I have watched with varying levels of bemusement over the last days as someone has shifted and wriggled around in their self-definitions as a result of recent events. They went from “pretty content” to “pretty happy” to “very happy” as if, somehow, declaring it so makes it so.
What I know of this one and their situation tells me clearly this is denial and an attempt to shore themselves up; you know, the whole “say it and make it true” process. I hope they succeed but, given what I’ve seen of the pathology and the contributing circumstances of their life, it seems they are heading for a very grim time and perhaps even a massive change.
The sad part is, they did a pretty good job of ensuring I wouldn’t want to be there to support or help (and if you know me, you know that’s saying something).
No, the truly sad part is, all it would take to set things on even keel and re-engage me would be any level of sincere demonstration that the error is seen, acknowledged, accepted, and that there is a commitment to not repeating it.
As the days go by, I find the cementing of my realization that the potential/possibility for such a thing is effectively nil. Vanity, pride, and (of course) that same fear that caused it all in the first place are no less present than ever, execpt now, they are known quantities (thus, likely it becomes impossible because the interest is outweighed by self-loathing).
For me, a bit of humor with myself over the declarations and all those periods at the end of all those sentences; I can’t change the reality that I am made of the belief I hold in relation to infinite possibility. It remains (regardless my snarls) and, even with things as they are, I am not quite willing to take the last slivers of my attention from it just yet. Hopefulness slowly turning to ridiculousness, I suppose. I do a good job of demonstrating the difference between what most consider anger and what real anger looks and feels like. It is a very rare person indeed who cares to repeat the experience. I suppose it goes without saying that I seek to engage and share with rare people; implicit to this is that I’m willing to wait for them.
I find myself contemplating the alternate paths; how it might have been had they found fearlessness, how it might have been had they been less willing to try and manipulate, etc. and it occurs to me that they probably do not understand that my anger and reaction wasn’t for what was “done” but for what was implied by it. No, I don’t want “that kind” of relation. I think I made it pretty clear what I was interested in and that interest was rejected out of fear.
So it is. I guess what I am trying to say is that I doubt I’ll be any different than ever I have been on such things… should this change, I remain curious. The point at which that dies is never truly here. So, rather than deny it, I acknowledge it and set it here the same as anything else.
Time tells all things.