, playing my role instead of just being me. 

Tuesday

 Last night I struggled to sleep. It was a mixture of having tea at dinner and too much soy sauce (Benihana at MOA). My feet were swollen and I was uncomfortable. Not in pain, but just enough discomfort that it was hard to fully drift off. I wasn't very present though. My mind was not cogent enough to put together any beautiful or creative thoughts, no problem solving, just a nagging. 

When I finally got to sleep, I woke up frequently. So I am tired. 

This morning I had a dream I remembered. In the dream I was going around to different places, at first it felt like I was traveling and adventuring. Eventually it felt more like I was grabbing things from different stores, more like running errands. And then I found myself running late for something. 

It turns out it was a math test. I felt nervous. Upon getting to my seat, I found out that the computer/calculators they were supposed to have given us for the test weren't working. The teacher shrugged and basically said, "do it without them." I felt overwhelmed, felt like there was no possible way for me to pass the test. I barely understood the material with a calculator... I'd been hoping to guess the random right buttons to press and muscle my way through the test to a passing grade... and now. I wanted to give up. I wanted to protest. I wanted to say this isn't fair, and it's not my fault. I wanted to say, fine, I will fail your test and see you next year (like I did in high school).  

I grabbed a paper copy of the test and walked back to my seat. Someone had placed two photo/journal albums at my desk. They were from former students of mine. They were not necessarily about me or the time I spent with them, but collections saying "thank you, we did ok... look at all that we have accomplished because you cared about us." I paged through the journals and letters and poems, not reading them but just enjoying how much thought and effort they had put into it. I looked at the photos, barely recognizing any of these people as they aged into their adulthood. But regardless. I felt fulfilled. I felt proud. I felt like my life had mattered regardless of whether I pass the math test. I couldn't have cared less. 

When I woke up... I still felt some of that residual feeling of accomplishment. Of feeling like someone thought I mattered, that I had contributed, not because I mattered specifically, but because they had felt like they mattered and could accomplish great things. It was just them saying hi, back and back and back. 

I went to Benihana at the Mall of America last night with E. It was good food, we walked the mall for 30 minutes or whatever.... caught up with how the last few months had been going. It felt good, and yet not fully connecting. Felt like there was stuff not being said. She complimented my hair a couple of times. I felt -not necessarily distant, but not exactly comfortable either. There was a distance... I guess thats all I can say. I am not sure what it means, or where it will go. But it felt both good to reconnect, and odd... like maybe we were entering a new chapter in which our spheres dont overlap as much. 

On Sunday I went to a palm sunday protest with my Mom and step Dad. I liked it, but also felt a little like... "our these my people?"  just a bunch of well meaning white folks walking through frog town waving palms. 

Saturday was No Kings, and dinner with Illy. 

I liked the event, but also felt some pangs of tremendous sadness and kind of a frustration with the whole thing.  Something like 3700 people were kidnapped from Minneapolis, and we are celebrating it like its over. Like the good white people stood up and now everyone can relax and be proud of themselves. Its not over. Its still impacting thousands... what are we celebrating? 

I wanted to write something more substantial... want to write about my hope or my desire or the changes I am going to make... but I feel kind of braindead. I guess the shortened version is that it feels like something big will change soon. Maybe its someone dying. Maybe its someone choosing to live differently. I dunno... I just feel like it wont stay this way ... and I won't necessarily have to force my own hand. Maybe that is like wishful thinking... but it feels like things are shifting, Spring is in the air? or something. I am not sure if it will be better or worse. 

Sunday Spring?

Yesterday it was like 70 degrees out and sunny. Minnesotans were out in their t shirts if that... shorts and dresses. The world seemed full of possibility, opportunity, brightness, choice and action. 

A friend and I got dinner, walking to the University and back, talking about what could come next. 

My friend remarked that I had a nice adult place. It made me feel good to think that someone might like it. I think I am slowly coming to the conclusion that I will be spending another year here. Yesterday I did some organizing. It would be easy enough to move again, but if I move, I want to know what I am moving for... I moved here to be closer to my office. I can't move my office until November at the earliest... so if that's the case. I think it would make sense to stay here for another year even if its really expensive. But who knows what could happen in the next 6 months. The news looks scary, and its difficult to hold optimism at a time like this. 

Over night the temperature dropped and cut in half. Its a gray day, and I didn't sleep very well probably because I had too much cajun spice on my seafood boil last night (trying new things at restaurants). I tried to wake up early and just couldn't get myself to face the world. I went back to sleep and woke up an hour or two later, slightly more promising. I watched some youtube and stared at a stack of Benihana gift cards I need to use by the end of the week. Feeling bad about my Dad giving me these gifts and then me wanting to pull away from him. Wondering who I could drag to Benihana on short notice, considering E. 

