today, i feel strong.
i left the house for the first time in a few days, because it’s that time of year. i only went running errands and dropped by a market, but while i was doing it, despite the debilitating heat, i managed to make a few decisions; ones that sometimes i can’t make.
i’ve actually enjoyed this ‘season’. i had a few quiet days thanks to losing my voice and having my father not ring, then a successful bah humbug dinner, then my housemate went away and i didn’t miss people at all: i’ve had the place to myself, it’s been clean enough to cook and i’ve done it once, it’s been clean enough to draft patterns on the loungeroom floor, and i’ve done that too. i’ve done a bit of work soldering and chasing up articles, listened to lectures, tried two ways to draft a pattern to reproduce my hat, labeled them well and made two toiles. i’ve fixed my saws, done some cleaning up in my garage, done washing, gardened.
my to do list for tomorrow involves lots of practical things, including some i’ve been putting off. also a few things with words – hopefully i can start making headway on them too. it’s telling that i feel good when i’m in the middle of lots of practical things, but i don’t know how i can make the most of this considering my life generally demands lots of reading, writing and contacting people – all the hard stuff – and for good reason: my life goals are about changing the world, and that doesn’t happen by fixing overlockers.
be that as it may, what have i learnt, or reminded myself of? having the house functionally tidy is important to me. being able to engage in practical stuff is good for me. having my father ring me daily is disturbing in this mood, though i know it’s a lifeline when things are really bad. i could probably live alone except that i can’t afford it, and i know i’d probably get rather more insular which isn’t great. i need an income so that i can do things like buy garage shelving when i feel like it, and pay my bills without juggling, thus worry less. i can indeed keep my mind engaged without uni, and we’re working on the world-saving and good social interaction problems, though there’s a huge way to go.
so my first girlfriend’s little green dot popped up on google chat.
i haven’t thought about her for quite a while. she said some pretty nasty stuff about me online, and never made an effort to be friends. the few times we interacted over the last seven years, i’ve been surprised she’s been civil.
my first thought was to say hi; i guess it would be up to me. but i’d have to be prepared to maybe not be answered, and to find something worth saying.
i think over my life; how i would present myself if asked what i’m up to. always an interesting exercise, a good motivator to make my life something i can own with pride. my current situation would probably not look wildly exciting to her, but that’s just fine. i realise i don’t need her approval, i just need to be able to hold my head up. i can.
then i thought that i really don’t know who she is anymore. i’d rather see if she’s still posting her travel blog, than interact personally with her. but i couldn’t remember the address, and i’m sure it was never bookmarked in this computer, which is only a few years old.
i got as far as typing her name into google; guess what, an interview comes up, which reveals that as of last year, she had been living in one place for a few years. that’s new, and good. an interesting place, too, with a radical queer women’s choir.
that all sounds good, perfect for her, in fact. i’m glad to think she’s found somewhere she can call home, i was always a little concerned about the need to up and move to the other side of the world every six months. she obviously has some kind of community, with queer and musical life, and she can probably speak croatian fluently by now. i’m glad for her.
i may look her up if i’m passing nearby zagreb one day, but until then, i don’t think talking to her will improve my life, and i doubt it would improve hers. my five minutes of nostalgia is over and i’m back to my life, happy in the knowledge that someone i used to know seems to be doing well.
if the model is correct and my brain really simmers evenly on low while waiting to jump, it opens up new avenues of enquiry about how i operate and how i can improve.
i understand needing silence to get written work done, needing to reduce irrelevant input. i respect that cognitive behavioural therapy and acceptance and commitment therapy each have something to add in getting me to a position where i don’t have unnecessary barriers to my work. but all the surface preparation in the world doesn’t get me the spark of inspiration that i need.
the car is full of petrol, it’s tuned through years of education. i’m taking down roadblocks and leaving a smooth road to drive, but without the ingnition key, i’m relying on push starts. push starts are hard and unreliable.
so where can i find a key? inspiration, interest, understanding what i need to do, purpose. i can get things done in the back and forwards of a good meeting, bouncing off people, honing my idea, persuading people of its merits. when i know my tasks are straight forward for me, and i can go straight home after that meeting and get right onto them, i often get through them well. maybe a meeting is one of my keys. interaction, responsibility. however i think i need a whole keyring of keys for different times, ignition under different conditions. when i watched the myers briggs video, researched the websites, found out how it related to me, thought on it for a couple of days and talked about it, i set down 1500 words straight out, which clarified my thinking. there must have been a key involved there. what was it?
