No Apologies

“And high up above or down below

When you’re too in love to let it go

But if you never try you’ll never know

Just what you’re worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you” – Coldplay

I had a panic attack this weekend. That hasn’t happened in a while. Spaniard was with me. He managed to help me snap out of it in a matter of minutes by holding me tight next to him until my breathing matched his. I was embarrassed by my episode. I keep thinking I’m done with these wretched things and am discouraged when it comes back again. I apologized. He looked at me sternly and told me to never apologize. Never!!

As he would say: Fail harder. Don't give excuses for what you're not doing and never apologize.

He then reminded me that while I may not like it, every event in my life up to this point has become a part of my essence. He told me I’m wonderful even though I choose not to see it. All of these events are linked to me and always will be; that’s just the way it is. When a memory surfaces, when I’m gripped with fear, when I’m drowning in my own feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness, I need to acknowledge those aspects of myself and dismiss them because I’m done with them now. I’m safe. I am loved. – Book of Spaniard.

Whatever happened happened. I can't change it and I can't keep wishing it away, either. It exists. Embrace it. Dismiss it. Move on.

Spaniard reads me well. I do not like it – and I’m quite certain I don’t like it because he challenges me. He pushes me because he says I can do better, I can achieve more and I can be stronger. He tells me to maintain eye contact with him. He's right and I hate it. I’ve always felt uncomfortable with this because I feel like whoever is on the receiving end of my gaze can see right through me. It makes me vulnerable. I guess I can’t hold up a façade forever. I can’t berate myself forever, either. I truly am my own worst enemy. Spaniard told me to stop honing in on the things that I think are wrong with me and focus on what I like about myself. Also, there is nothing wrong with me. – Book of Spaniard. I can't keep trying to cover my eyes and I need to let myself live. I can't achieve that if I'm consistently trying to blind myself. 

"All the powers in the universe are already ours. it is we who have put our hands before our eyes and cry that it is dark." - Swami Vivekananda

While I spend the rest of my week forcing myself to stare into my own reflection, I’m making a point of looking for the good qualities and strengths. I’m going to remind myself that the good and bad have formed me – and I am unique and wonderful. For the record, I grimaced when I typed that last sentence. This isn’t going to be easy. 

I. Hate. This!!! It just makes me cry - but I know he's right. 

As he’s reminded me that these demons I carry with me are a part of me and will come back from time to time, I need to care for myself while I work through it. Self-care has never been my forte. I’ve been saying for months that I’m going to take a weekend off and ignore the rest of the world. Has it happened? No. There’s always a crisis in someone’s life or something that requires my presence. I’m quite certain my family is the most demanding . . . My next move will be out of the mother f-ing country! At least I managed to start dancing again last week. As I’m settling in and getting back to some form of a routine, I can start to slowly incorporate the things that I value back into my life. I’ll take my break from the world eventually. In the meantime, I have a friend who will remind (or force) me to go back to the things that I love and to always give it my best shot. 

- Book of Spaniard

The Answer Is No

“Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional.” – Roger Crawford

Last night was the true test of my fake engagement ring to my fake fiancé. The outcome wasn’t quite what I wanted, but it will do for now. I missed dancing most of last week; my mother was in the hospital. Needless to say, I was very much looking forward to hitting the floor for some close embrace dancing.

First I chatted with a guy that was a few seats over from me. He looked at me the wrong way. I’ve heard it’s a fairly normal reaction for men to steer their gaze straight towards a woman’s cleavage – which is exactly what this guy did when I bent over in my seat to adjust my dance shoe. Not okay. I excused myself saying I needed to refill my water bottle and went to the opposite side of the room where there was fellow tango dancer that I know to some degree and trust him not to eye boggle me or make me feel threatened at all.

Dude, come on! I wasn't even dressed remotely close to this revealing.

