pragmaticality
Every day, with every success, and with every failure, I gain a bit more clarity.
Last night, I attended a couple of group events, and I think I found a new edge.
Group things overwhelm me unless I’m able to work in my own flow within the group.
Being near and around water calms me on a spiritual level.
The first group event is what sets the stage. It was a Full Moon rowing event, and it was so lovely. That night was a Full Moon Eclipse in Pisces, and even though I don’t fully understand what that means, energetically, it put me in a really, deeply emotional, place of presence. Very Piscine.
Being on the water at night is actually an experience that used to scare me, and for good reason, but it was so soothing last night. And being able to move over it, watching how my rows, combined with the rows of others, moved us effortlessly across the nature’s glassy foundation.
I felt so centered and excited and just high on life after the rowing, after seeing the moon in its full force, after sliding across the glassy water. I felt so rooted in my joy, like everything was vibrant and full of color.
And, while I could write about this all day, the real purpose for this post is clarity I gained from the second group event.
After rowing, a couple of us went to join a bigger group at a Brazilian Steakhouse.
I don’t really like to eat red meat that much, at least in the States… but whatever the fuck they do in Mexico and Brazil combined have changed my perspective on meat, entirely. I simply can’t get enough of meat when I’m in Brazil - I genuinely crave it. It is quite literally a need to it it’s juicy, savory, goodness.
So, naturally, a group steak dinner sounded like a fab idea.
And, I did have a great time. But…there was one curve ball, and it ended up being my demise….
FMOMD was in the dinner group.
FMOMD and I have had plenty of group dinners at this point, but he or I have been pretty good at finding spots an opposite sides of the table, or at different tables, because that just makes the dinner more enjoyable.
Not this time, though. Despite the group being large, the sitting arrangement is what ended up doing me in. The only spots open were next to him, or across. So I went with across.
The dinner went mostly well, regardless. The food was fucking phenomenal (of course), and I was still high on life. I genuinely thought nothing could take away my joy and hope and excitement.
And then…. as fate would have it….. we all started talking about dating, and dating strategies.
And recent dates.
I guess he’s been dating around here, and having a great time with it. And one of the girls at the table was talking about how she wanted to approach men, more, and make the first move… which happens to be what I actually did with FMOMD…. and happens to be something he specifically told me he was not down with. In that moment, though, FMOMD was nothing but supportive of this girl’s sentiment, and encouraged her to do so.
I basically spit out my food in just absolute disappear and (unrecognized) rage. Clearly, to me, this confirmed that it didn’t matter what the fuck I did or didn’t do; he simply did not have a strong enough interest in me. Processing the tandem of finding out he has been enjoying his recent dates AND with the renewed validation that I will simply never be chosen by him, while also trying to be fun and light and happy to hang out with everyone, was simply not within my wheelhouse to maintain.
My pride got the best of me….
I had to interject and advise her against being more bold with men. I had to say that I’ve done this a 1000x over, and some men feel emasculated by it, and before I knew it, I heard myself saying that they inevitably write you off because they “don’t know how to handle the intensity”. Something FMOMD literally said word-for-word to me the other day.
Whhhyyyyyyy???
Obviously, only he and I knew what I was talking about. Was I purposely being a piece of passive aggressive shit? No, truthfully, but damn did my subconscious just take the lead on that one. In my shame, embarrassment, and complete inability to control the volume of my voice (I swear to god, it felt like I was yelling…), I just kept talking.
And talking… and talking… Would simply not shut up, despite all conscious desires to do so.
I just kept vomiting out more and more words. what did I say? Who the fuck knows. Basically nothing of value. It was like a fucking train crash that, post crash, somehow just kept skating by on the tracks, causing more destruction.
I just couldn’t hold me tongue….
To my dismay, the word vomit genuinely didn’t stop until I was well at home, sitting - not standing - under a hot shower and trying to wrap my mind around what the fuck had just happened…..
FMOMD and I cannot be friends. Period.
I don’t want to fucking hear about him being happy with other women. Not one ounce of me. I’d be totally down to hear how he’s suffered, how he’s suffering. That Mars in Scorpio I have is no fucking joke. I’m quite literally not down with hearing about his happiness in his choice to basically sideline and remove me from his life. I’m only interested in hearing about his pain.
And that’s not a foundation for friendship.
