The advantages of independence

Yesterday I posted this haiku to Facebook:

Stood up once again,

I vow: Give no more chances;

And then my ex calls.

It was an interesting concatenation of events.  I'd had a pleasant and soothing evening with G:  he cooked a low-carb meal (stuffed cabbage soup, yummmmm) and we watched Catching Fire on Amazon. (Okay, so that was not soothing.  Wow, Katniss does a lot of screaming.) The next morning I met up with M at The Source for coffee and chat, followed by her introduction to the Intentional Focused Mediation (AKA drumming) which I have been attending on last Sundays (see previous blog post.)  I had planned to stop by to see S (at his request) afterwards.  However, on my way to M's house,  he texted that he'd made other plans with people who were more important to him, but I was totally welcome to join them (tossing me the bone after standing me up.)  I said, never mind, I'll go to Los Golondrinas for the Fiber Arts Festival.  Then I felt a rush of anger and texted, "so, I guess there's no point in making plans with you,"  and he got all back-pedally and reproachful, "I'm trying to open a dialog can't you meet me halfway?" and offered me the further bone of lunch before they took off, and maybe they'd just go tomorrow instead.  He wanted to see me, he said.

I went into meditation, mollified for the nonce.  There were only 3 of us (and M, who meditated sans drum), and I decided that my intention was to let go of anger and to bring more focus.  The latter is my usual intention:  I still feel scattered and my thoughts still go to defaults that derail me from growing.  It's probably my life-long work, to move past the thoughts and behaviors that are not in my best interests.

In the past few sessions, I have mainly provided underpinning for other people;  I do find myself immersed in the sound, but my observing mind is looking at how the sounds change with the energies that other people bring.  This session was less cerebral.  I found myself pounding out the beat, loudly and intensely, and I could feel the anger that I had thought resolved, growing with each stroke.  I was carrying on a mental conversation with S, and then I became aware of the deep hurt, and tears started leaking.  

They say anger is a secondary emotion, and I got through to the primary one.

S has been making a practise of snubbing me since December.  I had planned to return his house key and write the friendship off:  clearly he didn't know how to maintain a friendship after intimacy was past.  But he called to discuss what had happened, and it seemed that we both understood how to proceed:  he wants serendipity, but he needs to let me know I matter. I hadn't seen him since February, and I said  it was up to him to initiate a get-together.  So, he did, and then he snubbed me again. AND he put it back on me, saying that I hadn't actually verified that I was coming by. 

I don't know why he is being contradictory with words and actions, but I do know it's not working for me.  I need to stop expecting the words to actually mean something, and to pay attention to how the actions affect me.  I talked with M after the drumming, and she shared a memory of doing just the same thing to some friends of hers:  they would make plans, something better would come up, and she would suggest they join in the new plans.  The underlying reality was that she just didn't want to see those friends, but she felt like she had to offer them a place in return for standing them up.  Yes, that's just what it felt like.  Clearly, S does not care that it's been months since we got together;  his script is that he cares about me, but the reality is that he doesn't really want to see me.

In some ways, T's method of abruptly dropping the friendship is preferable.  At least there is no contradiction to puzzle through, and the hurt is clear and up front.

M said, why don't you focus on the new friends who love you and appreciate you?  V said, the next time you feel tempted to couple up, remember the advantages of independence.  And they are both right.  So, I texted that I was going to the Fiber Arts Festival, I missed him but didn't want to be a problem, and I was sure we would catch up some time.  He texted back, sounds good.  I could FEEL the relief in that short message:  I'm off the hook, he's thinking, I'm not the one who ultimately canceled, I don't need to feel guilty. 

Yeah, whatever.

The festival was not that enthralling, but I really enjoyed walking around the living history museum that is Los Golondrinas.  Now I know where to go when I miss green grass and the sound of running water.

I was still feeling a little raw, though.  And, when I got back to the car, I checked my phone and found the e-mail from D, asking me to Skype with him.  It seems that life has a way of hitting you in the solar plexus and then, as you're doubling up, hitting your head back.  The real question is, why did I agree?

He's doing better, fiscally, and that is improving his mood.  I'm glad for him, and I'm actually glad I talked with him.  The blaming attitude is still in evidence, and I don't feel the yearning for the lost relationship when that reality is in my face.  So, it's actually helpful to talk with him.  But I still curled up in a ball and cried afterwards.

Why do I keep connecting with these people?  Why do I court hurt?  Why do I say yes when they say please?

I'm learning how to enjoy my independence.  The process is opening up new abilities.  However, it seems that I cannot put my own wishes and needs first, yet.  I tried, after leaving D, and S said that one of the things he liked about me was that I was clear about my needs. But, then, that was the very thing he became repelled by:  he saw my clear statement of needs as pressure.  And I, rightfully, saw his response as rejection.  So, I find it difficult to continue to insist on what is best for me.

And,  knowing the pain of rejections, I find it difficult to reject in turn.  I think the reason I respond when D or S ask for my attention is that I can't stop caring.  And I believe they care too.  But, I also can't stop being hurt by them.  The reality is that some relationships are toxic.  Some start out being healing and helpful and then turn toxic.  I can appreciate them:  they all are layers to my life and paths to further relationships.  They all have a reason for being there, even if I'm damned if I can figure out what that reason might be.

Perhaps the reason is to teach me the difference between caring for others and caring for myself.