Then there was the extremely angry, two-faced tango guy who I’m quite certain asks me to dance for the sole purpose of getting under my skin. I can tell him no, I know this – and yet I never do because I’m still not absolutely certain this action won’t come across as 1) insulting and 2) the Irish Lass looking like a cold-hearted a**hole. So I sat there as I saw him walking towards me thinking to myself, “Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact . . . . Crap! I just made eye contact. Then there was the cabaceo – and my immediate reaction is always a smile and a nod. So there I was, dancing next to the devil himself counting down every song and hoping it would be a short tanda. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I like how he looks at me, either – I really need to make a point of avoiding him as much as possible and for the life of me can’t figure out why I haven’t given him the cold shoulder, regardless of how mean some may perceive that act on my part. Is it really worth it? My guess is no. I don’t want to dance with the devil and I certainly don’t want him to touch me, either. Note to self: channel rage.

Yeah . . . That's pretty close to what I felt like.

Later on, I danced an amazing tanda with someone I had only met that evening. That’s one of the beautiful things about this dance. There’s an amazing synchronization of music, movement and synergy in tango that makes it so addictive. It was perfect – until the end when he asked me for my e-mail address. Who the hell are you, guy?  I told him I don’t give my contact information out to people I don’t know.

 . . . or my e-mail, or my real name.

I pride myself on nearly making it to the end last night. I headed out as the last set of the evening was playing. I ran into an acquaintance on the way out. He mentioned he had been in California. I said I was jealous and he told me I should go with him next time. Granted he and I have talked during tango and often have a good time together. He’s carefree, has a good sense of humor, and I laugh and smile a good deal when he’s around me – but still, I really don’t feel like I know him enough to pack up and head to California for a weekend. All I could think was, ‘Why?!’ I said nothing in response; I merely stared blankly and walked off – perhaps with a shallow smile on my face.

Did I mention he could probably be a stunt double for Chris Hemsworth? I want to be a stunt double, damnit.

I think I’ve reached the ultimate state of paranoia. Seriously, any male presence that is unfamiliar to me is perceived as a potential threat – even some that I do know but haven’t made a decision on whether or not they are a trustworthy person who has no ulterior motive or ill intention towards me.

Just in case I ever feel lonely and am tempted to seek comfort in the arms of another, I remind myself that no one else can mend my wounded heart . . . and also that tango is a great source of comfort in the arms of another without the emotional turmoil and wreckage that usually comes with it.  I remind myself how emotionally painful it’s been since the Beloved – and for now I’ll simply accept that my depth of feeling for him will make an excellent deterrent from even thinking about dating for a while – a very long while. 

I just want a life that's not entangled with someone else's for a while. 

When I'm not preoccupied with paranoia from fending off unwanted attention, I find that I have to remind myself more often than not to mentally stay put. Stay here. Stay now. This is where I am. I'm the type of person that thinks of every possible outcome before I make a move. Sometimes this serves me well, and sometimes this practice causes me to worry more about things that I don't even need to act on yet . . . and now know why I feel like I'm always running in circles. I've been thinking about the upcoming move and apartment hunting. It occurred to me that the hound has never been alone. He's always had Cassie and since I've been in Portland, I've lived in a very busy house in which there is almost always a human presence. I soon found my mind ridden with anxiety wondering how he would cope with this change and how he's coping with Cassie's absence and how the heck was I going to afford a dog walker or doggy  daycare? Stay here, Irish Lass. You're not there yet. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. For all I know, Merlin the hound will probably be perfectly content to have a couch all to himself all day.

They've attempted to block him from the couch . . . . I know he's quite proud of himself.

Truths and Warning Signs

"Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself." - Harvey Fierstein

I hesitated for some time to even talk about this, much less write it and post it in cyber world. I’m rather disappointed in myself, really. Ultimately, I decided to go for it in the hopes that someone like me can benefit from it and also a plea for women with low self-esteem, who are naïve from lack of intuition because you were never taught these skills, perhaps you’ve experienced trauma or loss and there was no one there to comfort you, to take the time to reconnect with yourself. Find your footing, embrace who you are and trust your instincts above all else.

There are several forms of abuse; I will be discussing the form that comes in spoken word and manipulation. Vulnerability can be easily sensed. We become vulnerable from time to time due to things like loss, trauma, a broken heart, etc. Vulnerability makes us easy pickings for others seeking to take advantage of a person in an emotional, psychical, weakened state of mind.

