Those who are truly close to me understand that there are two parts of my personality that are fairly overwhelming. One is that I'm intense. I'm hyper and type A and I clench my toes and my hands throughout the day. I'm also just an intense person to deal with. My BFF, K, put it quite nicely to a mutual friend saying "all things Cat are intense" meaning not just one thing or one circumstance, all things. And that is true. I've realized that over the past few years and I even warn people about it. When I have a direction from someone to get something done I want it done right. this. fucking. minute. I will track you down in the office to find out the answer, even if it can wait a few days. If I'm tasked with putting together a lunch or a meeting, I will not stop freaking out about the details until everyone has come and gone. It's just how I am, for better or (more likely) for worse.
The other aspect of my personality is that I tend to live in fast forward. This is the proverbial blessing and curse, all in one. I feel the pain and grief of things incredibly deeply and quickly and it consumes me; but I also move through it quickly and bounce back. I think it is a coping mechanism from when I was smaller and things went to hell. But if you decide to friend me in the real world, you'll find that we'll either become close or realize we aren't going to be friends quite quickly because I, myself, become consuming. We'll start talking about all sorts of things and before you know it, you'll begin asking "how could we have become such good friends so quickly?" It's because that is how I work and that is all I know. My whole life I've had people, upon first meeting me, say "I can't believe I'm telling you this."
It's an interesting way to live, I suppose. I am very briefly in the moment and, as on Sunday, I'll think to myself "so this is what it feels like." I'll try to hang onto the sensation and the emotion so that I can burn it into my memory because I know my subconscious is already working to move past it. On Monday I was an utter wreck, crying at work and in the car and when I went to bed. The next day, whilst I had the puffy eyes and clogged feeling of having wept, I was perfectly capable of functioning and going about the things that had to be done. I felt the emotions, the sadness, the grief, but it wasn't consuming me like the wildfire it had been. I'll never forget how I felt when J and I realized it was over, but I'll never be able to describe it with the poetic language that the great authors do because I was unable to savor it.
You can see these things about me if you stroll through my archives. One moment I'm stressing out every day because I don't know if I've gotten a job. All of a sudden I'm bitching about the job and drawing pictures. Or I'm scared shitless about an impending answer to what is going on with my health, the next I'm laughing and joking about something inconsequential. These past few days I've been writing about my breakup, the breakup, and just now, walking home from the store I thought about writing about how three cars in a row all had one headlight out.
It isn't that I'm racing to get past my feelings for J. Those will be with me for the rest of my life. But I want to get past the bad and get to the next place, where things are good because we are friends and happy because we don't have the weight and burden of the responsibility that comes with being in a romantic relationship. I think J really felt he had to take care of me and watch out for me because of the stupid shit I do, like get drunk in public or make an ass out of myself or stay up late or eat like a child. And I felt like I had to take care of and watch over him as well. I'm not going to say why because for one, I recently found out that he sometimes reads this and for two, the same reason I never say anything too personal; it may have happened with me but it is personal to him and it is not for me to lay him bare for all the world to see. When it is between me and J, it is more his business than mine. It is only right that way. And I love and respect him too much to ever do such a thing.
It isn't that black and white of course. It took years for me to come to terms with one of my illnesses, probably in part due to the type of illness. And I will most likely still have my moments with the MS. And I certainly did not just start having these feelings about J. K can attest to that because she's the one person I really spoke to in real time. She is also the only person who never asked, when I said it was over, "are you sure?" because she knew, because she'd been there. If I were lazy or didn't know her better, I would say it was because she's been here. But she hasn't because her situation was different, necessarily. And she's known me for nearly four years. She is also the only person I did not have to tell "he's a good guy, don't hate him" when we first separated, because she knew. She knew how much I love him and admire him and she knew that it was not some unforgivable thing that had happened.
Because K and I became friends without any external force. What do I mean by that? Firefly is my best friend in DE and we first met when I dated a guy and ended up semi-homeless. I was 19 and she served as a surrogate mother before we became girlfriend. With K, it was just, well, we were friends. She was going through something, but it was the end of it, not the beginning. So K knows me and she is safe and I can trust her. She can attest to everything I've said because she's been along for the ride. Thank god for that. I don't know how I could deal with it if not for her. Because she knows that I've been unhappy for a long time. She knows that I don't just run hot and cold but that I do, actually, honestly, have feelings and that I sit with them for ages. It's just the burning that takes hold of me momentarily and then passes.
The best part about this aspect of me is that I get through the intensive pain quickly. The worst is that I don't get to hold on to bliss for long and I never get excited about anything. Because getting excited ruins it and puts it in peril. I think I've said it before, that the last time I got excited about something was 14 years ago when I went to try and get my license. I failed. Since then, I could never get excited about anything about because it would fall through. Going to England? Couldn't be excited till I got there. Traveling anywhere? Not till I get there. The prospect of a new job or promotion? Not till I get the word from human resources. Even a good weekend that is promised? Not until it begins.
