I have really been letting this blog go slack lately and I apologize. I know I don’t have that many readers in the first place, but at the rate I’m going that’s hardly going to change for the better. Know that I am still here and at this point I have no intention of letting this blog die.
It’s just that sometimes I get caught up in personal drama and it diverts my energies away from more positive ends to become a Sucking Vortex Of Doom™. And that’s what’s happened in the past several days, I’m sorry to report.
I think I mentioned here several weeks ago that I had signed up for an account at Reunion.com and discovered that someone had been looking for me, and that upon plugging a certain person’s name into Google and locating him at Classmates.com,
I realized I had been searched for by an old lover and Army buddy. (OK, I might not have gone into that much detail on who he was, but now you get the idea.) So I left a message for him at Classmates and about two weeks ago, give or take, he left me a response.
I was actually pretty excited at first. Now, when we got involved back then it was not under the best of circumstances, but that was pretty much the story of my life at that point (in fact, it was the story of my life until fairly recently where “romance” was concerned), and I figured that with thirteen and a half years of life under the bridge, anyone can change in that amount of time.
It’s a sad, sordid tale, and if you’re really curious I suppose you can go dig up my personal blog and read it for yourself. The main point is, I think, that being faced with the possibility of seeing him again disturbed what emotional equilibrium I’d managed to achieve and sustain for the past several months–again, where “romance” is concerned–and it rattled me to the teeth.
I am someone who gets all sappy and schmoopy and miserable and depressed when it looks like I am about to be rejected in some way. I thought I had grown a bit beyond being this kind of person but I found out otherwise in this particular situation and it was an unpleasant realization to say the least.
(I know it’s normal to feel disappointed when one is rejected. I go well beyond simple disappointment, I’m afraid. We’re talking endless obsession coupled with self-loathing and constant second-guessing of myself, him, his motives, my motives, what it all means, and so on and so forth, ad infinitum et ad nauseam. It is disturbing to watch, and even more disturbing to experience.)
I suppose I achieved some small victory, however. I found that I could accurately assess the situation for what it was, call him on his shit, cut the “reunion” short and cut off all contact with him–and I’m more or less OK in the aftermath.
Considering that I used to face situations like this by making all manner of excuses for the guy’s behavior and then pushing myself very hard to change my own desires and expectations to make myself more appealing to him even at the expense of my own self-worth (which, of course, never works–even the biggest schmuck can smell the lack of personal integrity a mile away and is repelled by it), this is progress.
If I could now evolve to the point where this sort of episode doesn’t hurt anymore, that would be better still.
The only question now is whether I keep his old photos or consign them to the circular file, I suppose. I think I’ll keep them. I haven’t been disrespected, lied to, or taken for granted yet by a piece of paper and I don’t anticipate it happening any time soon.