"With each passage of human growth we must shed a protective structure. We are left exposed and vulnerable - but also yeasty and embryonic again, capable of stretching in ways we hadn't known before." - Gail Sheehy

Vulnerability is a strength as well. It shows we dare to experience life and ride the emotions. It's problematic when you've become so exposed and feel so voiceless that you've allowed others to dominate you.

I came to the realization last night while talking with a friend over dinner that every guy I’ve dated, spoken with, hung out with, or had any connection to whatsoever over this past year (my genuine friends excluded) – has really only been a Band-Aid – and they’ve been poor Band-Aids at that: the kind that leave the wound festering.

I need to learn to take life slower and grieve when I’m sad or mending a broken heart instead of trying to stuff it down and tough it out. This lack of self-care and personal awareness landed me in a relationship that was headed down a very dark path.

Not only was it dark, but it was lonely, too. When I finally quit denying what was happening I was too ashamed to tell anyone the truth.

It was nice in the beginning, but there were also some blatant warning signs that I never noticed until I gave myself some time to turn things over in my head. He seemed nice. He said he wanted to protect me. Warning Sign # 1: No one should talk about protecting you. It hints at ownership – and this is never a good thing.

He was consistently late. Very late. I once sat outside of a milonga waiting for him for 2 hours. He kept telling me that he was on his way and to wait. Warning Signs #2 and 3: Someone who is consistently late is blatantly stating their time is more important than yours and that you are on their clock. In other words: your world must revolve around this person’s schedule. Lies, even little ones that seem harmless should be examined closely. More lies surfaced later: his status as a college student, his employment, even a criminal record that he kept under wraps. 

Less than a month into the relationship he had too much to drink and picked a fight with me. I excused his behavior with inebriation. I didn’t want to stick around and try to work it out because that was pointless: He was drunk and would not listen to reason. He threatened to break up with me if I left. I did. What proceeded after were several texts. Some of them threatening followed by pleas to turn around and come back because he was sorry. I was very stupid. I turned around to patch things up. Warning Sign #4: Someone who drinks that often and to the point of angry inebriation is battling with their own demons and possible addiction. Stay away. You can’t help them. You are not responsible for them. You are responsible for you. Warning Sign #5: He obviously tried to intimidate me by playing on my insecurities. It didn’t work at first. Eventually I caved in. Don’t let someone intimidate or manipulate you. Ever. You are better than that and you deserve better than that.

This is an accurate depiction to how I should have reacted to that

Not long after that first spiff things went downhill very quickly. He accused me of flirting with a friend of a friend. I was chatting with said acquaintance over drinks with a group of people. He was a transplant doctor. I work with transplant patients. That subject was 90 percent of our conversation. Warning Sign #6: It was obvious that the guy I was dating was extremely insecure and he took this out on me on more than one occasion. He hated my job, accused me of bowing to the corporate gods, and often tried to talk me into skipping work to spend a day with him. I’d had the job for less than a month and he knew I worked very hard to get it. This brings me to Warning Sign #7: Never involve yourself with someone who lives their life with jealousy. This is one of the unhealthiest emotions.

From his perspective, my alleged flirtation is what ruined everything. He hated the way I dressed. He resented any male friend I had and the fact that I am still speaking with a few of the men I’ve previously dated. He didn’t want me to dance tango. He wanted me to just lay about with him all day . . . . and it was never enough. I never gave him enough of my time. I never did enough. I was never enough. Warning Sign #8: You are enough. Never let someone try to tell you otherwise. Warning Sign #9: Don’t involve yourself with someone who wants to change you. There is nothing wrong with you. No one needs to ‘fix you’ or tell you to act like a ‘proper lady’; f*ck those social conventions straight to hell!! Connect with the archetype of the wild woman. Channel that energy.

Sing and howl at the moon while you're at it - just for kicks.

Because he was always angry with me, I was constantly doing something for him to show him how much I cared for him - because I was always wrong. I was always the one who screwed up. I do not have enough words in my vocabulary to express how very wrong this is. Warning Sign #10: Stay away from angry people, especially those who want to use you as their personal verbal punching bag. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. Never allow someone to put you down. Never allow someone to make you feel shame for who you are.