But I'll take it. I have to as I have no choice. And if it will protect me and help me continue putting one foot in front of the other as I continue to grieve for what I've lost, for what I've caused, I'll fucking take it.
The other aspect of my personality is that I tend to live in fast forward. This is the proverbial blessing and curse, all in one. I feel the pain and grief of things incredibly deeply and quickly and it consumes me; but I also move through it quickly and bounce back. I think it is a coping mechanism from when I was smaller and things went to hell. But if you decide to friend me in the real world, you'll find that we'll either become close or realize we aren't going to be friends quite quickly because I, myself, become consuming. We'll start talking about all sorts of things and before you know it, you'll begin asking "how could we have become such good friends so quickly?" It's because that is how I work and that is all I know. My whole life I've had people, upon first meeting me, say "I can't believe I'm telling you this."
It's an interesting way to live, I suppose. I am very briefly in the moment and, as on Sunday, I'll think to myself "so this is what it feels like." I'll try to hang onto the sensation and the emotion so that I can burn it into my memory because I know my subconscious is already working to move past it. On Monday I was an utter wreck, crying at work and in the car and when I went to bed. The next day, whilst I had the puffy eyes and clogged feeling of having wept, I was perfectly capable of functioning and going about the things that had to be done. I felt the emotions, the sadness, the grief, but it wasn't consuming me like the wildfire it had been. I'll never forget how I felt when J and I realized it was over, but I'll never be able to describe it with the poetic language that the great authors do because I was unable to savor it.
You can see these things about me if you stroll through my archives. One moment I'm stressing out every day because I don't know if I've gotten a job. All of a sudden I'm bitching about the job and drawing pictures. Or I'm scared shitless about an impending answer to what is going on with my health, the next I'm laughing and joking about something inconsequential. These past few days I've been writing about my breakup, the breakup, and just now, walking home from the store I thought about writing about how three cars in a row all had one headlight out.
It isn't that I'm racing to get past my feelings for J. Those will be with me for the rest of my life. But I want to get past the bad and get to the next place, where things are good because we are friends and happy because we don't have the weight and burden of the responsibility that comes with being in a romantic relationship. I think J really felt he had to take care of me and watch out for me because of the stupid shit I do, like get drunk in public or make an ass out of myself or stay up late or eat like a child. And I felt like I had to take care of and watch over him as well. I'm not going to say why because for one, I recently found out that he sometimes reads this and for two, the same reason I never say anything too personal; it may have happened with me but it is personal to him and it is not for me to lay him bare for all the world to see. When it is between me and J, it is more his business than mine. It is only right that way. And I love and respect him too much to ever do such a thing.
It isn't that black and white of course. It took years for me to come to terms with one of my illnesses, probably in part due to the type of illness. And I will most likely still have my moments with the MS. And I certainly did not just start having these feelings about J. K can attest to that because she's the one person I really spoke to in real time. She is also the only person who never asked, when I said it was over, "are you sure?" because she knew, because she'd been there. If I were lazy or didn't know her better, I would say it was because she's been here. But she hasn't because her situation was different, necessarily. And she's known me for nearly four years. She is also the only person I did not have to tell "he's a good guy, don't hate him" when we first separated, because she knew. She knew how much I love him and admire him and she knew that it was not some unforgivable thing that had happened.
Because K and I became friends without any external force. What do I mean by that? Firefly is my best friend in DE and we first met when I dated a guy and ended up semi-homeless. I was 19 and she served as a surrogate mother before we became girlfriend. With K, it was just, well, we were friends. She was going through something, but it was the end of it, not the beginning. So K knows me and she is safe and I can trust her. She can attest to everything I've said because she's been along for the ride. Thank god for that. I don't know how I could deal with it if not for her. Because she knows that I've been unhappy for a long time. She knows that I don't just run hot and cold but that I do, actually, honestly, have feelings and that I sit with them for ages. It's just the burning that takes hold of me momentarily and then passes.
The best part about this aspect of me is that I get through the intensive pain quickly. The worst is that I don't get to hold on to bliss for long and I never get excited about anything. Because getting excited ruins it and puts it in peril. I think I've said it before, that the last time I got excited about something was 14 years ago when I went to try and get my license. I failed. Since then, I could never get excited about anything about because it would fall through. Going to England? Couldn't be excited till I got there. Traveling anywhere? Not till I get there. The prospect of a new job or promotion? Not till I get the word from human resources. Even a good weekend that is promised? Not until it begins.
But I'll take it. I have to as I have no choice. And if it will protect me and help me continue putting one foot in front of the other as I continue to grieve for what I've lost, for what I've caused, I'll fucking take it.
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