On echoes, self-sufficiency, and trust.
I have an interesting history, when it comes to asking for help.
Like most histories, its full of shitty things that shouldn't have happened, sordid details that multiple parties would rather just sweep under the rug, and thankfully, also a handful of genuinely wonderful and inspiring moments.
The process of me asking for help is usually a long and complicated one. this shit has flowcharts.
But if I were try and enumerate it into a straightforward and digestable list (as facets of history so often are), i think it would look something like this:
1: Realise that there's a problem.
1a: Admit that there's a problem, at least internally.
2: Figure out if I care about it enough to do something.
3: Figure out what I need in response to the problem.
3a: Realise I was wrong about whatever I just figured out; think about it some more.
3b: Loop back around to the original realisation; probably get angry about it.
3c: Experience some moment of empathy that kills the anger and likely brings me back to 3a.
3ab: Think about it some more.
3ac: Think about it some more. Go for a walk. Engage in self-destructive activity of choice; currently cigarettes.
3d: Write an angry blog post about it (cause yes, we're back at anger) and then don't post it, because that would be too easy. Indirect communication or not, that would be letting them1 win.
3e: Having written that blog post, allow 2-6 hours to pass and discover I feel better about it such that I'm not longer that angry, just... sad.
3f: Realise that we're up to 3f, and I still haven't actually figured out what I need here.
3g: Think about it some more.
Intermission: Cigarette break.
4: Concoct some half-assed plan that may or may not include actually talking to people about this, but probably does include going for another walk and being vaguely cagey with people because I know I need to talk about it, but I still haven't figured out what it is.
5: Initiate half-assed plan.
6: ???
7: Profit!
... ... ...
As I said. Straightforward and digestible, just like most history.
Notice how I haven't actually asked for help by the end of that?
If I'm lucky, the half-assed plan results in someone realising that something is up for long enough that they sit down and nudge me into talking about it, which has its own 200 page instruction manual.
First, get me to admit there's a problem (externally).
Next, convince me it's worth talking about, and okay to talk to you about, and that you care and you want to hear it, and (most importantly) no you're not going to explode and die because of it.
Then wait for a bit, while I mull on this. While I fight through the layers of cellophane clinging to my every thought.
Finally, hope that whatever I end up saying makes sense, and is something we can work on together, and doesn't make you explode and die.
And this is why nothing ever really gets helped. Cause who has the patience for that?
It's okay. I don't blame you. That's the whole point of this post.
I don't blame you.
There's reasons I'm like this, after all.
- - - - - -
Once upon a time, I was in a long-distance relationship. Everybody already knows this, cause I won't fucking shut up about it.
It lasted about two years. For most of it, I told myself that I was very happy. For some of it, I was very happy.
There was one sorta major problem we had though. One really cool way that our respective mental illnesses probably had us set up to flunk it from the start.
She Wanted To Be A Good Partner.
I Trusted Her.
...
Oh, you're not immediately seeing the issue? Weird. Let me explain, then.
My partner was the kind of person who they list in the references section on the "Eldest Daughter Trauma" page of the DSM5.2
When I had a problem, it had to be her problem. She could Fix Me, after all. I was always encouraged to come talk to her about what was wrong, especially if it was her fault.3
Of course, her mental health wasn't any better than mine most of the time. She had a shitty mom, an equally shitty job, schoolwork to do, social rituals to perform, and the most fucked up gender crisis I have ever seen in a cis woman.
So did she have space for my problems? Absolutely not.
But... did she keep telling me she did?
Did she keep asking that I come to her with things, never hide anything from her, always start the conversation no matter what?
Did she insist that she was okay, the golden child, the unfailing and unflinching support?
Yeah. She did.
Did I see how it was killing her?
Yeah. I did.
...but did I Trust Her, despite everything, because she kept telling me it was alright and that she could handle it and that she wanted to be there for me and Be A Good Partner?.
Yeah, I did. Of course I did. I Trusted Her.
On October 5th, 2023, approximately 10:20am my time, we broke up. And I never heard from her again, despite everything we promised each other to the contrary.
I'm.. not in a place mentally and physically where I can expend energy on another human being as much as I've been while being together with you, no matter how much I've tried. I know you can't help it, and i don't blame you for it, but the care and attention you need isn't something I can give anymore, not without expense to myself.
But... im tired Hana. I'm not okay enough to be the person you need me to be, I don't think I'll ever be able to be that person again, either.
When you said forever, I cried. I know in my heart that this isn't working between us, and while I tried so damn hard to be happy and be there for you and give you what you needed, I couldn't do it. I felt horrible because I knew this would happen eventually and so yeah I pretended, at least a little bit so I could feel like I wasn't living a lie myself. It's been a long time coming. It's just gotten to a point where I have no energy for anything, including people.
I don't think we can fix this.
I'm not sure if I want to.
I'm burnt out, I've got nothing left to give you.
I'm sorry Hana, but it's for the best.
I hope you'll find someone who can love you properly one day, better than me at least if anything
...Does it make sense now?
One of the last things I ever told her was that I would learn how to stand on my own. Learn how to not need others for emotional support all the time.
Learn to be self-sufficient, even in isolation.
I'm not sure if she ever read it, but I tried to do it anyway. In... some ways, I think I've gotten better.
But not enough, it seems.
This morning I read a friend's blog post, and a part of me felt like I was back there in an echo of October 5th, 2023, 10:20am or so.
In so many ways, I'm still making all the same mistakes I always have.
I don't know anymore if I can fix myself. I don't know if I believe I can be better.
But I know it's not anyone else's fault. I know I'm not upset, and I don't blame you, and I hope you can take the space you need to get better.
I still love you. I think I always will.