February is for Chumps

it happened on the first day of the month. it happened at work. i was ringing someone up, and looking for an envelope to put their new "Starbucks Card" in. we now have lots of Christmas envelopes that were delivered late. its all right though, they're pretty. but the customer had chosen one of our "hearts! stars! deer! cupids! red! pink! love! whee!" cards, and i actually managed to find a pack of our valentine's day envelopes. and i suddenly remembered.

i fucking hate valentine's day.

i totally have to start swilling my haterade. big time. because i only have a week and a half to fully express just how much i really dislike valentine's day.

and i would like a show of hands by those of you who are actually surprised that i hate this particular craptacular "holiday." hmm. no hands. good. i like when the audience starts getting a sense of who they're dealing with. you all get to live until tomorrow. have fun with that.

the groundhog saw his shadow, which means six more weeks of winter, or, that bill murray and andie macdowell will really hook up for good and break the curse.

my hair is growing out. i'm starting to clip the front strands to the side of my head so they don't explode out into the faces of those i talk to. the clip has gotten a wide range of reactions from co-workers. it also made me burst out laughing because i realized it would be really funny (to me...) to tell everyone, "you know, i've just been fooling you all up until now. i'm actually wearing the clip because i'm the world's ugliest twelve year old girl." its that kind of clip. and truly, if i were a twelve year old girl, offing me would be a mercy killing. twelve year old girls should never look like me; starting with the beard, passing by way of my full six feet and two inches to my size eleven and a half feet, with a quick stop-off at my junk.

junk.

so i've been talking to this guy who lives in houston. and its nice, because i really sort of don't care what he thinks of me. which is liberating. usually, i end up attracted to people who make me so desperate to win their approval that i stutter, fall all over myself, and end up looking exactly like the nervous wreck that i am. this guy, i just talk to. i say horrible things to him. they're all true, these things, but they're horrible. i tell him i like talking to him because he can actually take care of the whole conversation by himself, and i can just kick back and listen. i tell him his accent sort of bothers me. (texas, born and bred, this one) i make my complete ambivalence known.

and he's just fine with it all. and not in the creepy "i like the abuse" way, or the "i like you so much i'll put up with the abuse" way. he just doesn't care what i say, and thinks that i'm only a pretend mean person. that i only say the things i say to try and keep myself safe from people. which a) means he's more perceptive than i've given him credit for, and that leads to b) i might have to destroy him.

but really, the key sentence in the above paragraphs is "i make my complete ambivalence known."

its accurate.

i feel very, very, VERY ambivalent about the whole damn thing. i don't know what i think about him. i don't know how i feel about him. i don't care what he thinks of me, and i give him rough treatment and scathing honesty. as revenge for telling him some personal details about me (nothing dangerous or compromising, you pervs. and he asked, that's why i told him. he asked me to "tell [him] things about [me].") i acted especially callous and aloof the next time we talked, to try and force some distance between us. it didn't really work. he knows what i'm doing, and it amuses him. which is in truth, much much better than someone not seeing what i'm doing, being hurt by my actions, and asking me honestly what's going on and did they do something wrong. i hate those people. i hate them like i hate fat ugly racists.

so anyway, beyond the question of what to do about this houston gentleman (who expects no sex, nor does he actually expect us to meet in real life any time in the near future) lies the greater issue here exposed. i live in extreme, out and out bowel-clenching fear of intimacy. i look upon mutual affection the way most people look upon a hidden nest of cockroaches that they've just pulled the plaster away from and are staring clear in the face. i think feelings are warm and moist and squishy and squelchy, like oozy pond scum that you can't brush off; it just clings to your hand, and then its on your clothes, and soon, you're covered in it.

the threat of love leaves me cold.

i have fantasies of breaking people's hearts, just because its so easy to do, and because it seems like a smarter option than letting myself become entangled with another human being. in my brain, it all reduces to the mother of all power plays, and when i think about it in those terms, i don't want to come to a mutually satisfactory agreement. i want to fucking WIN. i want to navigate out of any such compromising position while giving up a minimum of myself and keeping as inviolable and invulnerable as possible. i'll hurt people to accomplish this. there are no fucking rules when this shit is at stake.