meanwhile, it seems my mother is istj, my neighbour and my father is enfj, my tribesman. they are each other’s novelty. i learnt a fair bit more about both by watching them do the tests.
yesterday my housemate and i looked into myers briggs types. the day before he had shown me a tedx talk by Jan Kise (1) about learning styles, derived from comparing brain scans and behaviours of people of different myers-briggs types. it had a few interesting points to send me fishing for more. she only discussed the first two letters in that talk, but things seemed to make some sense. while some brains light up all over when they’re used. mine buzzes at an even, low level; ready to jump either way. that seems to make sense of how i work, and how i hit big roadblocks whenever i need to do things that can’t be spontaneously generated.
yesterday we found an expanded text of that talk (2). it got muddy when exploring the last two letters, but i liked the way it explained extraversion and intraversion, and behaviours that equate to kinaesthetic learning, which has always been explained to me as ‘learning by movement’ or ‘needing to move in order to learn’, which doesn’t really make sense unless you’re learning something like dance. here, they are all described as ways you gain energy, not things you like, need or do. i’ve always been categorised as introverted, even when people i work with don’t believe it. i delight in being around people when i find them interesting and something good is going on and i know how to play my role and things are going well. i spend a lot of time doing it, and i generally get lonely if i don’t see enough people, though i existed quite serenely much of last year in my isolation. ultimately interaction puts a strain on me and if i keep doing it and don’t get downtime, i start buzzing and can’t function well. situations where i don’t know where i stand are torture, which is partly why i enjoy keeping myself in little communities rather than the mainstream world. and i often have a deep craving for complete silence, it’s painful to be in noise and light and movement when i’m tired or conflicted or stressed, though the impulse to sleep leaves me and i can stay on the computer in the soft, quiet dark for hours after i started snapping at people and swaying and had to leave a social situation. the impatience and lack of attention and frustration some people seem to get trying to do maths in a classroom with no external stimulation, i’m more likely to get with overstimulation.
we continued to google and came across a short myers-briggs test (3). tom did it first, and when he came up with my type, though he had identified with the lit up brain in the video, i did it again and came up with the same. last year i did the test once and got a different type, but that may have been influenced by the specifics of the time. so, a house of two intjs, which only make up 1.5% of the population according to that site (i think – can’t find it again). we’re called masterminds. huh. one of the rational temperaments. pragmatic, impressed by ideas rather than conventions or authority. good but reluctant leaders, who only step up when others prove themselves incompetent. stimulated by problem solving, reluctant to make negative comments, definite and self-confident. hm. i was a little surprised to be told i should make decisions easily, but further in that’s qualified with needing to know all the data and be confident the decision is being made on very good research, and not being able to stop until it’s settled. suddenly it’s back to being close to home. (4)
today’s analysis (5) had a few different points. this site categorises the type as ‘systems builders’ and says we are very aware of what we don’t know, and our perfectionism is only saved by our ruthless pragmatism in asking ‘does it work’. it all sounds very very flattering to me, though it may not to others, until it decides that we’re a bit useless at personal relationships. oh dear. caring and effort are not enough, who knew? we would benefit from understanding and enjoying social rituals like small talk and flirting. yet apparently if we can get past that, systematic effort to understand the people close to us by synthesising data from verbal and nonverbal communication can substitute for the ’empathy’ that others apparently do naturally, and will create robust, stable relationships with good communication. because we want people to ‘make sense’ to us. you mean others don’t??
feeling that i’m condemned to search for needles in haystacks for all my friends, family and partners, i clicked a few more links and ended up looking at the breakup of the rest of the world, and how my type relates. my next find (6) breaks down each type by gender and percentage of the population, and lists intj women as the smallest of all categories, with only 0.8% of the population (with intj representing 2.1% of the total population). about half the population (no notes on who or where is included) is introverted, though a bit less for women, only a quarter is intuitive, again more men, over half of men are thinking but less than a quarter of women, and just over half are judging, this time a few points more women than men. for a queer woman who spends plenty of time in largely female environments, the odds of finding people like me are getting more and more dismal the more i read.
luckily, finding a clone of myself isn’t the goal of my life; i want to find people who understand me, and true to form, who i understand. one of the analyses (5) allocates appropriate types of relationships for me to share with people of each other type. luckily there’s also a brief explanation of what these categories mean (7).