I tried to sit through online church and just found that it did not resonate, though they did sing a flight of the conchords song. For some reason church feels less the place I want to be lately. Maybe because E started going with me, and then it felt like a new grief when we weren't. Throughout the service I was thinking about her, despite the tarot reader (prior to the service) saying that a divine counterpart would soon enter the scene. Reciprocal, sturdy, grounded, curious, partnership. Fated... hopeful? I nodded along to the tarot reader saying "I know, thats what I've been asking for this whole time..." almost a little snarky. 

After I decided to end church early, I went and got chipotle with a gift card my dad gave me. Again, feeling complications... on the drive out to Roseville I thought about times with E, about making sure she got food, about taking care of her. Feeling sad about not having anyone to love, and not knowing what's next. I keep wondering why I am not reaching out, and keep reminding myself its ok if she pulls back. It's probably for the better for both of us in the long run. Its a weird feeling, to miss someone and to want them to pursue their life.  

I wish I was feeling more promise today, like yesterday when the world was full of potential. Today feels like preparation for a work week ahead. It feels like a cold and isolated Sunday. The kind it would be ideal to cozy up with a partner. But instead, I'll focus on what I have to do next. 

Spanish. That's what I have to do next. 

Then reading. 

Then work or exercise.

Then the other.

Check off the daily list. 

Make yourself dinner. 

Go to bed at a reasonable hour. 

Start the work week. 

Repeat. 

Saturday

 On Thursday my therapist and I concluded that I was am having an aversion to seeing my Dad because it felt yucky still. Not just anger, but some level of disgust. I wrestled with that for a few days, and wanting not to live into it, went for a walk with my Dad this morning. It was mostly good. We talked about business, about family, about politics and economics… toward the end, he asked. “And how are you doing with the fight we had.” 

I got quiet, measured my words, checked in with myself and said “I’m still angry.” He started saying something about how he had hoped we could work towards a solution. I said yeah, me too but I’m still angry and I’m not sure what that is yet. He asked for more clarification where is the anger coming from.  At some point, early in the conversation he said something along the lines of, I know you’re a resilient person and have gotten through a lot, so I assume you can get through this too. As he was saying it I was internally shaking my head, this is the manipulation, this is where he asks me to get over it, and come back into the fold. 

I told him my anger for him and ny anger towards my step mom are different. He said he didn’t see how their recent stuff (this fight) was that different, and I said, with you I know your stuff, I see it in myself, but these values even when I’m frustrated with them aren’t the deal breaker… I see the manipulation, I use that kind of manipulation… I know where it’s coming from. 

With my stepmom, I can’t. I don’t fundamentally trust or respect the stuff underneath. I didn’t necessarily say it that way, but I implied that I couldn’t trust or reconcile with that aspect. He tried to defend her, he said something along the lines of… well your anger- she felt attacked. I said, see that’s what I mean, she is the victim. She makes herself the victim every time,  even when she isn’t. He defended her again. Implying that I was overstating the situation. A different experience and perspective not “the victim.” I said she made herself the victim in the argument, saying that her fear was equal to the fears of people who are literally fighting for their lives, he tried to clarify, she was saying she was anxious that she might get in a fight with someone and was intimidated…. I said see that’s what I mean. Other people are fighting for their lives, fighting for their neighbors and she is making it about her anxiety. She is anxious, we’re all anxious… who is responsible? Who is to blame the for that? She implied the protesters were just as responsible…

I said, you’re literally making my point again. This is why I can’t be around her right now. 

He said she wasn’t saying the other side was right… (though she was during the original argument), I said she basically told me that if there was a war, we were on different sides. I don’t want to engage with someone like that. 

We were talking about whether there is room to have family time, to celebrate birthdays. I said, I don’t believe I can keep from being angry, I don’t want to show up and feel mixed feelings like I’m lying. He said that a birthday party is a place to put those feelings aside. I said people I care about are still being impacted everyday, I can’t just set it aside and pretend. 

It was the exact thing I worried about. It was my dad ignoring all the things I’d said three weeks ago, and saying… well once you’re done being angry come hang out again, implying that no change on their part needed to occur to make things right. It was my dad playing peacemaker and manipulator, and expecting me to do the same, when his wife never has…and it made me angry again. 

I literally told him this is what happens everytime I get in a fight with her, you come over and say… well she didn’t mean it, and she’s hurting… can’t you just overcome your own shit for the sake of the family? I spent an hour three weeks ago telling him examples of that from age 5 or 6 on… and that I didn’t want to do that anymore. But he did it again. This is why I am averse… 

I told him what would happen, told him I wasn’t willing to, and he asked me to anyway. Same story. I said no. 

mid afternoon blog

 

3/19/26

I know that it’s a combo of not sleeping well, and probably not eating enough, and then therapy too, but its felt heavy all day because of therapy.