I was beginning to see the many unhealthy aspects of this poor excuse for a relationship one night when he took me to a restaurant just to be extremely confrontational, tell me how disgusted he was by me, accuse me of never showing my real self to him and a rambling of other things that I can’t remember. He didn’t stop until I threw money at him for my soup and walked out crying. I walked home. I cried the whole way. I don’t recall a time in my life when someone has ever pushed me to be so sad and simultaneously angry. I had apologized over and over again for things that I wasn’t at fault for and this was never ‘sincere’ or ‘genuine’ enough for him. Warning Sign #11: If someone can’t see your truest intentions, but people you’ve barely met can, that person has clearly painted an image of you in his/her head that is unfavorable and inaccurate. Don’t let someone tell you who you are. 

This is pretty much how the pattern works. Don't allow yourself to fall into this. 

Towards the very end, I took him on a vacation as a birthday gift. Originally, I had been looking forward to it, but dreaded it as the days passed drawing me closer to it. He made me wait for more than an hour while he finished packing. I drove because he told me not to get a rental car, he would work something else out (he didn’t work something out). I was tired when we finally arrived. He wanted to go out. I accommodated. I accommodated the entire time – and he still chose to be angry at me for the things that I didn’t do. If you always feel like you have to apologize to someone, get the hell out. Don’t put yourself through that. Warning Sign #12: When it comes to a narcissist, everything is about them. You will spend time with their friends and their family, not yours. Someone who takes more than an hour to get ready on a regular basis is not worth your time. Someone who always makes you feel badly about yourself is a bully who is lashing out due to his or her own insecurities. The insecurities of another person are not your responsibility.

I finally asked for some space. He could only honor that request for one day - just one. He sent flowers, fruit baskets and texts. My request was simple and he couldn’t honor that. He tried to persuade me. He tried to buy me. You are not for sale. You are not a piece of property.

That was a whirlwind that lasted just three months. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Sure, he was charming – but also a ticking time bomb and I didn’t see how bad my situation was until much later. Had I been watchful, had I been cautious and in tune with my instinctual self, I probably would have ignored him.

In the words of Bukowski, "Be on the watch." 

Since then, more things have happened that have compounded trauma on top of trauma and I’ve encountered even more people who are ill intended. One person in particular is from tango. He’s married, but they’re ‘trudging through it until their oldest graduates from high school’. I’m angry because he lied to me. He presented himself as a friend and it soon became clear that friendship was not what he had in mind. To be honest, I’m just plain fed up. Last Friday I bought myself a buffer ring. I’m really not sure if that’s the correct term; basically, it’s a fake engagement ring. So far it’s working quite well for me and will hopefully keep the bad type of man out of my life long enough for me to just be me.

I’m spending time in self-reflection and coming to terms with a few truths about myself that I didn’t care to admit: 1. I am emotionally vulnerable right now and have been for some time. 2. Genuine love cannot be turned off and a Band-Aid will not fix it. I can’t simply find a substitute and hope that the pain goes away. 3. I have no business dating and probably wasn’t quite ready when I was reunited with the Beloved. I was still healing and didn’t recognize it because I allowed myself to be caught up in the joy of him: his presence in my life, being with him; to be honest, everything about him, actually.

I sing 'Can't Touch This' in my head every time I put this on. 

If you’re still with me now, I’m impressed. I want to be clear with my intent. This is not meant to mar someone’s reputation. The purpose of this extremely long entry is to reach out to those who are vulnerable and perhaps feeling a little lost. Don’t let someone take advantage of you. Don’t let someone try to talk their way into your life. Trust yourself and perhaps even guard yourself until you feel ready to face the world again. Surround yourself with people who are uplifting and bring positive energy into your life. For any female readers I recommend Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. It has been a real eye opener for me – so much so that I’ve purchased a handful of copies for friends. I hope it helps you to reconnect with your inner strength as well. 

Patterns and Reality

“The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don’t know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is a reality, and it really happened. “ – James Arthur Baldwin

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning today. I had been dreaming of the Beloved . . . . again. I don’t know why. I haven’t figured out what exactly it is that he represents to me or if there is some part of my subconscious, heart, soul or any combination of those things that keeps trying to hold on to some small piece of him. I threw my head back on the pillow trying to get back to that moment. It was gone. While I dream of him, I’m not seeing reminders of him everywhere I turn. Truth be told, I’d rather not spend too much time reading into it so this doesn’t turn into Haunting Part II or some other bizarre form of obsession along those lines.

