This is a collaboration of thoughts that have been spinning through my head. They have been brewing for over two years now so who knows where I will end up. The last post helped bring myself a bit more understanding about how intense my love can be. As I was traveling through my past trying to understand some of my behaviors, I realized how few relationships I have had. When I think of school and my younger years, I do not recall any lasting relationships.
The longest friendships I had were during third to fourth grade.
I had a group of girls who were my friends, but by the start of fifth grade, I had none. I did manage to find two friends around the end of that year into sixth grade, but it was short-lived. They had been best friends since the beginning of second grade. They lived in the same neighborhood too. I really had no chance of staying friends with them because of my own social confusion and because I did not live close to them.
I could not keep the connection.
The only person who I could rely on each year was my friend Darrell. It did not matter if we were in the same class or not, during recess or lunch I could rely on him to talk to me if I was alone. I even talked to Darrell on the phone. I liked him a lot; to me he had many features that reminded me of John Cusack. I liked John Cusack from the second I saw him in Sixteen Candles. I do not know why, but I thought he was funny.
I have written about Darrell before, he started to grow-up and I did not understand. (Short version.)
However, I was never obsessive about him. I did not have invasive thoughts or looping fantasies about him. I did not need to I was not confused by him until we got into middle school. When he started to make comments about girls and sex that is when I became confused. We eventually, just stopped hanging out or talking. We were in different “groups” of friends by then. I was not helping his popularity. The more I have thought about my younger years the more I see I started to develop my own unconventional love interests.
My first obsessive love interest was with John Travolta.
I fell in love with the movie Grease, not him. I knew it word for word. I did not comprehend what the songs were about or that they were talking about sex most of the time. Not a clue, I did not notice that until I was around 25 years-old. I recall the day in a kind of blurry visual. It was summer time, I was driving my little red Honda Civic, windows down, I was singing at the top of my lungs, Grease Lightening. There I was singing and all the sudden the lyrics hit me like a ton of bricks. I stopped it, replayed it, sat in shock for a moment, then the realization of all the others songs and the movie struck me. I started laughing at myself. It was not in a bad way I just could not believe that I had known this movie and the songs by heart and I never caught onto the innuendos.
I loved that movie obsessively.
I drove my mom batty because I sang the songs all the time. I would sing and do the dances. I talked about John Travolta and Olivia Newton John. When I attach to a movie character, I want to see everything that they have ever done – good or bad. I want to read everything I possibly can on them. I had many “love interests” such as Michael Jackson, Cyndi Lauper, but the first group was definitely The Monkees. I loved them so much that it hurt my heart with joy when I listened to them.
Now that I think about it, I believe the reason was that my mom loved the The Monkees too.
They were the first band that she attached to as a young teenager. It was the first time in my life that my mom and I connected. She shared all of her paraphernalia from when she was a girl. She talked to me about them and confessed her love for Davy Jones. She did the same thing for Paul McCartney, but she did not become as fixated on The Beatles as she did The Monkees. She took me to The Monkees reunion tour concert. She bought me their album and we sang and danced together.
I felt connected, loved, acknowledged, and happy.
It made me love them even more. I videotaped all of the shows on MTV. I memorized all of their songs. I read all of the articles in magazines that I could. I read my mom’s old magazines that she kept about them. I loved them and the connection with my mom deeply and passionately. Then, it all stopped. I cannot recall what exactly happened, but I believe it was shortly after the concert that my mom became pregnant with one of my sisters.
Everything changed, but it also went back to what it used to be.
It is hard to explain, but I have not “fallen in love” with people. I have fallen in love with connections to people, places, things, and animals. It is a difficult thing for me to try to articulate. I loved my music; I loved my books, when I say I loved them I mean what others mean when talking about people. I will try to explain it, take the song Hurt by NIN I felt so connected to the song that I poured parts of me into as I listened to it and sang it. I give my ALL to things that I love.
I did not just sing the song I attached emotions to it.
I loved the song because it felt as though I was singing to the imaginary friend I had longed to love so much. I have done that with many songs. I have many musical lovers so to speak. I wanted to love a person. I wanted the person to love me, but I never seemed to find that person. So my things loved me and I loved them. Songs, poems, books, and movies seemed to bring me that connection and love that I so deeply longed for. They felt real and made me feel more connected with this world. When I made a friend in high school that seemed to have this connection I was looking for I was sad and happy at the same time.
I was sad because I did not understand it.
I felt this intense emotional attachment and I never wanted it to go away. I thought she felt the same. We did share a friendship connection that was close and real, but I was too intense. I did not know how to be friends with anyone. I did not know how to love other than, the devices that I had been left to on my own. This was all-consuming. Utterly devoted, incredibly loyal, divulging all of my thoughts, desires, and spewing my special interests all over the place.
I shared many of my deepest hidden thoughts and I got hurt.
I hurt her because of my wounds. She too had many wounds and both of us were quite dysfunctional, but it was the first time I loved and felt any sort of being loved back. I still feel connected to her. For years, she was my everything. My mom actually allowed her to live with us because her home life was so bad. That is unheard of my mom does not allow anyone into her home like that. She is not a lover of strays of any kind.
There is a long story that plays into this, but a year or so later, she got pregnant and married.