this is where it starts looking even more uncomfortably like astrology, as it neatly allocates sixteen types to sixteen types with sixteen categories with never a drop spilt. but as i’ve studied the tests at the basis of this jumble and have a reasonable confidence in their methods and their grounding in reality, i pressed on, adding acknowledgement of the limitations of the instrument which, while lacking in some of these websites, is present in more academic work i remember reading.
synthesising the category matchups, descriptions and percentages (5, 7, 6) i find that my best bet for a companion, with similar modes of expression and bearing eachother’s company well, is the 1.46% of the population (1.6% of women) who are infjs, the smallest group overall. the 1.8% who are entjs (0.9% female, 2.7% male) will make me a good ‘pal’ who will work and play well with me, with minimal conflict. slightly more encouragingly, good suitemates with whom i could comfortably share an office as we will prefer similar environments while having little in common regarding goals and worldview, are istps at 5.4%, though only 2.4% of women, and cohorts, who are to mutually be drawn into experiential escapades with me, are estps who make up 4.3% (3% women). enfjs at 2.5%, 3.3% women for once, are apparently tribesman, with whom i share a sense of culture, whatever that means, though not interests or abilities.
though i don’t stand by this breakdown, these are the six categories which immediately seem particularly harmonious in different ways; 17.56% of the population, 12% of women. at present i don’t have the patience to compare the 39.04% of the population and 31.7% of women who should fall into the six apparently midrange categories who appear to be complementary to my type in various ways. however the most common types, which collectively involve 56.3% of women and 30% of men, making 43.4% of the population, are the four sf types, who will be enigmas, novelties, supplements and animas to me. i aborted my exploration of what an anima is when it immediately went a step more jungian than i’m prepared to tolerate, but i think it’s safe to say at least three of these are all the people that i will understand least, and who will presumably also not understand me.
are these patterns created more by biology or environment? how much can they change as we learn to adapt to the world? what’s with the jungian analysis i read last year that predicts certain changes happening at two fairly specific ages, the first of which is around my age now? how does all this work with diverse and fluid genders? how big is the sample size for the percentages? how was it found? where are the participants from? are these types and proportions meant to be global and culture-free? why does the pattern of totals not behave regularly in relation to the male and female numbers they’re supposed to encompass? how well do the brain scans really match up? what else do they show? there are many holes, some of which could be pursued and some of which may be irreconcilable, but there’s also much food for thought.
wow, 1521 words in one go, referenced and all.
there are some things that i need to admit.
one reason i haven’t been writing here much is that several things in my life have shifted in recent years, and not everything is suitable for public consumption. it’s not that they’re personal. nothing of the sort. i have no problem telling the whole world about the crazy, different and sometimes quite intimate interesting details of my life. i have in my head a vague picture of who might be listening, who would possibly read this, and i have no problem telling them how strange i am. they already know, and that’s probably why they like me.
but now, the things that i feel the need to tell people are not those things. i’m not quite normal enough to be understood quite well enough by the nice friendly straight normal people around me; i can discuss the exciting parts of having a house at length, and it’s great, but the just don’t understand why i’m embarrassed about it. but that’s the theme of several half finished posts, not this one.
what i’m going to admit today is that, while i’ve built my life on academia; doing higher degrees and working in research, i can’t do any of it alone.
sometimes i wonder how independence has become such a big thing. we’re social creatures, can’t exist in isolation, and indeed, teamwork is the thing to be able to do, these days. but i keep doing study where i need to write essays that compete with everyone else’s, where you have to prove it’s your own work, where it’s risky to even discuss your work with your classmates. at least it’s not quite as much of a competition at uts as it was at mac, where everything was norm curved.
i also work alone on my project at work. in fact i work on most projects somewhat alone. i naturally gravitate to the projects that noone else is doing, the ideas that aren’t current, the minority populations. multiple minorities, no less. i find niches for myself, where i can do my own thing in my own way, without the same competition or scrutiny that you get running with a pack. there are several disadvantages to this, but a big one is that i often have too little support.
in academia i have always had my strategies and ways of coping. i learnt early to get to know my teachers, both so i could learn more from them, and so i could get the extensions i couldn’t live without. more time to work, and adjustments to the question until it made sense for my life, my priorities and my brain.
one strategy i have always fought against, however, was needing help with the actual writeup. tooth and nail. i remember in year ten, refusing to hand in my commerce assignment that was probably ninety percent paragraphs of gibberish that my overenthusiastic father had written. they weren’t on topic, they didn’t always make sense and they most certainly didn’t follow eachother and they just weren’t my work, but i was made to hand it in, or i wouldn’t have gotten my school certificate. i can see it now, a thick wad of zigzag folded paper with tractor feed edges still attached, chunks of dot matrix text ranged sporadically its length, interspersed with empty white fields of shame.
