all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (Susan)
Today I had to spend rather more time than I would have liked fighting down the urge to do something recklessly stupid. You know, like getting back in contact with Kris. Because nothing could possibly go horribly, destructively wrong there. Nope, not at all.

On the one hand, it's partially motivated by the optimistic little part of my brain that always says, "But maybe this time will be different!" The other hand, though, is that I'm jumping at shadows because damn it there are suddenly a lot of really tall guys who look sort of Kris-ish from the back around, and at least if I was in touch with him in a very vague sort of way I would know where not to go. Because although my resolution to walk away and do the barest minimum of looking back possible is reasonably strong, I'm pretty sure it would suffer serious damage (or possibly even total collapse) if I actually ran into him.

I kind of wish I didn't know that about myself, but there it is. He's still Kris, and we did have some good times, and I will always, always want to try to get back to those. The way things have been, I've been able to balance that against the knowledge that those good times amounted to maybe a year and a half altogether (at least on my end of things), taken out of the decade-ish that we've known each other, and we spent all the rest of that time bashing each other to bits. With him gone, I can get enough distance to look at it and decide that the good times aren't enough to balance out the horrible unhappiness we caused each other. Add him back in, and my judgement goes out the window.

Argh. See how awful that is? I mean, I know I tend to make decisions based more on emotion than on logic and I've pretty much come to terms with it, but the fact that my brain is cut out of the decision-making process entirely when dealing with Kris first-hand is just embarrassing. So this is my making-the-best-of-bad-choices shitty solution: to just keep on acting like nothing has changed. Not even popping in long enough to say "Hey, this whole pretending-the-other-doesn't-exist thing has been working out really well for me, let's keep it up. Thanks!"

I think that's the part I really feel the worst about. I think I owe him at least that much--5 minutes to say that when it was good, it was really good, but mostly it was really bad and maybe just walking away is the best possible choice all around. But I'm afraid that if I even type "hello," I won't be able to say the rest, because the irrational part of my mind that thinks this time everything will work out will take over instead.

It won't work. We've smashed that relationship, that affection and that trust, into a thousand pieces so many times that there's not enough of it left to put back together, and I don't think either of us can ever really forget that feeling. And even if we could, we're just not that well matched. We never really had a relationship as equals, and I'm pretty sure that the way I respond emotionally before I respond logically drove him out of his skull most of the time. God knows the way he almost always responded calmly and logically drove me out of mine.

Obviously, I have Lots Of Feelings about this. This entry is, in fact, already at least three paragraphs longer than I thought it would be, because I didn't realize how many Feelings I had until I actually sat down and started writing. And of course, all of this is just about my side of the equation. I haven't even thought about what I'll do if he tries to get in touch with me. Granted, I don't really think he will. Reaching out was pretty much always my job in our relationship. Either he's just not good at it, or he wasn't invested enough to bother, but either way I don't think temptation in that particular guise is going to rear its head. On that front, at least, I feel safe.

Ok, I'm think I've finally run out of Feelings for the moment. Having put it all out there at least helps me come to grips with the internal conflicts I've got going over this whole thing. (And oh, am I torn. I think I'm making the right decision, but it's not the decision I want to make. The decision I want to make is impossible, though, because we can never go back. We can only ever go forward.)

PS: Thanks for listening, whoever reads that whole thing. You rock.
all_strange_wonders: An illustration of Nita from the Young Wizards story "Uptown Local". (going mad)
Ever just had one of those "fuck my life" weeks? 'Cause I definitely am. Besides this lovely little depressive episode that I only noticed when it decided to go up an order of magnitude in intensity, a late paper, and sleeping through three different alarms this morning and thus reaching my quota of times I can miss yoga without failing the class, I just found out that a close family friend had a stroke on Monday. He had to have brain surgery, and now he can't talk, but this is apparently not as bad as it could be, because his doctor says he should be either dead or paralyzed.

Fuck. My. Life. So hard. Everything can stop being shitty any time now. Any time at all.

And tomorrow I have to go ask my Methods professor for an extension on turning in the rough draft of my historiographical paper on the grounds that personal shit is severely screwing up my ability to concentrate. Or, y'know, do anything but lie in bed reading fanfic, because that's about the only thing that makes me feel any better right now. I do not have enough spoons* for any of this right now. I don't have enough to explain it to people, and I don't have enough to deal with it.

*Spoon Theory. Most people use the Spoon Theory for describing physical illness or disability that I've seen, but I definitely have only a limited number of mental spoons when I'm depressed. And the more stress or anxiety or guilt is attached to a task, the more spoons it takes to accomplish it. Asking my favorite professor to be my thesis advisor, for example, took like half of my available spoons because I spent so much energy freaking out about the idea that she might say no--even though the tiny rational part of my brain knew she wouldn't. So that day I really didn't get much else productive done, because I used the rest of my spoons doing my assigned readings for the next day.

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