8:20 a.m. - 01/08/02
[.these are.] not all of the-| infintesimal things-|, you can find wrong with me...
blackfish left me this loving note today.
"You are so self-righteous. Overcoming a disease does not mean completely shunning and disregarding any guy that has ever handed out his heart to you. It makes me sick how they can say such kind words about you and for you, but you can do nothing but ignore and belittle them. You treat them like they are the only ones with flaws. Everyone has weaknesses. Why didn't you tell them from the start that you were just going to step on them until they turned to dust? Why remain in such steady contact with someone if you didn't trust them? I hope, for your sake, that you rethink your actions sometimes. Hiding from the male persuasion isn't going to get you anywhere. These were friends that cared about you, and you kicked them away. You let them in, then decided to flush it all away. That, dear girl, is intensely sick. You have gone from coming off as a masochistic kind-person to a sadistic wannabe-feminist hellspawn. Other people have feelings too. Other people have needs too. Shredding their friendships to pieces has bigger effects than you realize. I can see your plasticity."
before I read notes or e-mails from d*land people, I always check out their journal to get an idea of who they are. I want to know who's writing me, usually just out of curiosity. notes are fun. hate mail not so much, but I have to say, this blackfish sure looks familiar.
I have to say no matter how many hate letters I get this week, they don't get any easier, and yes I will read over this, brood over this, the same way I continue to ruminate over Billy's entry. It doesn't quit. I don't quit. I keep looking at their words, gagging on the idea that someone could say these things about me. perhaps it shows how sick I really am that it doesn't surprise me. I don't think, wow, they really don't know me or they would never think such awful things as these. I don't. I think, so this is me, someone finally realized how disgusting I really am.
are you happy? do you realize the power that you have? the power I have given you?
I feel drawn to defend myself. this adolescent exchange is tiresome now as well as brutal. still, I feel drawn to defend myself if only to keep from playing victim while my friends defend me. I'll take care of myself, kids, thanks.
"You are so self-righteous."
self-right�eous (adj.)
1.) Piously sure of one's own righteousness; moralistic.
2.)Exhibiting pious self-assurance.
pi�ous (adj.)
Having or exhibiting religious reverence; earnestly compliant in the observance of religion; devout.
righteous (adj.)
1.)Morally upright; without guilt or sin: a righteous parishioner.
2.)In accordance with virtue or morality: a righteous judgment.
3.)Morally justifiable: righteous anger.
I am devoutly sure of my own stance as morally upstanding? Despite the fact that I consider the essence of me poisonous, and compare myself to devils and fiends? I *wish* I were self-righteous. My ego is far too broken for that end of the spectrum, I'm afraid.
Yes, really; I'm *afraid.*
"Overcoming a disease does not mean completely shunning and disregarding any guy that has ever handed out his heart to you."
I looked shunning up in the dictionary just now (I'm trying really hard to understand you, at the same time words are my defense) and it compares it to escaping. Shunning, in its definition, is synonymous with escaping. Isn't that interesting? I didn't randomly decide to cut you out of my life; I chose to put up what I considered necessary precautions. I started setting boundaries sometime last spring...we've just now gotten to that final boundary you call "shunning." (And once again, blackfish, you cannot recognize it. Or do you always leave notes under assumed names?)
dis�re�gard (tr.v.)
1.)To pay no attention or heed to; ignore.
2.)To treat without proper respect or attentiveness.
(n.)
Lack of thoughtful attention or due regard.
I did ignore you. I ignored you to attempt to clarify the boundary I wanted to set with you. My thought was that if I told you repeatedly to go away, the *act* of telling you would perpetuate whatever relationship we had, and whatever hope you had for that relationship, which wasn't something I wanted to do. I'm writing this now out of my own hurt feelings. Were I being logical, I'd continue the silence, but the pain is deeper than the shallow scratches on my forearms. You've hit into my shame, Zach. Congratulations. You're echoing what I've known about myself for years, and it makes me feel more subhuman than a thousand words could cure.
