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4/10/2002 -- Unspoken and Hasty Words
Primary Influence: Five of Cups
I finally understand what my Tarot deck has been trying to tell me since I bought it. It's been trying to remind me of something that I have to do.... and doing it involves telling a story.
The Critic took my heart and stabbed it the other week. She made me angrier than I've been in months, so angry that I could hardly breathe, let alone type. I don't think she realizes how much she hurt me. Just like I'm sure she doesn't think I realize how much I hurt her.
Here's how I'd break it down, and I'm trying as hard as I can to not bias my own memory with what I want to have happened. Prior to the Event, the Critic had spent the last several months of her life making radical changes. She found a new place, new people... and both of these things worried me, but not any more than I'd say was healthy for a good friend. What bothered me a lot was that she had moved out a) without really telling me about it [I remember distinctly her AIMing me with a message along the lines of "Guess what? I'm 5000 miles away!"] and b) without any real plan for what to do with her life. As far as I could tell, she moved out to be with the man she loved... and to escape from the hell of her life here. But not to do something with herself, which surprised me.
The Critic is, and has always been, one of the most effective people I know. When she wants something, she gets it-- and she always wants something. She is definitely the woman with the plan; she has goals, aspirations, desperations, and more motivation than I can really describe here. She is bound and determined to prove herself to the world at large, even if she has to do it one person at a time. Which is why I was shocked when she made this huge, world-shattering move... and then didn't do anything with it. At least anything she told me about.
This was still several months ago. She broke up with the man she had loved, badly. I think I can say that that period was the most vulnerable I have ever seen her. The one thing, the only actively positive thing that I could see in her new situation evaporated literally overnight. She was still better off than she was at home... but now she was barren, lost, and alone.
At this point I developed a small pain in my gut-- the "damn it, I was afraid that would happen" pain. But I couldn't talk to her about it, because I didn't want to make her fell any worse about the situation. So I talked to some other of our mutual friends, and the pain didn't really go away. When the Critic started swinging as a way to cope with the situation, the pain flared. Normally I wouldn't have minded. Peoples' sexual lives are their own affairs and as far as anyone who can manage one-night-stands: more power to you! The Critic particularly has been sexually adventuresome for almost as long as I've known her, and despite the fact that she frequently surprised me with her tales of steamy and impromptu sex, it had never bothered me until now.
And it took me a long time (until now, actually) to figure out why. I felt like she was ignoring the important issues... namely putting her life back together, either emotionally or practically. I was pretty sure that the sex was just a distraction; a way to stop thinking about her situation for a while. Which meant that all of the very serious problems she had weren't getting solved. And that pain in my gut told me unequivocally that it was eventually going to blow up on her... because that's what always happens when I ignore my problems. But I couldn't tell her that either; partially because it hurt me to even think about it, and partially because I was afraid her reaction would hurt one or both of us. So I stayed quiet as she assumed the posture of a swinger and started bragging and playing games again, even though every time I talked to her I hurt increasingly much inside.
Which brings us roughly to the Event. As before, I chose to vent some of my bottled steam on our mutual friends-- because they, at least, had some vague idea of what I was talking about. At some point the Critic talked with one of those individuals who thought that she was, to put it bluntly, being an idiot; and she came to me for a second opinion.
In the beginning I played it like I usually do, calm and funny-- in other words, actively ignoring the tangible chest pain that accompanied the conversation. I was trying to lay down what I saw and felt. But, inevitably, the Critic (being who she is) stepped in to correct what she saw as an error in one of my statements-- and an important one at that. And at that point something in my chest broke and I just blew up at her. I was telling her how I saw things despite the fact that it was strongly and personally painful for me to do so, and she was going to correct me?
And then she corrected the statement where I blew up at her.
From there the conversation pretty much degenerated into name-calling (although the two of us always make sure to back up our unflattering names with complete rationales), and the Critic left the conversation without letting me say my piece. I was beyond furious... I was literally seeing white at that point. She didn't give any indication that she really wanted to hear what I had to say... it seemed like she just wanted to yell at me. So I threw the whole situation into a locked box deep in my subconscious and forgot about it.
You can probably guess that this is where the Tarot cards come in.
I find it ironic and noteworthy that what sparked the Event was the Critic correctly adjusting what I said-- her argument was right even if her delivery was wrong. But then that seems to be the general trend between the two of us. There were other things she said that I completely and utterly refute-- but then, there were things I said that she would say the same thing about. It was the heat of the moment, and we were both in pain.
Now it's approximately two weeks later and I haven't talked to the Critic since; nor has she made any attempt to talk to me. But this is at least the way that I need to start.
