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Drifting so long...
So, I'm currently working on my analysis of Teacher's Pet. But it keeps turning into OMG! I love B/X so much, they are the bestest never-quite-a-couple ever! Which, while fun for me, is not so much analysing as it is just plain squeeing. It's the virgin thing. It really does tickle me pink that Buffy assumes that Xander's not a virgin, because he's so very a virgin, you know? And then I go off on the entire B/X thing and how Buffy's view of Xander is actually almost as pedestal-y as his view of her, just in a completely different way. Because it's respect and admiration that lasts through fights and loss and pain and even betrayal.
You know, I think I've figured out why I, personally, am so drawn to that kind of dynamic. Curious people are fascinated by what they don't understand. The sheer bravery involved in being that kind of a friend just amazes me on so many levels. Sexualizing it almost makes it easier to deal with. It takes it out of the realm of the spiritual and makes it earthy and understandable.
Because I started not needing the sex in stories so much once I got a friend like that in person. Because I'm starting to understand how friendship works (yes, wonderful that I'm finally getting this at twenty-two... still, better than never learning). Because I'll just say this here -- my childhood taught me that nothing is stable.
And after this, this will get incredibly personal, so if you don't want to know the details of my issues, last warning.
My dad was in the army. And after... even after he was out, my family wasn't dependable. Alcoholism runs in my family. That's why I don't drink, why seeing people drink makes me uncomfortable. Because I remember my dad punching a hole in the wall. I remember my parents screaming at each other. My dad broke a christmas tree holder. Even hit my mom, just the once.
I was taught not to depend on anyone. Seeing people cry is another thing that makes me intensely uncomfortable. My dad was an angry drunk. My mom was a weepy one. So, I repress and deny until it all builds up too strongly and I break down. And then, I run. Because it was not glossing or anyone else who made me stop posting in Soup. It was my (at the time) uncontrollable fear of rejection. I reject so that I'm not rejected. Stupidest thing ever, but that kind of fear isn't logical.
It took months after the Soup incident before I could open a lj comment without covering my eyes and peeking. I felt pathetic and weak and just so fucking terrified that I'd do something else wrong. Because, yes, I was pissed off at glossing and at everyone who took her side of things, but under it all, I was blaming myself. Because I hadn't yet dealt with a previous issue from my personal life, the one that I let drive me out of my school.
So, I'll talk about that.
Zach and Josh were both new to Portland Lutheran in freshman year. I'd been there in seventh and eighth grade as well, but that was nothing compared to some students, who'd been there since kindergarden. Mom wanted us to go to private school. She wanted the best for us and we were all going to a Lutheran church. Those first two years were fine. I had a couple of close friends through the local church and go along with the girls at school.
I was a loner much of time, because I liked to spend my break in the library. But I wasn't unpopular or disliked. I just drifted in and out of the social groups without really paying attention to it all. I was in the dance class, I had a (small) part in the high school play as an eighth-grader. I was happy.
Freshman year, Zach and Josh started school. They became popular quickly -- Zach in the choir circle, Josh with the athletes. I had some interaction with them, but I didn't think about them much.
One semester, I got straight A's. My aunt Leslie was so proud of me. She was... to me, she was elegance and grace personified. And she'd only had a son, so she spent a lot of time with me. I was her niece and also the only place she really could expend any daughter-orientated instincts that she had. She had a cat, Alexis, and a dog, Zoe. A to Z. I spent so many lazy summer days at her house. We would explore the stream, lie on the grass and watch Zoe run around, and talk. Oh, we talked so much. I had plans and she encouraged. Told me so many wonderful things about myself. And because she believed in me, so did I.
This is possibly where my dislike of that kind of relationship comes from -- the sort where it seems as if one character depends on another's opinion to be happy. Because when my aunt died, I lost myself.
But we aren't there yet.
In the second half of freshman year, newsletters started to appear. It was an 'underground' operation. The first two or so were fairly innocuous. Nothing hurtful about anyone.
Then, one day, I was pulled out of class. The pastor wanted to talk to me. It seems that a new one had popped up and he wanted to let me know about it before I saw it.
Because that one was full of gossip and slander about the teachers, about one of the seniors, and about me.
In retrospect, I'm flattered. That's high company to be in. I was just a lowly freshman and I was getting dissed with the important people.
At the time, I was shocked and horrified.