I locked him away somewhere inside my memory. It's not that I want to forget - I just want to let go. 

I finally saw my therapist after a six month break with the exception of one visit after Cassie died. I didn’t have health insurance. I was working as a temp. I just couldn’t afford to see her. I only made a point of seeing her after I lost my wee little lass after my co-worker insisted. For the record, she was right. It did make me feel better; it also helped me put all of that pain and longing into words. I can smile about her now. I can speak of her fondly without crying. I do still miss her, but it no longer feels like my soul was split in two by the world’s dullest knife.

What I’ve managed to hash out through therapy are some blatantly obvious things and some aspects of my life that I still don’t quite understand. Psychologist, sociologists, attachment theories and others tell us that the bonds (or lack thereof) that we form in childhood determine our relationships in our adult lives. History repeats itself and this is one of the reasons we see women returning to abusive relationships. No one can quite explain this phenomenon. There are many ideas – but for now we just know that it’s a relationship of causality.

This is one tiny little piece of the puzzle.

I used to think life was too short to not take a risk. I think the key is knowing what risks are really worth it. For now, I’ll take the mundane. Mundane is good.

Simplicity. Nostalgia. Predictability. This is what I want right now. 

The good news is that it’s not set in stone. We’re not doomed to a life of misery if we were unable to form meaningful relationships with caregivers as children and infants or were neglected, or abandoned. What frustrates me is that I know I have a tendency to fall into the same pattern. It’s like I’m stuck in a repeating orbit. I know this about me, yet find myself in the same situational pattern over and over again. Relationship wise this has manifested in forms of toxicity such as possessiveness, jealously, abuse, negligence, and sometimes even bullying. I eventually recognize I’m in a bad situation and quickly get myself out – I just fail to see the early warning signs. They do exist; I’ve just been oblivious to them. This is my current therapy project. I’ve been in this same cycle for my entire life. I’d think I would have learned to hit the eject button by now. I guess I’m on the lower end of the learning curve.

I've been told by more than one person that I should read this book. Not sure if I want to - even if it is for my own good. 

While I educate myself on recognizing early warning factors, I’ll be focusing on the good people in my life and the non-threatening males that allow me to be myself, most of which I've met through tango. Those are the types of people I want to surround myself with; there is no judgment; there are no expectations; they value my friendship and that’s all there is to it. I recognize I need to be cautious with this as well. I would never want to ruin a friendship by giving the wrong impression. Tango has social rules. It’s assumed that something is going on between two people when ‘x’ amount of sets are danced with one another.

If only tango were so simple . . . . If only life were so simple. I think I'd be set. 

On days that I just want to be comforted by friends that make me feel at ease, I have to be careful. I would never knowingly hurt someone I care about - or anyone for that matter.There’s a balance somewhere. I’ll find it eventually.

“Let go of your expectations. The Universe will do what it will. Sometimes your dreams will come true. Sometimes they won’t. Sometimes when you let go of a broken dream, another one gently takes its place. Be aware of what is, not what you would like to be, taking place.” – Melody Beattie

The Search for Tranquility

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” – Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral’s Kiss

I’ve been a little jumpy lately. Something that I really don’t care to talk about set off yet another relapse of PTSD. I’ll be grateful when I can calm down enough to not think a certain someone is going to bash my car windows in, follow me home, or just show up somewhere I happen to be in an uncontainable rage. When I get to the root of that irrational fear perhaps I can feel a sense of peace again.

The fear I have of this unnamed person is only half of the equation. Two nights ago, a woman ran in front of my car while I was driving on my way to tango. I still can’t quite put it all together to make one big picture. It’s come to me in pieces. I saw a bike on the sidewalk and her on the other side of my car. I thought I had killed someone.

I pulled over at the first opportunity and ran back to see if she was okay. A crowd had already gathered. The woman was standing and I was hysterical. The EMTs and law enforcement arrived. All witnesses supported my account: she literally ran straight in front of me. I had slammed on my brakes so hard that my back seats came unhinged and the contents of my trunk were scattered in the back of my car.