I finally understand what my Tarot deck has been trying to tell me since I bought it. It's been trying to remind me of something that I have to do.... and doing it involves telling a story.
The Critic took my heart and stabbed it the other week. She made me angrier than I've been in months, so angry that I could hardly breathe, let alone type. I don't think she realizes how much she hurt me. Just like I'm sure she doesn't think I realize how much I hurt her.
Here's how I'd break it down, and I'm trying as hard as I can to not bias my own memory with what I want to have happened. Prior to the Event, the Critic had spent the last several months of her life making radical changes. She found a new place, new people... and both of these things worried me, but not any more than I'd say was healthy for a good friend. What bothered me a lot was that she had moved out a) without really telling me about it [I remember distinctly her AIMing me with a message along the lines of "Guess what? I'm 5000 miles away!"] and b) without any real plan for what to do with her life. As far as I could tell, she moved out to be with the man she loved... and to escape from the hell of her life here. But not to do something with herself, which surprised me.
The Critic is, and has always been, one of the most effective people I know. When she wants something, she gets it-- and she always wants something. She is definitely the woman with the plan; she has goals, aspirations, desperations, and more motivation than I can really describe here. She is bound and determined to prove herself to the world at large, even if she has to do it one person at a time. Which is why I was shocked when she made this huge, world-shattering move... and then didn't do anything with it. At least anything she told me about.
This was still several months ago. She broke up with the man she had loved, badly. I think I can say that that period was the most vulnerable I have ever seen her. The one thing, the only actively positive thing that I could see in her new situation evaporated literally overnight. She was still better off than she was at home... but now she was barren, lost, and alone.
At this point I developed a small pain in my gut-- the "damn it, I was afraid that would happen" pain. But I couldn't talk to her about it, because I didn't want to make her fell any worse about the situation. So I talked to some other of our mutual friends, and the pain didn't really go away. When the Critic started swinging as a way to cope with the situation, the pain flared. Normally I wouldn't have minded. Peoples' sexual lives are their own affairs and as far as anyone who can manage one-night-stands: more power to you! The Critic particularly has been sexually adventuresome for almost as long as I've known her, and despite the fact that she frequently surprised me with her tales of steamy and impromptu sex, it had never bothered me until now.
And it took me a long time (until now, actually) to figure out why. I felt like she was ignoring the important issues... namely putting her life back together, either emotionally or practically. I was pretty sure that the sex was just a distraction; a way to stop thinking about her situation for a while. Which meant that all of the very serious problems she had weren't getting solved. And that pain in my gut told me unequivocally that it was eventually going to blow up on her... because that's what always happens when I ignore my problems. But I couldn't tell her that either; partially because it hurt me to even think about it, and partially because I was afraid her reaction would hurt one or both of us. So I stayed quiet as she assumed the posture of a swinger and started bragging and playing games again, even though every time I talked to her I hurt increasingly much inside.
Which brings us roughly to the Event. As before, I chose to vent some of my bottled steam on our mutual friends-- because they, at least, had some vague idea of what I was talking about. At some point the Critic talked with one of those individuals who thought that she was, to put it bluntly, being an idiot; and she came to me for a second opinion.
In the beginning I played it like I usually do, calm and funny-- in other words, actively ignoring the tangible chest pain that accompanied the conversation. I was trying to lay down what I saw and felt. But, inevitably, the Critic (being who she is) stepped in to correct what she saw as an error in one of my statements-- and an important one at that. And at that point something in my chest broke and I just blew up at her. I was telling her how I saw things despite the fact that it was strongly and personally painful for me to do so, and she was going to correct me?
And then she corrected the statement where I blew up at her.
From there the conversation pretty much degenerated into name-calling (although the two of us always make sure to back up our unflattering names with complete rationales), and the Critic left the conversation without letting me say my piece. I was beyond furious... I was literally seeing white at that point. She didn't give any indication that she really wanted to hear what I had to say... it seemed like she just wanted to yell at me. So I threw the whole situation into a locked box deep in my subconscious and forgot about it.
You can probably guess that this is where the Tarot cards come in.
I find it ironic and noteworthy that what sparked the Event was the Critic correctly adjusting what I said-- her argument was right even if her delivery was wrong. But then that seems to be the general trend between the two of us. There were other things she said that I completely and utterly refute-- but then, there were things I said that she would say the same thing about. It was the heat of the moment, and we were both in pain.
Now it's approximately two weeks later and I haven't talked to the Critic since; nor has she made any attempt to talk to me. But this is at least the way that I need to start.