Something is really happening to me. I don’t know what, but it really, really hurts. And it hurts a lot longer and in a more complicated way than I feel able to cope with. Anyway, I guess I might be coping. Who knows.
I woke up again very angry. I was angry last night, slept soundly at least, and woke up angry again.
She’s not doing this, I eventually found myself thinking. She isn’t hurting me. This is a conditioned response. This is my brain hurting itself, because it has been conditioned to do that. Damn.
The morning went a bit smoother at least. I woke up at a little after 3, eventually decided to just get up. I wrote a bit in my journal, made pancakes for C, made breakfast and lunch, cleaned the kitchen, did the laundry. After that, it was like, okay where is the friend? Where is my messenger? The messenger doesn’t leave earlier than 6:50, and she usually leaves by 7:15. Sometimes, she doesn’t leave until 7:30 though. So it’s a big window. That was part of yesterday’s problem. When I start thinking the messenger is on her way, I start doing work in the bedroom, where I can see her walk past the house. I used to be able to see her from the kitchen also, but these enormous sunflowers have grown up and block my view of the pathway.
I did my work. I did some extra work. No messenger. It was edging towards 7:10, and I wondered what to do. I thought of yesterday’s dilemma. How do I make sure I can reach a backup messenger? Damn. It’s such a small thing, getting pancakes to a child at boarding school, and it seems so unimportant, but it is important. The consistency of it is important. I went into the bathroom and considered taking a bath. I can see the path below from the bathroom window—it is on the same side of the house—but then if I’m naked, I can’t get outside to see the messenger in time.
I was washing my face, I guess, and I saw her, threw an extra shirt on, and she was just disappearing when I came out. But the girl, who knows I want a messenger, hears the bolt of the door slide open, and turns around now. On Saturday, I sent her up the hill with a big box of stuff, so I feel afraid now that the messenger is fed up being a pack horse for me, and wants to avoid me. I mean, I might. And there are lots of other ways to walk to school. Anyway, she heard the bolt slide open and turned back. Maybe she isn’t fed up, and if I indicate appropriately that I recognize she is a human being and not a pack horse, she might not mind being my messenger too much. I gave her a candy bar, said thank you, she said thank you, and I went inside again.
Now, I’m terrified. I was relieved for a while, made tea, and then terror came back.
It’s a conditioned response. C isn’t doing this to me. I want her. I am getting a handle on that feeling that I want her, this feeling of wanting that hurts so badly. I understand now it hurts so much because it isn’t regulated. Feelings that are not integrated do not get regulated in the normal way. They remain like baby feelings, full-blast on. The feeling isn’t integrated, because I am conditioned to think I can’t have it. So, it’s getting integrated now, and that means experiencing it first in this very unregulated, over-intense, really horribly painful way until it starts succumbing to my ability to regulate my emotions.
C gives it to me partly because of the joys of mirror neurons. She wants me. My mind goes about imagining that feeling of wanting someone which she is having. I want her, and I also imagine her wanting me, and so it’s harder to avoid feeling that wanting that I don’t want to feel, that I have been conditioned to think isn’t allowed. Along with that feeling of wanting, comes everything else that is conditioned with it: fear and anger and shame. I am not allowed to have it, I am afraid of being punished for having it, I feel angry and ready to defend myself from attack, I feel ashamed I can’t control the impulse to seek it.