I never saw one of the newsletters -- they were all destroyed. Before we found out who did it, I received several shows of support from various people. Including Zach. He hugged me and told me that he was so sorry. It wasn't until I found out that he was involved that I really understood why he was so... broken up about it. He'd written the teacher part, Josh had written about me.
To this day, I have no clue why Josh singled me out. The only thing that I can think of is that I never paid him much attention. He was being fawned over by half the class and I was too busy doing other things to really ever notice him.
Zach publicly apologised, in front of the entire school.
Josh sent me a letter over the summer. I don't remember reading it at all, until I went through a bunch of my old things a few months back and found it again. When I moved to my new place, I think. It was an apology.
I was still too hurt to read it at the time, I think. Because they both came back the next year and all was, pretty much, forgiven in the eyes of the school. But not in mine. I was hurt and so I pulled away. Funny, how I see that now. I was still trying, though. I went to classes, I did my work. I tried so hard. And I concentrated so much on work that I didn't notice my friends drifting away.
Until the day that our teacher (as a reward) told us that we could sit anywhere we liked, and I found myself sitting alone. Ouch, huh?
After about two weeks, I finally told my mom, who pretty much hit the roof. But when she talked to the teacher, the teacher refused to change it, because that would be taking away that reward. I spent the rest of that semester doing my Math classwork in the library.
But I was still doing fine in school. I was hurt and I didn't know how to reach out (I'd always just had friends and hadn't a clue how one actually made one), but I was doing fine.
And then my aunt died in a car accident the day after Christmas and my world fell apart.
It took me over four years to even admit that I was angry with her about it. For driving recklessly, for leaving, for being gone.
And in the meantime, I fell completely apart. College didn't mean a damn thing without her there to see me go. Grades didn't mean anything if she wasn't there to tell me why they mattered.
And then my parents were divorcing and I had nothing around me but quicksand.
I was flailing for a lifeline.
Buffy was what I latched onto. I'd been watching and enjoying the show, but it wasn't my life. After my aunt died, it was. It was the only thing holding even the smallest shreds of my world together. I poured my soul into that show and it saved my life.
So, by the time Soup started, I'd been using Jossverse as my anchor for almost seven years. I had no faith in myself, no trust in my writing or my intelligence. I'd taken up cutting as a way to cope with how sucky I felt my life to be.
When the Soup backlash happened, I felt my anchor break away again. Again, the dangers of placing all the eggs in same basket.
And so often, I don't mention the bad things on here. Rather, I mention them in very sanitary terms that don't actually deal with anything.
I don't know if I ever said that my other blood-aunt, Karen, probably died of a drug overdose. We'll never know for sure, since she wasn't deemed important enough for blood tests or any kind of investigation. She was found a few days after she was already dead by her mother, my grandma. I only met her once. She was pretty and nervous and had obvious needle-tracks on her arms. This was before Phil died, so it was a few months before the Soup thing happened.
But yes, I pretty much got upset over it, in very non-specific terms, and then pretended that I was over it when I was still jumping every time that I got a lj comment.
So, my personal breakdown, post-Soup, went kind like this (and this will get very detailed, so again, warning):
I wrote two private posts that day. One was full of anger, the other was a list of good things about myself. Prominant on that is the oft-repeated sentence "I am a good writer". Looking back, it's such a jittery and insecure and hurting list. Especially just reading that sentence. I can remember the desperation I felt, writing that to myself, trying so hard to believe it.
The day after that, I posted a 'disclaimer' post on my lj, where I listed pretty much all the bad things about myself that I could think of. Warning people what they could expect, that I would hurt them the way that I'd apparently hurt glossing.
A couple of weeks after it happened, I cried at work. I posted about it and turned comments off.
I continued to have sporadic moments of depression.
"I just really want to look at an email and not assume that it's bad news. That it'll be a rejection of some kind. How many good things does it take to wipe out one bad? Can you ever wipe out the bad with good? Probably not. It's just... I should not assume that getting an email from someone who has shown that they like me in the past is going to be a rejection of some kind."
I said that on the 31st of October, 2003.
After that, I pretty much buried it.
I kept posting on the RPG until December. I never made an active choice to stop. I just didn't respond and the longer I didn't respond, the easier that it was not to.
Eventually, I got rid of my icon (I've since put it back up so that Alexis appears throughout again), and admitted to myself that I'd run away. Because that's what I do. I reject before I'm rejected. Stupid defense mechanism. Because people were offering support. TBQ very much among them. And I didn't trust it. Because I didn't trust me. I'd fucked up so bad and hadn't realised it. Done something apparently unforgiveable and hadn't realised it until someone pointed it out.
