I'm returning to this blog without informing anyone, the very few who had visited before, more than two years ago. I suppose I have a compulsion to share publicly and exaggerate the value of my own thoughts. And then I quickly swing to regret. I take back everything I said aloud and worry about what a fool I am. So maybe this is a solution, something public in an obscure way, that no one will ever find, or return to, and therefore private.
Right now I'm walking the line of realizing my downfalls as friend, and wife, without launching into utter despair and self-loathing. It seems as though my mother's insecurities are genetic and beyond reprogramming sometimes. Her hostility toward other women, her near constant fear of being left out, the constant struggle to fake acceptance and kindness when in actuality she is miserable and pissed for all the injuries inflicted upon her. I inherited them all, with my own special flavor. These days, I have hostility toward women who behave irrationally. I damn women who let their emotions take over. Its even too obvious to say, but I will. I struggled so hard to gain stability, which I'm proud of, yes, but seem to have lost compassion for how I used to be (and sometimes still am!). It is intolerable to me... the thought that I might ruin my relationships with my own insecurity, and it's intolerable in other woman, and I hate them and it and irks me beyond reason.
And my other pattern of too close relationships with women that end in total (acrid) abandonment. Either she or I get to the point of no return. How? Each situation had their own details, but what is this pattern?
I'm in one of those exasperated moments, where I want to throw down my ... what? books, sword, plate? whatever I'm holding and just scream "Fuck it" I AM SO GODDAMN TIRED of being oversensitive, misunderstanding, ruining things from the inside out, flailing myself over and over again for all of it.
And I'm married now, and it all has so much more weight. Try not to fuck it up Gwen. I don't have a choice but to try and murder my mother's legacy one imaginary insult at a time. And I hate that the answer is so fucking trite.