That’s not respectful towards masculine vulnerability, something I’m deeply committed to learning about and supporting.
For the men who I am close friends with, I’m one of their confidants just as much as they are one of mine. We talk about all things, dating including, romantic successes, included, support through conflicts with loved ones. We are allies to each other in the deepest sense, even if that means fighting for each other when we fail to fight for ourselves. There’s this bond that is unspoken, but consistent and present.
In respect for the incredible male friendships that I am humbled with gratitude to have, as well as reverence for my own ideals, I have allowed myself to accept that there is nothing left for me here with the FMOMD dynamic.
Some breaks can’t be healed. And if I acknowledge that, and let it be what it is, then I can stay in line with the ideals that I hold for myself, and how I choose to show up in the lives of my friends, men or otherwise.
And, for me, extreme and complete silence is a type of break that I do not have the infrastructure within to combat. I can’t. The break is so complete, so extreme, and so painful for me to heal from. It’s sort of like when the Witch King stabs Frodo; it takes magic for him to heal enough to live, and even still, he was never the same. The more honest I am with that that is how weaponized silence impacts me, the more nurturing and loving I can be to myself.
Group dinners like that are absolute torture because I was pretending like there was a friendship possible there…. but it was at my personal cost, and to be honest, the price is too high for a low quality offer. A friendship with someone who has used silence to avoid me or box me out or whatever the reasoning is simply someone I cannot rely on. There’s no base of trust to build on, anymore, at least not for me.
Thank god for Lucid Dreaming, because it gave me the opportunity last night to see this situation, this life chapter, this month, with more imagery.
When I was sleeping, I had this lucid dream of watching someone on a cross, dying. As I looked at this man, I could feel the old parts of me within him, currently dying. He was slowly withering away under the elements, from starvation, and from dehydration. There was a finality to it, like even if he was cut down, he was already on death’s doorstep.
Then, I saw another man approach the man on the cross. This man was round, pink with joy, lavishly dressed and full of life, which was a stark contrast to the withering, dying, man on the cross. The lavish man was bursting with laughter, exclaiming how wonderful it was to see the man before him.
At first, I wondered if the lavish man was happy because the other was on a cross, but twas not so. The lavish man was in complete delusion to the reality of the circumstances he found his ‘friend’ in, in what can only be described as a sharp and complete lack of understanding (and respect) for what was happening. Without attempting to tie the man down, the lavish men tried to fed him equally lavish foods, wines, and water, proclaiming loyalty and deep care for him. He was overjoyed to be reunited, and expressed interest in wanting to see him more often, and rekindle their lost friendship. The lavish man did not appear to be malicious, but it was clear that he was entirely unwilling to acknowledge the reality of the scene in front of him, because it was too uncomfortable for him to take in. “If that man could end up on a cross, could I as well?” It was a reality too intense to look into, so he simply chose not to.
Watching the scene, it was clear to me that this analogy fit how I felt about FMOMD coming back into my life.
Going through the death process is hard work. It sucks, actually. But, similar to how Christ chose to be on the cross, I also chose to allow these parts of myself to die, too.
I’m not on the cross because of FMOMD. I’m there because I want to be. I’m there because I’m willingly allowing those parts of me to die, so I can move on to a new phase, a new perspective, a new reality of my life.
And FMOMD coming back into my life, with all his good intentions for peace, doesn’t align with where I am going, in any semblance of the word.
He can’t come with me because he does not have a role in my future. Because his role in my future was dependent on him allowing his own death and rebirth to take place. His own cross moment. And, he chose not to. As we are all allowed to do. He might choose later, and that’s lovely. But our paths being in sync were dependent on timing, were dependent on specific windows of opportunity, and we both simply made different choices.
As it is, now, our chosen levels of awareness in reality are genuinely incompatible. And, if I don’t allow this to be what it is, and to allow it to leave my life, I will continue to watch myself spiral. Because it requires me to live out of the parts of myself that are dying…. which is not where my strength lies. My strength is in the rebirth, and I haven’t made it to that plane of existence, yet.
So, will I continue to watch myself become Dr. Frankenstein, trying to revive what has long since past?
OR
Will I treat these parts with the respect that they deserve, and allow this chapter to close with dignity?
Either way, I’m on death’s doorstep. These parts of me are laying to rest….whether I’m ready, or not.