And that was that, for quite a long time. I got used to the anxiety that I felt whenever I posted an entry or got a comment. I had a 'new normal'. I was happy whenever I was watching source or posting my meta and fic. I just didn't feel safe anymore. But that was a feeling I'd known before. It was easy enough to adjust to it again.
I stopped mentioning the bad things, like when I stopped going to college classes. I tried very hard to push away the part of me that wanted to go those places, because people didn't want to see that, see the darkness. I repressed and I did a damn good job.
And whenever I saw glossing's name, as a reference or in passing on someone's flist, I would flinch and scroll past without reading. And I still felt that edge of fear whenever I received a comment.
On June 6th, 2004, I issued an open apology to everyone involved in Soup for running away. Again, with comments turned off.
The important part was this:
So, I repress, and I honestly think that I'm over something. But I never move on, never grieve, because instead of facing my pain, I push it away. So when I see something that reminds me of what happened, it's like a knife in the heart, all over again, just as bad as the first time.
For everyone who was on that particular RPG with me (and for the people who got to know me because they were readers), this is an apology. Because I got hurt, genuinely hurt, pretended that I didn't, and then cut and run to get the fuck away from the source of the pain. Just stopped posting, without explanation. And that's wrong. I'm sorry.
I am very sorry.
Mea culpa.
I got an email because of that. I talked to a couple of people about some stuff for the first time since the beginning of the whole mess.
And that's when I realised where the fear about comments and emails was coming from. Because that's when I found out that I wasn't the only person who'd been hurt by something that glossing had said about them. I realised that my resurgence of insecurity was all wrapped up in what had happened back then.
I started to trust myself again, my own perceptions of myself. For months, I'd been thinking that my view of the world was so incredibly skewed and broken. That I was the only problem. That I'd destroyed Soup (to be melodramatic about it).
And now I know that that isn't true. I was just a person who made a bad judgement call in a certain situation. That was it. And that didn't make me horrible or dumb or evil.
I'd like to extend a huge thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ros_fod for bringing it all into the light. Because it was an enormous... validation to see that I wasn't alone in just being a person who made bad judgement calls when it came to glossing. And that not thinking long enough before writing a comment isn't the same as deliberately alienating and hurting someone. Isn't close.
Plus, I think that seeing her name so many times over the past couple of days has really helped me get over the whole 'instinctive flinch' thing.
You know, I think I've figured out why I, personally, am so drawn to that kind of dynamic. Curious people are fascinated by what they don't understand. The sheer bravery involved in being that kind of a friend just amazes me on so many levels. Sexualizing it almost makes it easier to deal with. It takes it out of the realm of the spiritual and makes it earthy and understandable.
Because I started not needing the sex in stories so much once I got a friend like that in person. Because I'm starting to understand how friendship works (yes, wonderful that I'm finally getting this at twenty-two... still, better than never learning). Because I'll just say this here -- my childhood taught me that nothing is stable.
And after this, this will get incredibly personal, so if you don't want to know the details of my issues, last warning.
My dad was in the army. And after... even after he was out, my family wasn't dependable. Alcoholism runs in my family. That's why I don't drink, why seeing people drink makes me uncomfortable. Because I remember my dad punching a hole in the wall. I remember my parents screaming at each other. My dad broke a christmas tree holder. Even hit my mom, just the once.
I was taught not to depend on anyone. Seeing people cry is another thing that makes me intensely uncomfortable. My dad was an angry drunk. My mom was a weepy one. So, I repress and deny until it all builds up too strongly and I break down. And then, I run. Because it was not glossing or anyone else who made me stop posting in Soup. It was my (at the time) uncontrollable fear of rejection. I reject so that I'm not rejected. Stupidest thing ever, but that kind of fear isn't logical.
It took months after the Soup incident before I could open a lj comment without covering my eyes and peeking. I felt pathetic and weak and just so fucking terrified that I'd do something else wrong. Because, yes, I was pissed off at glossing and at everyone who took her side of things, but under it all, I was blaming myself. Because I hadn't yet dealt with a previous issue from my personal life, the one that I let drive me out of my school.
So, I'll talk about that.
