Last night I did my first additional hours of work at B&N. It was fine. No complaints at all. It is in New Jersey, but is still only 15 miles away from my NYC apartment, so my get-home time at 11:45 landed me in the neighborhood in fifteen minutes. Especially at that hour of the night. So I'll be keeping the job and am looking forward to the additional weekly paychecks.
Additionally, I went to the gym between my day job and my new night job, and I'm not feeling any physical repercussions today. So hooray for my nearly-43 year old body.
And speaking of my body, I was thinking of my toxic friend again. Last night at 1:30AM I got a call from him, and a message was left--but there were no words. So one of two things happened. 1) He read this blog and was highly bothered, and called me, but decided against it when it was time to leave a message. Or 2) His phone dialed mine by accident. I mention him and my body in the same paragraph because part of his call to me on Sunday included a rant at me about the food I was eating when our gaming group was together on Saturday and additionally, he wanted to know what I had eaten that Sunday before his call. It went like this; "What's the matter with you, huh? What's wrong with you? *waiting to hear my response* Don't you know that stuff is poison? You're going to wind up as a statistic."
This is his style of caring. Aggressive. I'm not receptive to that personality style. I didn't understand that there was caring going on there until much later. (What is it now, 3 days ago?) Instead, all he made me do was get defensive. So yeah. I'm obviously attracted to bossy, verbally-abusive people but my relationships with them inevitably wind up broken. This is a pattern set up for me by my caretakers (read: parents) from way long ago.
I suppose I'll call Mr. Toxic later to find out why my phone rang last night, and I also suppose I'll still be friends with him if that's what he wants, but I also have to tell him what I've been feeling lately. I need to give him the information he needs to either use on my behalf, or to scorn me with. The same way I do when I blog. I love the encouragement --absolutely need it, in fact-- but I know I'm also opening myself up to some ridicule, some aggression, some impatience, and a liberal sprinkling of intolerance. And I can accept that.
And on death; I think when people have a good amount of life under their belts, and opportunities to learn how to cope with loss, then they can handle death better. I'm not one of those people. The fact is simple--I've been experiencing loss from the age of six--or less. Loss of innocence. Loss of security. Loss of love. So now for me, experiencing loss is like taking a drug. My physical body actually takes a blow. And I know this is common--I'm sure of it. This is what crying is--a physical reaction to emotions. But it takes longer for me to recover. It's real and it's just awful.
My therapist helped me understand this thing when I talk to her about my fears and stumbling blocks about relationships. She does it so easily, too! She just uses one or two sentences to remind me of my own past experiences, and boom! I recognize the origins of why I feel what I feel (see Loss; One paragraph above).
My challenge is to find ways to cope. Blogging is definitely one of those ways. Some of the heaviness--the thickness in my chest and the preoccupation in my head--actually does get managable after I've typed out what I'm feeling. So I'm going to go ahead and keep on doing that. And when the mood around here gets heavy, you can know (as we like to say in the 'hood) "I'm just going through some thangs!"
I value your patience and concern. It feels a lot like love.
So that's alright then.