"It makes me sick how they can say such kind words about you and for you, but you can do nothing but ignore and belittle them."
Kind words, like those you wrote to me in my notes? Kind words, like these I'm staring at? No, of course not, you mean the other words, the words I was constantly met with every time I longed on, before I asked you to leave. Wait one moment, what do you mean by *kind*?
kind (adj.)
1.) Of a friendly, generous, or warm-hearted nature.
So, yes, telling me you loved me every day, several times a day, would have been kind.
2.) Showing sympathy or understanding; charitable.
Did you ever listen to my needs long enough to show understanding for them, or was it me, always, listening? But I'll give you that one as my choice. I made no move to change our dynamic in my favor. I can see where you would feel it was kind.
3.)Humane; considerate: kind to animals.
If you see me as an animal, I can understand your perception of your behavior as kind. But I don't think you did, not until I asked you to leave me alone. I think you saw me as a close friend, and that scared you far more than this new wild-beast me does. When were you considerate, though? When you forced your suicideality on me night after night? When you told me you were going to kill yourself, oh but here's my number if you really care, and got off IM? When you went to "fetch the knife" and then ordered me to decide (since you loved me) where you'd stab yourself? Or when you told me it was my inability to love you that was forcing you over the edge? Which one of these was so *considerate?* What other instances am I forgetting, Zach?
4.)Forbearing; tolerant: Our neighbor was very kind about the window we broke.
Forgive me for seeing myself as the tolerant one. I believe I was tolerant. I believe I eventually decided to quit being so tolerant, and protect myself from what I thought would be a negative, if not extremely detrimental, influence, my first weeks, and then months out of the hospital. Do you think it felt good to stop being someone's goddess, to stop being up on that pedestal? Do you think it felt *good* to lose any sense of heroic identity I once had, already beaten sufficiently by the friend I couldn't save? Tracy. Did you forget about her, or did you just decide now is as good a time as any to attack me?
5.)Generous; liberal: kind words of praise.
You did praise me. You were generous with those words. Every time I stayed up until the a.m. talking with you, trying to believe you'd be alive the next day, I recieved an e-mail telling me how incredible I was to be there for you, how I'd saved you, and how sorry you were. I was the reason you were holding onto life, you said, even as you assured me that you were dying because of what I would not say.
That I loved you as anything more than a friend. Were you tolerant of that, Zach? Were you tolerant of how little I could love anyone at that point in my life? Were you tolerant of the fact that my love, when it came, went elsewhere? You were hurt.
I'll tell you what I think; I think the greatest disservice I ever did you was to let us believe that I was the one who could save you. All along, you had the power to take care of yourself, and my staying up night after night, kept you from seeing that. I'd apologize for that, without sarcasm. I'd apologize for that.
6.)Agreeable; beneficial: a dry climate kind to asthmatics.
It's useless to go into whether I thought you created an agreeable environment for my recovery. In the end, this might all be useless, but at least I'm feeling calmer. My recovery is my own because my disease was my own, it was personalized, so who better than me to look at my life and reframe it to better suit who I want to be? I have the strength now to get out of the depressed, cynical, bitter, drugs-are-beauty surroundings, I was forever creating through my friends. And you attack that...?
"You treat them like they are the only ones with flaws. Everyone has weaknesses."
I asked you to leave because I was scared of my own weaknesses, scared that I would not be able to stay safe around you. I know my own weakness, Zach, and it was not yours that frightened me. It was your power. I had given you so much power.
"Why didn't you tell them from the start that you were just going to step on them until they turned to dust?"
Did I ever lie to you? I hated myself, Zach, and you're telling me I *never* said to you, "You shouldn't talk to me" "I can't help you" or even "There's someone better"...? There are a thousand people better, and I know I said that to you. I said so many things, trying to explain, trying to make you understand that I wouldn't be what you wanted, that I was poison brewing.
It's you who chooses which words make it through.