I lost her; she left me for a man, which was a familiar trigger. Even if I was not technically abandoned whenever a “man” came into the picture, I was thrown to the waste-side with my mom and with my best friend. I thought it was me. Once again, I felt that I had to have caused these things. I was not good enough to be loved and I felt that I was incapable of loving. This is why I was fearful of having children. My mind would become full of anxious thoughts like, “OMG! What if I cannot love them? What if I do the same things as my parents did? What if I am cold, hard, and unloving? What if they do not love me? What if they hate me?”
All sorts of fears that I shared with no one.
I poured my love into my special interests and they loved me back without pain or rejection. I could not understand the adjustment in my relationship with her. I could not understand the suddenness of her not being around. I could not understand why she had to spend so much time with him. My boyfriend at the time did not want me around all the time like that. We lived together, she lived with her boyfriend, and I did not understand why our relationship had to be limited.
In a way, it was good that I moved away and separated from her.
We really did not have a healthy relationship, there is a lot more involved in the story. However, I never recovered from that disconnection. I was sealed to her. I gave her my heart and my soul. I loved her and after that, I never loved a person like that again. I did love another person more intensely later in my life. It was more intense because I was also attracted to them. I mention some of this in my last post. It was new, scary, exciting, and gave me joy that I had never experienced even with my deepest of loves. (Music, books, poems, movies, animals, nature, etc …)
This love had trumped all other loves.
I have thought about this a lot because it has been an object of obsession, not the person. I still have great affection toward the person, but the obsessive part is “How could this happen to me? Why did this happen only to have it taken? Why can’t I have these same penetrating connections and emotions for another?” Those are the obsessive thoughts. I connected with another human being in a way that was completely foreign to me. The other obsessive thing that runs through my head is “Why would I fall for it?”
Why would I believe that it was going to be any different than, all of my other experiences?
Why did I feel that this was going to be the one and only time that I would not feel rejected? It has not made any sense to me. By all accounts, my past relationships run in a pattern. People leave, life happens, things do not work out, and relationships end. I feel bound by connections. There were so many and there seemed to be a bond that he and I had not felt with another before. It felt like a mutual bond. However, I realize now that I could have created that in my own imaginations.
I did it with my other loves.
I could feel loved by stuffed animals when I felt no love from my parents. I could have created his affections. I could have projected all sorts of emotions. I held onto many of my feelings toward them and hid them away after it fell apart. I held onto them closely, dearly, tucked them into secret places of my mind until one day I was given the opportunity to explode them into their world. Since it has been years of mauling over this, I think I can see with clarity how frightening it could be to be the one on the receiving end of my affections.
I found myself intense and wildly open.
I confessed all of my adoration and downloaded practically every connection I ever had with this person. The synchronicity was too much even for me. It happened when I first met them and it continued for years. I told myself that I made these things up. I reminded myself that when you look for things you will see them. I also, reminded myself that the way my brain works it is always looking for patterns and connections so it could possibly just be what I am seeing. That is still true, but it does not disconnect the connections that were penetrating.
I found myself thinking about what it must have felt like for them to read all that I shared with them.
I was not thinking of them when I did it. I just felt as though the words were exploding out of soul and they had waited so long to come out that I could not contain them. I had never loved before and I was not given the chance to tell them how I felt SO I HAD to tell them before I died. I felt as though the words had to be manifested into the universe for all existence. I thought that they would see it all too.
I thought that they would understand.
I was not thinking of how painful it could have been. I did not think about how overwhelming that might feel to another person. I did not think that it could hurt others too. It is a painful circumstance for me. It is hard to talk about. It is embarrassing. It brings about all sorts of emotions. I cannot take back anything that I have done, I can only move on. I do know that going through all of this has opened up my creativity. It has caused me to dig down into places that I refused to go before.
It has caused me to change my perspective about many things.
It has made me learn how to accept myself. It has made me learn about boundaries. It has also, led me into understanding that boundaries are not about the other person they are about you. He set boundaries with me and I felt that it was rejection. It really does not matter they were his boundaries and they needed to be respected. In turn, I have learned what boundaries are and how to set them in my own life. Specifically, in my “real” life. I had not set boundaries in my relationships with my kids, with David, with my family, or even with myself.
Because of that, I was hurt often, exhausted all the time, and was filled with unnecessary stress/anxiety.
We have all gotten better in this household because of my new personal boundaries. It is beneficial for the kids too because they are learning healthy boundaries that I did not learn as a child. I find it interesting that I do not have this sort of fixated love toward my children. I have always had a healthy sense of love for them. I started to change in many ways after I became a mother. I was able to see that I used to have this “obsessive” type of love toward my parents as well.
I no longer have it toward my parents.
I think it came from the desire to want to feel connected and loved by them. I now know that my parents love me and always have. I understand that I created unrealistic expectations of how parents are supposed to love their children. I also, acknowledge that they neglected my emotional and physical needs throughout my life. I am not upset about that it gives me insight to why I have some of the struggles that I do.
I have found myself at a place of peace.
I have not been obsessive about my special interests in a long time. I still stim and consume information, but it is not the same. I have found a balance that no longer brings me into extreme states of emotions. Since June, a clip from Forrest Gump has been playing in my head it seems to sum up all that I am feeling at the moment. I feel it in many areas of my life and I like the transition that I am moving into. I am no longer confused by the love that I have felt. I use it to write. I create my own characters who long to be loved or who feel intense love. They are my new friends in a sense and I love them dearly.