A long time ago I both gave and recieved affection freely. I crawled up onto the laps of my family, I hugged near-perfect strangers. Then, like lightning, I changed: I went from open to reserved in less time than it takes to explain it. I shut myself away, I maintained a distance from those around me.For a time in college, I managed to abandon that distance. i lived in everyone's pockets, I was a cuddleslut, I was so invincible, so invulnerable, so needy and greedy for what i'd denied myself for so many years.
The bad time came as they always do, and I lived vanquished for over a year. The surface was stripped away, all of my defenses dismantled one by one. What I thought was honesty turned out to be nothing more than vulnerability.
And now, the trust in my own boundraies that i've built is gone. I take a long time to warm up physically to people now, especially men. I feel a chill when someone reaches for me, a skittish, nervy impulse towards flight. I don't feel comfortable in my own skin, the bravado I used to feel has been replaced by wariness. My time spent shieldless has changed that in me, profoundly.
This is where I begin again, in the knowledge that pain is possible. It disturbs me but I can't seem to change it by force of will. I am expecting every open hand to hide a razor blade and i don't know how to forget the times when it has, or be able to trust that each person who cares for me is not harboring a secret hatred.
The past few weeks have been rough, and I keep thinking that this would be easier if I had someone I was involved with, who would be there for me in the ways my friends can't because they, after all, have their own lives. And on the heels of that thought comes memories of demands and accusations, and I think "But it wouldn't be fair of me to need help."
And i honestly don't know if that's right. Is it unfair to someone else to say, "i'm having a hard time and I need support?" There have to be relationships that are not exchanges or barter agreements.
And I remember this summer and i remember that as long as i don't think everything to death, i'll likely be quite all right. But I am overextended and exhausted, and in this state all i can do is think.
And in the meantime, everything moves on. ZC is here for the week and I'm enjoying having him around; doing the tourist thing is a distraction, a much-needed one.I pointed out the Aurora Bridge from the hill near my house to him. I tried to tell him that i love and hate the thing all at the same time, that it raises all of these visceral emotions in me, and suddenly I thought this is pointless. A bridge is not a threat but a barrier or an enabler. I wondered what the bridge had ever done to me, and the answer was, of course, nothing; I've not even crossed it more than a few times. But still it looks larger than any other feature of this landscape, and i've lived in its shadow for two and a half years.
It provokes me, it is a symbol of everything i love and hate about this town, it is an undeniable reality and it doesn't even go away on cloudy days.
There are no conclusions here. Just--were I to jump, it's that bridge i would do it from.
I'm not going to.
But I know where i'd go if I were.
outside: little spiders
doing: stretching wings
link: pow!