but i'm lonely. so i pull people in, and then push them away. over, and over, and over again. sometimes the same person, sometimes i switch around. but the pattern is always the same. and it isn't, healthy.

there are a lot of things wrapped up in this. there are a lot of reasons why this is the way i am. but that doesn't make it any better. it doesn't excuse me.

i didn't see the movie, but i'm fascinated with the title "A Mighty Heart". i should see the movie. it was supposed to be great. but lets ponder for a second, the phrase "a mighty heart."

what does that phrase bring to your mind?

for me, it presents a vastly different imagining of the heart, and how its currency (love) functions. i go by the conservative, economic model. i'm terrified of giving myself, my love, away. i hoard it. i imagine it can be used up, and that if i spend too freely, one day i will wake up and my heart will be empty. there will be nothing left of me. my secrets will all reside in other people's brains, and other people's hearts. i'll be an empty room, with all the windows open. there will be nothing left of me. nothing left to give. and i will be alone, and loveless.

the phrase "a mighty heart" is a different model entirely. the mighty heart is not a receptacle to be filled and guarded; the mighty heart is a font of love, a producer of love. the mighty heart is not afraid of giving itself away too freely, or of being rebuffed, battered, and treated poorly. it scoffs at the idea of running out of love. for the mighty heart is ever producing more, all on its own. the mighty heart knows that love inevitably brings pain, and suffering. there will always be tears, and sleepless nights. but the mighty heart looks at the balance, the warmth and the light, and the promise of hope, against any resultant pains and betrayals. it looks at the balance, and over and over again, openly, gladly, it says "Yes. Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes!"

the mighty heart invites it all in. and when one experience is over, the mighty heart is full of that experience, every other experience its had, and its own mad, dizzy love that is fueled by its own pumping. the mighty heart understands that love is not best measured on a ledger sheet. love is an endless cycle, and each of us are producers, sellers, buyers, and consumers of love. you can't run out. if your heart is running properly, if it is truly mighty, you are always at least full of your own love, even if you lack that of others.

don't misunderstand. i'm not advocating any sort of brainless acceptance of any and all comers. but it all reminds me of my own final thoughts on my kiersey personality type. i'm more of a feeler than a thinker, but only by the barest of margins, and the two have traded places throughout my life. but my final assessment of this quirk in my makeup, is that i will forever reason and argue myself into positions where i can make a decision based on what will satisfy my logical, rational side, or what will satisfy my intuitive, irrational side. and more often than not, i will choose to satisfy my intuitive, irrational heart, and make my peace with any subsequent cognitive dissonance or hypocrisy.

its like the ladies man eventually says about how he knew his wife was "the one". "yeah, she was beautiful, soulful, intelligent, sophistimicated, and also, i felt it in my pants." all the desirables are there, sure, but with or without the looks, or smarts, or humor, you still have to feel it in your pants. i need to feel my choices in my pants/heart. the have to satisfy my emotional, intuitive, fierce and wild side, or they cannot be satisfying at all.

but this is where i am now; i am not making choices based on what is best for my emotional and spiritual growth. i am not making any decisions. i'm not letting myself be in situations where people and love and relationships present themselves. i've taken my bucket of love, and am burying it deeper and deeper within my heart; deeper with every disappointment and pain that i feel. i keep excavating, looking for the perfect, secure safe-house for my love. and meanwhile, my heart grows colder, and more shriveled and dry, like a comet hurtling through space.

all right. this is getting melodramatic.

suffice it to say, my heart doesn't feel mighty. my heart feels fragile. and it all probably links into my low self-esteem, my issues with loving myself, my parent issues, my previous relationships (if they really merit that title), being a victim of sexual assault, and a host of other things. i know what's going on. but i feel helpless to fix it. i don't know how to begin. i don't know where to start. i need help.

and i am greatly looking forward to the promise of therapy once the benefits from my job kick in.

but my meditation, i think, must be the mighty heart. i desire to have a mighty heart once again. and it will be a while, and it will take work, but it is my goal to once more have a mighty heart.

and i will not fail.

and valentine's day can suck it. it can suck it dry.