That's rather frightening, isn't it? I've been thinking. About a lot of things.
I've been reading a book called "Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom" and it has made me think. Sometimes I don't like thinking. It brings up too many bad thoughts and memories.
In a roundabout way, all this sort of leads into why I haven't been able to write lately. It's very odd and hard to explain but in my own convoluted way I can understand it all perfectly now. Of course HE says, "Just because you can't imagine a happy ending doesn't mean no one ELSE can." Then I get his patented look of disgust. Shut up already!
So why have things been bothering me lately? What do I enjoy and why? Why don't I want a boyfriend?
It boils down to I'm pretty selfish and I cannot stand the thought of being dependent on anyone else for my safety. Pretty simple, huh?
Anyway - what brought all this on was the book - they got to the part of pregnancy and it made me think about the only time I ever had the "kids" discussion seriously with a guy.
The thought of being pregnant terrifies me. At no other time are you so utterly helpless really. Kids, fine. I can deal with that - grown kids. But the actual getting gigantic fat and unable to defend yourself (or have a diminished capacity to) just terrifies me.
Probably because I don't think any guy WOULD ever help me if I were that helpless. They never did before. So why would they now?
When I was about 16, my younger brother was into serious drugs and used to verbally and physically abuse my mother and me. (Not so much physical as I could still beat the shit out of him. And people wonder why I'm so mean). My dad did nothing to protect us. He blamed US for "enraging" my brother. Therefore, I pretty much don't trust any man to help me. When I needed protection, it wasn't there.
I felt like the two of us had been abandoned emotionally by who should have been our protector and that just is NOT going to happen again. Period. I will preserve my personal freedom at any cost. Die on your feet or live on your knees.
And the individual I had spoken to about having kids really didn't care about ME. He just wanted someone to pop out his babies so he could "be like his friends". Yeah. Leave me to rot once you got what you wanted. I don't think so.
Given a choice - I'd much rather be alone. That way I don't HAVE to trust anyone. It's just ME. And I can take care of myself.
Who is going to be there for me? I trust the ice. It never lies and it's always there when I need it. It loves no one but ME. (Hey, it's my twisted reality, deal with it!)
So Mr. Wicked and I have been arguing on and off for the past two weeks around my inability to grasp that maybe HE might not be this way toward Annowe. His opinion is "It's MY story and that is NOT the way it is." And my opinion is "I don't believe that crap."
Back and forth we go - he insisting that just because *I've* never experienced somethings doesn't mean they cannot exist. Intellectually I understand this. Emotionally I do not and it is very hard for me to grasp. How can I write about something if I cannot grasp it? I don't have the words. How could I describe the taste of lobster when I'm allergic to shellfish and never had it? I mean, if I can't bring myself to believe in him, how can I write it so everyone else does, too?
More and more I've come to rely on him to help me and I hate him for it. I resent his smug-ass smirk and I hate the fact that I NEED him. Good GAWHD ALMIGHTY that burns me on so many levels. I just want to bang my head against the wall in frustration.
Better yet, I'd like to bang HIS head against the wall in frustration. That would help a bit.
The Rogue Goddess saw shadows dancing at 9:05 PM
2 Comments:
That explains a lot.
think of it this way nephy...
bang his head against the wall means you feel better sans headache. maybe then he won't be so smug.
mg
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