This morning, I processed some stuff regarding a friend’s death, and the parallels with my dad, and past exes, and blah blah blah.

I cried a lot. I was basically crying on the way in, but also mad at myself.

I don’t feel like it got out of my body, but I certainly shared more than I’ve shared in a long time. Shared about the experience without holding back. Shared about feelings I have that I don’t like to address. Shared about still feeling some of them, all these years later. I felt witnessed… and that was incredibly helpful.

One of the surprising parallels was a feeling of disgust and aversion.

My therapist said we probably need to return to that one, and the yucky feelings kept coming to my throat and my stomach. I felt nauseous when I left… I honestly kind of worried I’d throw up. At my car, I did some very intentional deep breathing of the fresh air. It was better. But this whole notion that I might have to explore these feelings -not just anger, and sadness and hurt, but disgust? Shame? Aversion? Yuck.

I didn’t make that connection in the session… that disgust and shame are related… I made that connection after. That maybe I don’t let myself feel disgust at people (yes to behaviors or foods, or whatever) because I don’t want people to be disgusted with me, that’s a source of my shame after all. I don’t want people to feel less than… though I know that they do. Maybe people have told me I am judgy after all.

What does it mean to go back and let the judgment sink in, to be disgusted by people’s behavior enough that you acknowledge -I am sick of you! But then also know that it wont stay that way. Know that it will be temporary. 

Why am I avoiding my Dad?  Because I don’t want the mixed feelings and the disgust.

Why did I avoid ------? Because I didn’t want the mixed feelings and the disgust.

Why ------? Same… why --------Same… why… why do I let go of people… because I start to feel resentment, but also disgust… I don’t like the way this feels. I don’t like what it brings up in me (judgment/resentment/ego) I can’t handle the overwhelm of all these feelings… it makes me sick to my stomach, I have to run to the bathroom or get out of the room. I can’t.

So maybe there is a part of me today wrestling with this mask I’ve been wearing. That actually I do feel these feelings quite a bit, and put them on hold, and push them away, and don’t acknowledge them… until I am overwhelmed. Maybe I was disgusted with E when she pushed me away. Maybe I was disgusted with her for lying to me, or manipulating, or playing victim, or getting stuck. Maybe it was disgust that she would be so helpless. Maybe I was disgusted with her drug use and alcohol use. Maybe I was turned off… by that.

With K it became like that… I saw the impacts and it felt like there wasn’t a person in front of me, just a lump that can’t think or feel or name anything. A stubborn child who can’t help themselves, and is clingy, and needy, and making it my fault. B when she couldn’t eat, or would pick apart her skin. A when she was cutting, and doing the very opposite of what she should, J when she was depressed and couldn’t make decisions. Obviously it was the same with M, but I gave myself permission to be angry eventually... but was it was disgust that made me feel so out of control?  

So what does that mean?   If I can love someone and feel disgusted by them… I rejected myself for soooooo long.   I thought I was moving into this area of life where I could understand, and be at peace with everyone and their stuff. But it turns out I was just trying to avoid a stomach ache. A heart ache. Another headache.

I made decisions I don’t feel good about when I was operating out of disgust, not just resentment. It made me feel better than, like I could cut someone loose… and it would be their own damn fault instead of mine… and I would feel relief, and shame and guilt… but at least I wouldn’t be actively harmed.

Its funny how if I look at which words I get triggered by the most, disgust would be up there. G being disgusted with A… A client being disgusted with his sister. I balk at the word. Disgust for stuff, disgust for systems, disgust for germs… but people? That would be dehumanizing. And I guess it is. I guess that is exactly why I have tried to push it away, to downplay it… I am disgusted means I can’t be in your presence…and so I remove myself. It means I have to wash my hands (of your demolition)… its odd that phrasing comes to me right now when I am mostly talking about people who in some way were actively harming themselves.  With all these people... each of these moments was a feeling of “you aren’t taking care of the person I want to love, and I can’t do it for you… so fuck you for twisting me into a pretzel.”   Brene Brown writes about disgust that it protects us from the contamination of the soul…   

But disgust is what leads to dehumanization. Dehumanization can lead to hurting one another… dehumanization is the precursor to war, to ethnic cleansing, to genocide. Disgust is the root to violence without remorse… right?  It became taboo for me, and I didn’t realize it… and now, to acknowledge yuck… I am full of it.

Again it makes me sick to my stomach.