Zach and Josh were both new to Portland Lutheran in freshman year. I'd been there in seventh and eighth grade as well, but that was nothing compared to some students, who'd been there since kindergarden. Mom wanted us to go to private school. She wanted the best for us and we were all going to a Lutheran church. Those first two years were fine. I had a couple of close friends through the local church and go along with the girls at school.
I was a loner much of time, because I liked to spend my break in the library. But I wasn't unpopular or disliked. I just drifted in and out of the social groups without really paying attention to it all. I was in the dance class, I had a (small) part in the high school play as an eighth-grader. I was happy.
Freshman year, Zach and Josh started school. They became popular quickly -- Zach in the choir circle, Josh with the athletes. I had some interaction with them, but I didn't think about them much.
One semester, I got straight A's. My aunt Leslie was so proud of me. She was... to me, she was elegance and grace personified. And she'd only had a son, so she spent a lot of time with me. I was her niece and also the only place she really could expend any daughter-orientated instincts that she had. She had a cat, Alexis, and a dog, Zoe. A to Z. I spent so many lazy summer days at her house. We would explore the stream, lie on the grass and watch Zoe run around, and talk. Oh, we talked so much. I had plans and she encouraged. Told me so many wonderful things about myself. And because she believed in me, so did I.
This is possibly where my dislike of that kind of relationship comes from -- the sort where it seems as if one character depends on another's opinion to be happy. Because when my aunt died, I lost myself.
But we aren't there yet.
In the second half of freshman year, newsletters started to appear. It was an 'underground' operation. The first two or so were fairly innocuous. Nothing hurtful about anyone.
Then, one day, I was pulled out of class. The pastor wanted to talk to me. It seems that a new one had popped up and he wanted to let me know about it before I saw it.
Because that one was full of gossip and slander about the teachers, about one of the seniors, and about me.
In retrospect, I'm flattered. That's high company to be in. I was just a lowly freshman and I was getting dissed with the important people.
At the time, I was shocked and horrified.
I never saw one of the newsletters -- they were all destroyed. Before we found out who did it, I received several shows of support from various people. Including Zach. He hugged me and told me that he was so sorry. It wasn't until I found out that he was involved that I really understood why he was so... broken up about it. He'd written the teacher part, Josh had written about me.
To this day, I have no clue why Josh singled me out. The only thing that I can think of is that I never paid him much attention. He was being fawned over by half the class and I was too busy doing other things to really ever notice him.
Zach publicly apologised, in front of the entire school.
Josh sent me a letter over the summer. I don't remember reading it at all, until I went through a bunch of my old things a few months back and found it again. When I moved to my new place, I think. It was an apology.
I was still too hurt to read it at the time, I think. Because they both came back the next year and all was, pretty much, forgiven in the eyes of the school. But not in mine. I was hurt and so I pulled away. Funny, how I see that now. I was still trying, though. I went to classes, I did my work. I tried so hard. And I concentrated so much on work that I didn't notice my friends drifting away.
Until the day that our teacher (as a reward) told us that we could sit anywhere we liked, and I found myself sitting alone. Ouch, huh?
After about two weeks, I finally told my mom, who pretty much hit the roof. But when she talked to the teacher, the teacher refused to change it, because that would be taking away that reward. I spent the rest of that semester doing my Math classwork in the library.
But I was still doing fine in school. I was hurt and I didn't know how to reach out (I'd always just had friends and hadn't a clue how one actually made one), but I was doing fine.
And then my aunt died in a car accident the day after Christmas and my world fell apart.
It took me over four years to even admit that I was angry with her about it. For driving recklessly, for leaving, for being gone.
And in the meantime, I fell completely apart. College didn't mean a damn thing without her there to see me go. Grades didn't mean anything if she wasn't there to tell me why they mattered.
And then my parents were divorcing and I had nothing around me but quicksand.
I was flailing for a lifeline.
Buffy was what I latched onto. I'd been watching and enjoying the show, but it wasn't my life. After my aunt died, it was. It was the only thing holding even the smallest shreds of my world together. I poured my soul into that show and it saved my life.
So, by the time Soup started, I'd been using Jossverse as my anchor for almost seven years. I had no faith in myself, no trust in my writing or my intelligence. I'd taken up cutting as a way to cope with how sucky I felt my life to be.
When the Soup backlash happened, I felt my anchor break away again. Again, the dangers of placing all the eggs in same basket.
And so often, I don't mention the bad things on here. Rather, I mention them in very sanitary terms that don't actually deal with anything.
