2002-08-12 - 12:25 p.m.
At least I have the coat to cuddle ...

Well, that was an interesting weekend. Lots of thinking, a wedding not attended, Tolkein alerts, and ... mmmm ... leather. Where to start? (Warning: Lots of introspection ahead).

Mom wanted me to go with her to a wedding on Saturday ... one of the guys I knew from youth group, who was in my graduating class in high school, was finally tying the knot with his girlfriend of several years. It so happens that Mom works with his mother, and the lady gave me $50 at graduation, so Mom was vastly annoyed that I didn't want to go. Seriously, though. One hour's warning? Like that's time to get ready for a wedding.

Mom grumbled at me when I told her that and said I could throw on any old dress, never mind my hair and makeup, and that she'd had the week from hell. I think that last was meant as an excuse for why she hadn't told me earlier, as she obviously has known about the wedding for a long time. But I still refused. Azash and I drove over anyway, as we were scheduled to watch the first "Lord of the Rings" movie with them that afternoon, but I told her I didn't feel like going.

When I arrived, she had her Mom Face on and asked me to accompany her while she finished putting her makeup on. One look at her and I knew exactly what was on her mind; I made a pre-emptive strike and told her I'd been seeing a shrink. She made a face and said, "That's funny, I was just telling your father before you got here that you needed help. You've really withdrawn into yourself lately, and it's not healthy."

To myself I thought, Hah! I'm getting really good at this empathic thing. And then, Shit. Here comes the Mom-lecture. Which I was also right about. She of course pried all the details out of me, insisted I tell Dad and Azash, and said she'd tell KaDee's mom, her friend and incidentally an RN whom she was attending the wedding with. *rolling eyes*

In the end, though, she didn't have much to say. Just, "I'm glad you're being responsible enough to get help," and also, "Be really careful. Your Aunt [#######] saw a shrink and turned into a selfish manipulative bitch. Is this guy a Christian? Don't just believe everything he says."

Dad kindof half-laughed and said, "You probably get the depression thing from your mom's family, but I bet you get the attention thing from me," and so on with the anecdotes.

Azash said nothing much, kinda blew it off. I had to make him swear, though, not to tell KaDee's brother, whom he hangs out with a lot. The last I need is a bunch of "mental" jokes!

All in all ... there was a distinct lack of rejection, but on a scale from one to ten, they registered at about a three on the support-o-meter. I told Mom directly that I hadn't wanted to tell her earlier because I knew exactly how she felt about the attention deficit thing, and she didn't really answer me. Didn't want to lie to me, I expect. Instead she just went on about it being over-diagnosed, and used as an excuse, and to be careful and not believe everything the Dr. said without question.

Exactly why I didn't want to spill the beans in the first place. But better than Mom scheduling me an appointment again or urging me in that I'm-so-concerned-about-you guilt-trip way to see someone. I'm not ten anymore, fuck-you-very-much. I may be admitting here that I need help, but I would appreciate it if someone would remember that I'm 24 years old, and can operate on a mental level with people of twice my age and education. Condescension does nothing but make my attitude worse.

I don't think things would ever have gotten this bad if I'd had someone to lean on, someone to share things with. I'm serious, here. Looking back now, I can tell you for definite sure that the moment my engagement broke wasn't on Valentine's Day in 1997, when he trapped me in his apartment and told me he wouldn't let me leave until we finalized our wedding date. It wasn't that day in March when he started in with the inappropriate touching in public, and when confronted told me he wanted to push the physical boundaries of our relationship as far as possible, despite my discomfort with it. (Hey, I'm not frigid. Just virgin). It wasn't the day he tried to reprimand my young cousin for touching the $4.50 gift he bought me for my birthday. ("Hands off! That's gold-plated and genuine Austrian crystal!")

No, the day that pushed it all over the edge, the day I felt genuine dread, was the day I came to him broken-up and upset over something, and he said flat out, "Sorry. I can't be supportive for you, I need you to be supportive for me, I had a hellish day in class."

I don't lean on people easily. I've always tried to be as self-reliant as I could, possibly a by-product of my somewhat odd social life in childhood, and it's rare for me to find someone I'd trust enough to completely let my hair down with. At that time in my life, it was Hildegaard, sometimes Jocasta and Madman ... and I'd hoped that the Weatherman would also be one such. I was hungry for love, for support, for someone I could let go around whose attention was all for me, whom I could give all my attention in return. I was looking for a partnership.

Letting go for him that day, asking for support ... whether either of us realized it at the time or not, that was a test of our relationship, and he failed it. Even a simple "I had a really bad day too. I'll tell you about it in a minute. What happened to you?" would have done the trick. Instead he told me to get back to him tomorrow about my day, then curled up in my arms on that bench, for all the world like a kid with his Mama, and whined about himself. I soothed, felt confused, and from that day forward nothing was the same.

