November 8th, 2012

Sea dragon

Loose ends

I just had to explain to my husband why we can't really even be friends anymore.

In part, we're in a situation where I don't trust him anymore. I've told him many times that there are things where his behavior causes me to not believe he cares about my feelings, and then he does the upsetting thing anyway.

When he said he wanted to get back together with me (for about two years), I told him that first he needed to earn my trust back. But even though he knew the kinds of things he needed to do in order for me to feel like he was a person I could trust, when those crisis situations came up, he chose to do something else.

Some day I will never know anything about him or what he does, and then I will never be disappointed in anything he does again, and certainly I won't feel like anything he does is a slap in the face of him saying, "You're not the boss of me, so there!" But now there are so few disappointments left to have that now I am disappointed in myself, that I could ever have chosen as a partner someone who would never, ever have my back because they don't like rocking the boat.

C'mon refinance, please come through so I no longer have to use the word husband in relationship to Jason. I need this to be over.
Wristband

Brain weasels

There are two bad patterns in my brain (my brine?) that started up in the last 6 years and seem to take over when I'm feeling low. One of them is the one from eight and a half years back, that I am an inherently unlovable person who does not merit having friends. I spent a year seeing this as the only logical conclusion I could reach from the intense social ostracism I endured at the hands of three friends that I could only believe no longer liked me because I wasn't worth liking. In my good times I realize the problem was that I had picked the wrong people to be friends with, but when I have people cut me out, I can flip back to this mode. They cut me out because I'm fucked up and unlovable. It's all I should expect. And when this happens, I go into a very bad place, a place where I am looking at a lifetime of being alone, which is a situation that for me is really unendurable because it makes me feel really, really bad.

And being in this place (first time two Octobers ago, when I said I wanted to divorce Jason and a bunch of people decided to cut me out because of this) leads to the other thing, which is wanting to kill myself and end the misery. I sit there and do a cost benefit analysis and based on the pleasure I am getting out of my life I don't see much of a reason to keep living it. Plus, you know, I'm defective (see above). I can tell I am in this place because I sit there at the train stations and keep thinking about where I need to stand for maximum effect. And I don't think, now or then, that I want to take drugs to change these feelings, because when I feel that way, I think that I'm better off _not_ continuing to drag out the situation. And if I'm going to keep spending my life getting into lows that last for six months at a time or longer, is it really a life worth living? I kinda think not.

I'm not feeling that way right now. I'm just feeling shitty. I've been feeling good for two months and I'm hoping the shitty feeling will go away. But I'm sad because looking at the me now, I know that the me of 10 years did not have either of these feelings, and I believe they will always be there in me now, like some disease that is suppressed by a healthy body but comes out when your immunity is dropped.

Yahoo. Check in with me in ten years, maybe I'll manage to break these things by then. Or maybe they'll have broken me.
Cowgirl

Reviews - War Horse and Robert Wilson's "Portraits"

I actually saw no shows at all last week (well, until Saturday night) as I was studying for my Saturday AM Life in the UK test (that didn't happen). So I haven't had much to write about theatrically lately. However, I did spend bits and pieces of all of last week working on a review of an art exhibit I saw in the Palazzo Madama in Turin, Robert Wilson's "Portraits," which earned my love in part because it had a portrait of Alan Cumming in there.

Otherwise for the last two weeks it seems like the only play I've seen was War Horse, which I loved to bits. It was a play for kids and I enjoyed it like a child. The prices were most definitely for adults, though. Still, go if you can!

Tonight I'm off to see a new Lucy Prebble play at the National Theater, so I'll be back on the reviewing wagon soon and getting lots of hits to my blog again as it's still in previews. Whew! What would my sponsors say if I kept getting just 200 visitors a day?