I don't know if I ever said that my other blood-aunt, Karen, probably died of a drug overdose. We'll never know for sure, since she wasn't deemed important enough for blood tests or any kind of investigation. She was found a few days after she was already dead by her mother, my grandma. I only met her once. She was pretty and nervous and had obvious needle-tracks on her arms. This was before Phil died, so it was a few months before the Soup thing happened.
But yes, I pretty much got upset over it, in very non-specific terms, and then pretended that I was over it when I was still jumping every time that I got a lj comment.
So, my personal breakdown, post-Soup, went kind like this (and this will get very detailed, so again, warning):
I wrote two private posts that day. One was full of anger, the other was a list of good things about myself. Prominant on that is the oft-repeated sentence "I am a good writer". Looking back, it's such a jittery and insecure and hurting list. Especially just reading that sentence. I can remember the desperation I felt, writing that to myself, trying so hard to believe it.
The day after that, I posted a 'disclaimer' post on my lj, where I listed pretty much all the bad things about myself that I could think of. Warning people what they could expect, that I would hurt them the way that I'd apparently hurt glossing.
A couple of weeks after it happened, I cried at work. I posted about it and turned comments off.
I continued to have sporadic moments of depression.
"I just really want to look at an email and not assume that it's bad news. That it'll be a rejection of some kind. How many good things does it take to wipe out one bad? Can you ever wipe out the bad with good? Probably not. It's just... I should not assume that getting an email from someone who has shown that they like me in the past is going to be a rejection of some kind."
I said that on the 31st of October, 2003.
After that, I pretty much buried it.
I kept posting on the RPG until December. I never made an active choice to stop. I just didn't respond and the longer I didn't respond, the easier that it was not to.
Eventually, I got rid of my icon (I've since put it back up so that Alexis appears throughout again), and admitted to myself that I'd run away. Because that's what I do. I reject before I'm rejected. Stupid defense mechanism. Because people were offering support. TBQ very much among them. And I didn't trust it. Because I didn't trust me. I'd fucked up so bad and hadn't realised it. Done something apparently unforgiveable and hadn't realised it until someone pointed it out.
And that was that, for quite a long time. I got used to the anxiety that I felt whenever I posted an entry or got a comment. I had a 'new normal'. I was happy whenever I was watching source or posting my meta and fic. I just didn't feel safe anymore. But that was a feeling I'd known before. It was easy enough to adjust to it again.
I stopped mentioning the bad things, like when I stopped going to college classes. I tried very hard to push away the part of me that wanted to go those places, because people didn't want to see that, see the darkness. I repressed and I did a damn good job.
And whenever I saw glossing's name, as a reference or in passing on someone's flist, I would flinch and scroll past without reading. And I still felt that edge of fear whenever I received a comment.
On June 6th, 2004, I issued an open apology to everyone involved in Soup for running away. Again, with comments turned off.
The important part was this:
So, I repress, and I honestly think that I'm over something. But I never move on, never grieve, because instead of facing my pain, I push it away. So when I see something that reminds me of what happened, it's like a knife in the heart, all over again, just as bad as the first time.
For everyone who was on that particular RPG with me (and for the people who got to know me because they were readers), this is an apology. Because I got hurt, genuinely hurt, pretended that I didn't, and then cut and run to get the fuck away from the source of the pain. Just stopped posting, without explanation. And that's wrong. I'm sorry.
I am very sorry.
Mea culpa.
I got an email because of that. I talked to a couple of people about some stuff for the first time since the beginning of the whole mess.
And that's when I realised where the fear about comments and emails was coming from. Because that's when I found out that I wasn't the only person who'd been hurt by something that glossing had said about them. I realised that my resurgence of insecurity was all wrapped up in what had happened back then.
I started to trust myself again, my own perceptions of myself. For months, I'd been thinking that my view of the world was so incredibly skewed and broken. That I was the only problem. That I'd destroyed Soup (to be melodramatic about it).
And now I know that that isn't true. I was just a person who made a bad judgement call in a certain situation. That was it. And that didn't make me horrible or dumb or evil.
I'd like to extend a huge thank you to
ros_fod for bringing it all into the light. Because it was an enormous... validation to see that I wasn't alone in just being a person who made bad judgement calls when it came to glossing. And that not thinking long enough before writing a comment isn't the same as deliberately alienating and hurting someone. Isn't close.Plus, I think that seeing her name so many times over the past couple of days has really helped me get over the whole 'instinctive flinch' thing.