Several people have helped me write over the years. cross legged at the computer on the floor at my boyfriend’s place. flat on the bed with my hands stretched above my head to the keyboard on the desk in a late night skype session with my long distance girlfriend. side by side at a desk in a stuffy room with my father’s friend’s wife who we paid to help, until my next essay is on aboriginal education and it turned out she was racist. study groups and emailed draft exchanges with a few amazing classmates. at the top of my voice with my father, ‘what are you crazy? that doesn’t make any sense at all, why would i want to say something like that, it’s ridiculous, it goes like this – scribble scribble scribble – shut up don’t break my concentration i’ve got a sentence.’ and in random social situations with several wonderful friends who let me ramble on about my topic until i found a bit more clarity and enthusiasm.
it was all a bit embarrassing and made me wonder about my self worth, but i gradually began turning in a better standard of work, and all in my own voice, whatever help i’d needed in order to get there. what i really became worried about was the interaction with my father. i let him get me so frustrated with his strange ideas, stranger articulation and relentless ‘help’ that i was screaming the house down, and somehow i could get past the blocks in my brain and get the right words out, in the appropriate format. would i always have to experience that level of anger to be able to write anything? how did that even work? it seems illogical, untenable and downright insane.
unfortunately it hasn’t much changed. he can somehow break the block if i’m in such a panic that i can barely function, but i never want to be in that position ever again. with my mother, however, things have changed. originally she would complain if i asked her anything about anything. she would say she hated philosophy, and would complain if anything had big words that she wasn’t comfortable with. post modernism. epistemology. she was perfectly capable of working with them, of course, but she wasn’t willing to be a person who wasn’t threatened by something she didn’t know. i never figured out why it was important to her.
some time when i was taking less theoretical subjects, she started doing that final edit for me, the one where you’ve seen your words so many times that you no longer notice typos so need someone else to do it. it wasn’t with particularly good grace most of the time, but i can’t complain when i was forever late and emailing her in the middle of the night, or hoping she was free to drop everything at some unspecified time so that she could look through it in the ten minutes before i had to be out the door to hand it in a little less late that it could’ve been. and of course much of the time i couldn’t even manage that, and went without; trusting that the fact that the paragraphs were evenly shaped meant there were no sentence offcuts or notes left in.
now, however, she’s been really helpful, and i’m so grateful. i can make a time when she’s free, to email her a copy of whatever i have, and sit on the phone as we hammer it out. the setup is important; trying to be comfortable and stay still in their dining room as we peer at a screen is uncomfortable for both of us. each making ourselves comfortable in our own homes, with a copy each, a speaker phone and google chat open for me to pass sentences to her for appraisal, just seems to work. i don’t want to do it, to bother her when i don’t feel i have enough to show, to rely on my mother, to take up her time. i really need to get over that though, then maybe i could manage to initiate contact more than three days before the absolute final due date, and make it easier on both of us.
she’s a good editor, as pedantic as i am about grammar, style and punctuation, and we’re learning how to disagree. there are times i just want to stand by my long sentence or marked forms, especially when there really is no time left to contemplate non essentials.
she’s also very good at suggesting vocabulary when i’m stuck, i know what the next sentence needs to say but i can’t explain it in under five hundred words. the snippet i type to her might not actually make sense, but it’s logged and won’t float away in my colander brain, and slowly we can shuffle in words, reorganise clauses and finally smooth edges. then i get inspiration and go silent for a while as i work on a totally new sentence using half the old material yet being twice as long and bridging the gap to the next thought. that’s good too.
i can’t express how grateful i am to have help, to not spend any more time sitting alone in absolute meltdown and paralysis. but possibly even more, i’m overjoyed that we’re communicating. i’ve rarely gotten a sense from her that she loved me all that much. or even liked me, for that matter. she’s not the warmest and most open person in the world, though it has been improving. yet when we sit on the phone, i think we’re both trying. we understand eachother on a certain level. we both need that word to be right before we can move on, because it affects what the next one has to do. i can go on for ten minutes about the fine details about why that word just doesn’t express the full implications that i need it to, and she will listen, digest and come up with a suggestion. even if it’s about post modernism or epistemology.
and then we slide into chatting about something, and find out what’s really going on in eachother’s lives. like i like to do with my friends. fancy that!