"Why remain in such steady contact with someone if you didn't trust them?"
I was scared. I was scared that you would die and I'd feel guilty for not having given you what you needed. I thought if I could keep you alive, I wouldn't feel like such a bad person. You want the truth; that was it. Fear.
"I hope, for your sake, that you rethink your actions sometimes."
I hope, for my sake, that I quit thinking occasionally and act.
"Hiding from the male persuasion isn't going to get you anywhere."
Male persuasion is what has me ever-more-convinced that I am a malignant being. Perhaps if I avoid it I won't get anywhere, but that would ensure I won't get *killed.*
Honestly, though the only people I was hiding from have found me. I've seen how well that works, and now all I have left to wonder is if you're asking me to leave again, or if I'm supposed to stay and take the punches?
"These were friends that cared about you, and you kicked them away. You let them in, then decided to flush it all away."
All in one breath? Or did I let you in, get extremely mixed-up, have some fun, have some pain, and eventually decide I needed something new? I tried, Zach. But in the end, what can we do if we don't navigate by what we think is right?
"That, dear girl, is intensely sick."
Too bad I'm not allowed to do what I need to overcome that illness.
"You have gone from coming off as a masochistic kind-person to a sadistic wannabe-feminist hellspawn."
Wow. That's an extremely hurtful, extremely well-worded umbrage. I'm not even human anymore, then? I went from being masochistic, (I can see where you draw that; I found pleasure in the negative attention I received for my pain, as well as the identity it gave me) to sadistic. Interestingly enough, I almost used sadistic for my imood the day I wrote that e-mail to you, but I reread the definition and decided it was unfitting, seeing as I receive no internal gratification for what I did to you. And any outside person who pats me on the back for refuting you will only cause me more pain. I hate what I've done. I hate where I'm at in my life. I hate what I am, and what people believe I am. I'm not exactly feeling blissful for what I've done here.
Wanna-be feminist, I'll give you. I want the strength of feminism. Imagine: strength enough to fuel a movement from a source once deemed too weak to go outside. I don't consider myself a feminist, as I want to heal humanity in general, persons in particular, without a specific gender in mind. Any priority I place on seemingly feminist issues comes from the fact that a.) I'm a girl and b.) boys scare me, two very pertinent realities.
Hellspawn I won't even go into it. Except to say that you once considered me an angel, and it scares me to realize that perception is often as fleeting as I worry. That I cause you real pain a few times over the course of a semi-longlasting, day-to-day relationship, and suddenly I'm satanic?
It doesn't anger me. I only shake my head and want to cry.
"Other people have feelings too. Other people have needs too. Shredding their friendships to pieces has bigger effects than you realize."
Their friendships? Your friendships? Isn't that it exactly? Where was I in these relationships? When did I ever speak my mind or have *my* say? I didn't. Not once. Not until the moment I sent that e-mail to you asking for distance. I shredded your friendships for *my* sake. Selfish. Please god let me be selfish enough to survive, when it's *so hard.*
I didn't do it to hurt you; in fact, it took me this long to do it because I *didn't want* to hurt you. It took me this long to do it because I care about you, though I hesitate to even say it because I know how hurtful those words are coming from someone who has just "shredded" your heart. I know that pain; I didn't want to give it to you.
Tell me, Zach. How else could I have asked for what I needed and received it - how could I have stated my needs without hurting you? When even the most blatant words I have only result in more pain sent to me? What other method could I have used? I'm out of ideas. The scars on my arms are not for you. They are me trying to survive.
"I can see your plasticity" sounds like a threat. You threaten my humanity, my right to make mistakes, my conscience, my blessedness; everything that makes me good and everything that gives me the ability to do wrong, you threaten with these five words.
To say you spoke this way with me in the past would be a lie. But it is the pain in you that can say these words, the threat that they offer to my sense of recovering life, that I've been afraid of all along.
It's this I'm "shunning" - this I'm running from.
Mary
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