I've still got Hildegaard, of course, and Jocasta, and some others of my friends. But every last one of them has a full and complicated life of their own, save perhaps Hildegaard, and she lives 300 miles away. I know intellectually that I need to find a new "tribe", as the Dr. put it, but I have a certain amount of dread about that.

It may be my strict Christian upbringing talking -- in fact, I'm sure it is. I was repeatedly taught that God won't give you anything until you're ready for it, even (and perhaps especially) romance. That being needy is a flaw, and will just jeopardize any relationship you form. That you need to release it all and just trust in God before he'll give you anything true and deserving.

How, I ask you?

... Have you ever heard of skin-hunger? Something experienced by the touchy-feely sort of person when they're denied, for a long time, touchy-feely affection in their relationships? Well, that's me all over. Half the time these days when I imagine myself having a new boyfriend, what I find myself truly longing for is just to be held. A good long hug. Affectionate pats on the back. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, or rubbing my fingers over the stubble on his jaw when he's forgotten to shave, or pressing my lips to his sweaty shoulder after a long day's work and just inhaling his scent. How do you just erase that kind of longing?

What perhaps makes this even more laughable is that I didn't experience that kind of longing until after Weatherman. Until after the time I visited with his family, and was sitting half on his lap sharing a chair with him, laughing about something, not bodyconscious at all, and his mother came in with a disapproving look and asked if I was that touchy-feely with all my friends. (The answer, then, was Yes). I've been self-conscious about it ever since, and have probably just been making things harder on myself.

So forgive me if I'm reluctant to go hunting for new friends. I'm afraid of FUBAR-ing them up straight from the beginning with "jeopardizing neediness". Silly, I know. But the fear is still there.

But I'm getting side-tracked with too much introspection. Other events of this weekend include more indulging of my new SG-1 fascination, watching "Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring" with the parents, and going to the beach.

Watching LOTR with my mom was perhaps a mistake ... she hated "The Matrix", disliked "Unbreakable," and wouldn't even finish "3000 Miles to Graceland", all recent favorites of mine. Her likes tend to straight this-is-the-hero thats-the-bad-guy ends-happy shoot-em-ups or else squishy romances like "Notting Hill." Not that I dislike either category; I adored "Notting Hill." But still ... the only thing she had to say about LOTR was, "Interesting."

C'mon, interesting??? *casting eyes up to Heaven* Why me? Dad loved it. But then Dad introduced me to epic fantasy in the first place, when he encouraged me to read the Belgariad when I was eight. Gifted me with Tolkein when I was ten. Left Melanie Rawn lying around where I could read her when I was thirteen. None of which I ever remember Mom reading. *sigh*

Sunday was more fun. Azash and I got up at eight, hit the road at nine on a fast-food breakfast, and were at the coast by ten-something. The air was a bit chilly, but it was gorgeous out, and we cruised down 101 to Depoe Bay to check on the tides at the Devil's Punchbowl. KaDee's brother was with, griping about how much his arm stung after the ring-of-flames tatoo he got and making raunchy small-talk with Azash. I ignored them and lost myself in the Cryptonomicon while we drove ... mmm, mmm, good.

Nothing like really intelligent fiction to absorb the mind. And nothing like sun and salt-streaked air to revive the spirits. We were lucky and caught the tide way, way out, and went splashing out among the tide-pools and investigating the Punchbowl itself for any loose, pretty rocks. There were several starfish and urchins out and more kelp than I ever want to see again, but we never saw the octopus some of the returning waders were laughing about.

I went barefoot as per usual -- better traction on sand and slick rock than my sandals, although the barnacles on some of the limestone made me grateful for my calluses -- and damn, but that water was cold. Good old Oregon ocean, never warmer than the low fifties (Fahrenheit). I was a bit wary of my allergy, but oddly enough it was my arms that reacted, throwing up rash and small hives in the chill breeze; my feet were fine.

After a lengthy investigation, we went back to Lincoln City and hit the outlet mall. And what do you know, the leather shop was throwing a 40% off sale. Perhaps you remember a few months ago when I was going off about that leather coat I pictured myself in? It was THERE.

$167 isn't cheap, although it's better than $285 or whatever it was before ...

I'm really going to hate my credit card bill next month. *wide grin* At least now I can ditch the sorry old thing I've been dragging around since high school. Mmmm, black leather ... and the exact cut I wanted ... all I need is a bit of that waterproofing stuff, and I'm in coat-heaven! (Now I just need to upgrade the rest of my wardrobe to match).

Anyway. I've rambled on for far too long, and I'm starting to fidget mightily ... I have my third appointment today, at 3:00pm, and Mom's told me in no uncertain terms that I'm to call her directly after. Not something I'm looking forward to. *sigh* I know, I know. Buck up, girl, and get it over with.