i still wish for a day when i can write easily enough to it alone. but maybe i shouldn’t worry so much, and should appreciate the opportunity i’m being given. thankfulness is so much more worthwhile than shame.
to my beloved mattress, i hope you enjoy your retirement. you will be sorely missed, no other mattress will ever be quite the same.
i remember the day i found you, on the side of the road somewhere in ryde. kat and i tested out the selection of three mattresses and two bases available on that street, and decided on you despite not being part of a set. we loaded you onto the top of the bug, and a base on top of you, legs in the air. it was starting to sprinkle.
on the way home to epping with you, it started to pour and we sheltered under the roof of a closed petrol station for a while, but eventually made a break for it. when we made it home, one end of you was wet but most was protected by the base. we left you on top of the car in the garage until the next morning, when we took you down to spend a couple of days in the sun.
then it was back onto the car for the long slow trek to kat’s place in silver st, st peters. i’ll never quite forget the feeling of driving oh so slowly up the gladesville bridge and having you trying to lift off at the front. kat was holding you down through the window, and i must’ve been doing the same when i could, while i drove. we got there with only one stop to retie.
you were the best thing in that cockroach infested house, and i was very glad to not have to sleep two of us on a nasty single mattress on the floor. and when kat left the country, nick took over both the room and you. it was only after i had left epping where i had the owner’s bed, and spent another semester overseas, that i reclaimed you from wherever nick had ended up, and took you to breakfast point to be my bed. i didn’t stay there long, but you now went with me wherever i went in australia, staying with my parents when i was overseas and joining me in newtown, back at my parents’ and now here to marsfield.
moving in to this house you got put down in the rain by removalists, but you made it, unlike your base who didn’t fit up the bend in the stairs. you are quite bendy, so you fitted well. you stayed on the floor for a bit, before i found a magnificent bed frame for you. it was a bit damaged and i had to fix the functional issues, but that didn’t take long. i enjoyed having you raised on a beautiful frame, even if your slats were bowed, and they creak.
thank you for six wonderful years. you have been so comfortable that you’ve lured me into spending much too much time on you, trying to do all my work on your softness. for the last few years i’ve noticed a few places where i can feel your springs a bit, and even some sharp points sticking out the ends that only get found when i turn you. sometimes you feel a bit flat in parts, but turning you always made all the difference. however i have been increasingly scared of the day when flipping you over will no longer work and i would have to search for your replacement. maybe even buy one and open a whole new can of worms.
today i saw someone putting out a mattress for the council cleanup, right outside my house. i talked to her and she offered to help bring it to my place if i wanted it. it was in plastic, and she said it had been held hostage by her ex and he’d finally sent all her stuff down, but she’d replaced everything already, so she didn’t need it. it felt quite solid and new, from what you can feel as it stands up. it even stood proud, not that i mind that you bow and sag in the middle if you’re not flat on a surface. you only need to perform when you lie flat.
i had to go, but when i got back a couple of hours later it was still there. i started dragging it, but it’s very heavy. someone tried to help, but her little boy didn’t like being put down. someone else came up, who had been out for some exercise, and was more successful. the choice was made, she helped me bring it all the way in, and take you back out again, to the side of the road. you were much easier to handle, the new mattress doesn’t bend half so well, and is a touch wider too, so it barely fits in the frame. i’m sitting on it now, while you lean by a pole outside. it’s very solid, not nearly as giving as you and your ‘chiropractor approved’ springs. it says it has an extra firm spiral care centre zone designed for maximum support, and i guess i have to trust it, and get used to it. i shouldn’t give in to the impulse to run back out there and pull you in and lay you on top, as much as i want to.
i wish someone else would take you in, but i know people rarely do that, and the reasons this has happened are genuine. it’s not as if you were a young mattress even when we first met. i find this very difficult, but i guess i have to let you go.
so thank you, for six wonderful years. you have given me, and several others, comfort and good sleep. you have met every single one of my partners, and several of my good friends. you have worn my dozen pillows and hand patchworked doona cover with pride. you have been there when i had nothing else comfortable, in a dodgy little purple room with mould on the walls, you have waited for me and my uncertain futures, and you were with me as i spent most of this year establishing myself in somewhere that i actually plan to settle for a while.
i don’t know about your history before ryde, but you’ve been from ryde to epping to st peters to randwick to breakfast point to gladesville to newtown to gladesville to marsfield; from the side of a road to side of a different road not too far away.
