outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary

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Strange things happen on the way to Seattle

So despite my resolution to "forgive" relative to the fight described in my previous entry, which, being as it was the middle of the night when I decided it, was enacted through the lifting of the in-bed-touching embargo, it was apparently not overt enough and/or not shared in sentiment by the one for whom it was intended (girlfriend). Woke to a morning of ice-cold eye contact avoidance.

Treated to a morning of apartfulness (as opposed to togetherness) while she got herself ready for work, I had the opportunity to revisit every bitter thought I'd come up with over the past 24 hours. So much for forgiveness.

As I'd mentioned last night, or this morning, I had decided to forgive her, not so much out of actual forgiveness for what had gone down, but because I'd been looking at the gestalt and wanted to get past this temporary nastiness and get back to the good stuff. This frequently happens if I've been people watching, or hearing about friends' significant others, or reading hard knocks diaries (like the one of this this lovely individual), and suddenly get back to appreciating that my girlfriend is SMART, an intellectual of a whole new breed (so to speak; that was not a racial slur), that she is open to compromise, that she is always learning with me, that I can trust her, that we are compatible, that she cares about people, that she laughs. And then I'm all...dammit, how can I go tell her so when she's not speaking to or touching me? Thus ends fights.

Of course this time she was fast asleep during this process, didn't see it go by, and woke up still under the impression that she is mad at me, and so I have to recap all the reasons why in my head. Which I will relate to you now at great length.

For one: what I said yesterday, to the effect of she must be ashamed of me if she still hasn't told her mother we're together. To what I thought was my credit, I said this over a text, because she doesn't like face-to-face confrontations, and I tried to frame it within my appreciation that she HAD told her sisters about us. I swear I was not intending to pressure her into telling her mother; I just wanted her to know how it made me feel. That's it! That's all! Finito! Kaputski!

But, uh, for whatever reason (perhaps because she does not carefully read my carefully constructed messages over whose exact phrasing I agonized for minimal assholiness) (or perhaps because whenever the impression is less-than-positive about her she sees magnified negativity and we spiral from there) (or perhaps because she has an inferiority complex which she projects onto me as a SUPeriority complex) (or I don't know what), our communications quickly dissolved into "you're a bitch!" "well you're a brat!" and pouting and silence from there.

I honestly do not understand why my expressing a negative thought, something that I want to put out there, get off my chest, address, is equated to my being bitchy and thinking I'm better than her and trying to make her into something she's not. I reread the whole exchange several times and I couldn't figure out how that straw man was built. It makes me really angry and frustrated to feel like I have to censor myself, to only deliver positive her-affirming statements when there are things I need for myself, like being able to be heard when I'm upset. It's seems pretty plain that my calls for justice result in her folding back on herself for defense and sending out missiles for offense, making me feel completely abandoned and wounded and neglected. Not helped by the fact that often at these moments she will tell me that what I say doesn't matter, or that I can go find someone else as good as me, and that (so often, and so destructively) we're through. Luckily I didn't get these last two this time, but I am always wary and fearful that they are right around the corner, so often have I been told this and so raw do they make me feel.

I want her to come back to me and tell me that she's sorry, that she over-reacted, that she doesn't mean what she says (though the latter does not comfort as much as she may think). I want her to reach for me in bed, to show me it's all over and done, to let me ask gentle questions about why she did this and how she could say that, until we're both satisfied that it's behind us. Sometimes, these things do happen. But not this time.

I don't think I did anything wrong this time; I couldn't put my finger on a single thing, going back through the (virtual) conversation. For me to go to her and say I'm sorry would be a lie. For me to go to her and say you're being a jerk, stop this, would be a disaster. At this point, I don't know what else to do. It's out of my hands. I am in a stale mate and all I can do is watch her for any sign of what's to come.

Infuriating, plus two!, is the fact that we are leaving tomorrow to, first make a loooooong drive to Albuquerque to meet up with her sister and mother and nephew, and then fly to Seattle for a family trip. Mad at each other? How the hell do we manage that? GRRRRR!

Stale-mated and frustrated and aggravated as I was, imagine my surprise when she texts me an hour ago to tell me she's talked to her mother about us, and all is well. The emotional roller coaster coasts on its rollers to the end of the ride. Peace.

The girl never ceases to amaze me. She never ceases to flummox me. She never ceases to find new ways to teach me about love and about her and about the world we create and live in. I must have done something pretty awesome in a past life to deserve it.

12:08 p.m. - 2009-07-30

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