Better day today. We got our tree--our "Solstice" Tree...I remember some Pagan back in Boulder trying to maintain that decorating a tree really began as a Pagan custom and I suppose it COULD have; like bringing in evergreen to keep the sun alive and make sympathetic magic for spring--and started doing some decorating. Started the Christmas Spirit Altar. I think I feel more of the spirit of the season than I have in a long time. More than last year, certainly, when I was so depressed I couldn't feel much of anything at all.
It's really an amazing thing being, if not copmpletely free, than freer of depression than I've been in my life. When my shrink (sorry Dr. Good, but it's quicker to write than Psychiatrist all the time) finally hit on a proper diagnosis and the right meds it was like...wow, I can feel things and everything doesn't seem so hopeless and meaningless. Being not crazy--and yes, I know it's politically incorrect these days to use that word; "It's not a helpful word," they say, nor is psychotic or any of those old Bedlammy terms--being not crazy I can see for the first time in my life how crazy I WAS. And it astounds me that no one else saw it. Which makies me wonder how many severely disturbed people are wandering around out there with no clue, and no one else has a clue. I know at least a few. And I know a few who are aware and want to stay exactly where they are, which I can't understand.
My therapist--as opposed to my shrink--says these people aren't really happy, but if they think they are, what's the difference? I know this one woman (come to think of it I know several, but let's not go there); I've known her a long time, and I can see all her defense mechanisms and I know where they came from and I think, "I wouldn't want to live like that..." But she gets by just fine. And I wonder if she has any idea what it would be like to take a risk to change. I don't think she's the person she really wants to be inside. But again, if she thinks she is, who is anyone else to say as long as she doesn't murder anyone or abuse anyone? Except, I think she is abusive. It's just so many people don't recognise abuse unless it literally hits them in the face. They can excuse it, say it's just the way she is, say, "Well, she has issues with this particular activity but I can still be her friend in other ways," and don't see how her behavior is sucking the life out of them.
I see this not just around this person, but around lots of people. Women can tell me horrendous stories about how controlling and negating their husbands or boyfriends are, and don't think of it as abuse. Somehow, abuse means being hit. And even then, women will turn it on themselves and take the blame. I guess men do this too, but I've known fewer men in abusive relationships.
I used to agonise over the fact that none of my relationships lasted more than like 2 weeks--it was because I wasn't good enough or smart enough or cool enough, or I was too fat or I was too weird. Then I realised those men I was with weren't treating me well anyway, and I was probably just as well off having them dump me because I didn't need that shit. I had enough for the first 18 years of my life from various sources. I don't want any more.
But I never had to break up with anyone, except once. Maybe I have the power of exhuding some pheremone that drives of unworthy men; I don't know. Maybe if I'd had to do the breaking up with someone I still loved eventhough I knew he wasn't good for me more often, I'd have got as stuck as some of the other women around me. I think I'd still have left, though. I have an incredible capacity to get out of bad relatio nships no matter how much I hurt over it. I am not afraid of pain. How could I be after all these years? My therapist says, "this is one of your amazing skills!" but I don't know if I feel like it's a skill when I end up alone and friendless so much of the time.
I found out today that this young woman I knew slightly had died. I don't know what happened. I knew she was in poor health, but I didn't think it was that poor. I feel so much sympathy for her mom. She had a toddler, too. I don't know why, but I can't stop thinking about her. So Monica, if you're anywhere ou can be aware, my heart is with you.
I have been fiddling with font size on this blog because it always comes out so small. But then I learned that if you press "CTRL" and spin your nouse wheel, you can change the apparent font size yourself. So there you are, in case you didn't know.