i never wanted to have to make the decision of who my mattress is, but it can’t be helped. it’s a natural process that we all get older and our springs start to show a little. i’m not sure that anything good happens to mattresses after they leave, if they don’t get picked up before the end of the cleanup. but we humans also just go to landfill, as much as we sometimes don’t like to say it.
i’m sure that after six years it’s the right decision, and i’m sure i’ll get used to the new mattress, no matter how different it feels. i always have all those pillows to help me forget who’s underneath, if i need to, and ease me gently into the difference. and you’ll still be out there for a day or two in case i panic, even if one corner is sitting in the dirt. i guess if i hadn’t come along six years ago you would’ve gotten rained on right then and that would’ve been that. so is the cycle of mattresses. well, at least on the rare occasion when people look past their mistrust of roadside mattresses.
so thank you again, my mattress. you will live on in memory and be sorely missed. but hopefully not too sorely.
six hours later i come home to find the decision is final. you have been taken home by someone else. i am impressed, you must be an exceptional mattress to be taken home off the roadside twice in this climate of mattress distrust. enjoy.
i am a student again. it hits me when i realise that i have a perpetually open word document where i can type in random scribblings on their way to a more permanent home. in the last three years i have not studied essay subjects, have not bothered to open word often, and have instead written in a variety of notebooks, separated by subject. will i lose that clarity now i again have several partial blog posts, email responses and thoughts sitting in the one document below my essay notes? maybe the integration will make me more productive instead, less able to forget and put aside, for better or for worse.
i am obstinate and have just removed all the capitalisation that word insisted on giving me. it was an easy task, considering all but one instance was the letter ‘i’. the fact that most of the themes refer to myself amuses my linguistically trained mind, but of course it’s all about me, it’s a blog. the action concerns me more than the content. when does acknowledging that there is no particular justification override upholding consistency for its own sake? i struggle with that question probably more than i should. is that the definition of obsessive? am i clinging to displays of identity that nobody else will even notice? should i be doing my readings instead of worrying about it?
back at tafe again
back at my parents’ again
feeling more female again
discovering old friends again
hearing my voice lifting again
talking to people who knew me as a child again
getting close to an old partner again
sorting through forgotten belongings and memories again
letting my hair get longer again
falling into old habits again
but it’s all as an adult, walking around in my old life with recontextualising adult feet. reconciling more aspects of myself, again.
it’s much better than it used to be.
i finally started my long awaited job. now maybe i can start to relax!
it’s been months and months since they told my father they’d employ me and i was given a number to ring. it’s been months since my interview that noone but me turned up to. so much waiting for return of communication, and considering how disastrous my previous job in the field was, the whole thing has been tying me up in knots.
the first day was quite promising, though so was the first day at sca… but here, i got to do a whole project, amongst the computer login troubles and being dismissed with Industrial Noise Policy to read. i got to calculate what glass was required for the windows of a proposed building from just the address, a flight path map and a standard! take one egg, a cat and a length of string… and my report got sent to the client!
so, it looks quite promising. as long as i get enough sleep to get through each day. that means going to bed now…
many people have been telling me recently that i’ve been following patterns, doing the same thing with my current maybe-girlfriend as i have with everyone else in my life. how do i break these patterns? for a start i need to figure out what they actually are. in heavy consultation, i’ve identified two:
i’m always understanding and accommodating. i end up with people who have major problems, and i do my utmost to not let them get in the way, in fact i do my best to help. every time i’m let down i turn around, try to figure out why they did it and try to support them in not needing to act that way again. i’m told how wonderful i am for all this, then they turn around and take advantage of me. lie to me. which brings me to:
i find it imperative to know where i stand. these days i am very clear on this. i emphasise my need for honesty and trust, and ask people to be honest with me even if i’m not going to like what needs to be said. i assume they’ve listened and understood what i said, and i believe it when everyone says yes, from ‘absolutely’ to ‘i’ll do my best’. i get let down. hard. even after i’ve justified and understood and accomodated almost everything. especially when they repeatedly apologise but never change anything, or alternatively change by preventing me from offering the small things i can, whilst continuing to take advantage of me in other ways that don’t even bring me any joy.
i don’t know what to do about either of these. is there some problem with who i choose – not that i ever really do the choosing – or are people to be expected to be like this? if it’s the latter, then how on earth do we have society? how can i live in this world if i’m the only one in the world who finds honesty and kindness important? or am i actually not living up to my own ideals either – do i actually affect people in the same way and just not realise?