All I could do was cry and I wasn’t the one who nearly got bowled over by a vehicle going 30 MPH. This is one of those times in life where I’m convinced some sort of divinity was looking out for me. The witnesses to the accident stood around me, telling me it was going to be okay and that I’m a good person who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I also think it’s worth mentioning the kindest of them all was a gay man out celebrating his birthday with his mother and his fiancé. I’ve literally lost count of how many times a gay man has come to my rescue. For those of you who still live in the stone age and view these lovely human beings as sinners and something less than human, F*CK YOU! Seriously. I have a lot to say about my own perception of the struggle for equality. I’ll save it for another time in the near future.

As it turns out, this woman was darting in and out of traffic because she thought she saw money in the road. Holy f*cking hell. I’ve felt desperate from time to time in life, but I don’t think I’ve ever been that desperate. There was some speculation that she was high on drugs. I make no moral judgments. We all deal with pain our own way. Some of us can face it, some of us ignore it, and some of us just need an escape and find that escape in very bad places. I gave her all the cash I had on me. I hope that went to something that was beneficial for her.

The entire situation makes me sick to my stomach. This woman who was ready to sacrifice her life for pocket change in the road had a man with her. My instincts told me something wasn’t right about it. She seemed afraid of him and that made me feel even more badly for her. I think what upsets me the most is that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do for her.

I was too shaken up to drive home. The wonderful man who was the greatest comfort to me called my brother from my phone and he and his fiancé gave me the world’s longest hug while I sobbed myself to exhaustion. My brother came to pick me up and drove me home. Since this ordeal, I’ve felt as if I’m barely in touch with reality. My hound is a comfort. Tango is a comfort. Even my job is comforting. Despite these wonderful things, I’m feeling quite detached from the world . . . I also feel as if I could cry for days. The effects of these lovely aspects in my life are only temporary. I guess I’m still in some form of shock.

In other news – the question that seems to be on most people’s mind is my dating life. If people are asking me when I’m going to start dating again they’re asking if I need to be comforted . . . . sickos. No thank you, sir. I do not need your comfort and I don’t want the comfort of whomever else you have in mind for me, either. I'll be just fine. 

"Nothing if permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles." - Charlie Chaplin

The Perfect Trifecta

“So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.” -  Slyvia Plath

When the dust finally settled from the departure of my beloved Miss Cassie I returned to tango with the urging of a great friend. I am so very happy to be dancing again – even more so at the moment because I’ve been experiencing withdrawal symptoms due to the gift that keeps on giving: the wretched flu. The damn thing knocked me on my arse for a little over a week.

Since returning to tango I’ve had an entire new set of observations. Perhaps the most startling epiphany was the realization of how very shy I actually am. It’s a bizarre thing. I’m outgoing enough. I make a point of talking to people who are obviously new to tango, have come alone, or are just having a tough night. What’s killing me at the moment is the cabaceo. I only dance with a person I’m comfortable with – which is generally with men who are old enough to be my father. It’s my comfort zone.  I find myself not only making extreme attempts to avoid eye contact with a lot of people, but also blushing and quickly turning away if eye contact is accidentally made.

I do this, too. Lame.

I’ve reflected a little on my strange reaction to men my age. The only conclusion I can come to is that my male counterparts intimidate me. I don’t pretend to know why and I foresee more years of therapy in my near future. I have to remind myself from time to time that I have come a long way. There was a time I couldn’t bear to be around a male presence because I was terrified. My only grievance with this part of my personality is that I’m quite certain I come across as a snob and this couldn’t be further from the truth.

I might have been a shark in my past life.

I judge myself enough for ten people. I don’t need anyone else to add to the mix. I recently discovered that one of the trademarks of PTSD is survivor’s guilt. That new little bit of knowledge explained quite a bit. I feel guilty about damn near everything and am always asking ‘Why?’ What have I done in lifetime that warrants the life I have now compared to others who were brought up in similar if not identical situations? I cry for the people I knew who barely survived it and are left with severe emotional scars, a dead end life and drug addictions. I cry for the sister I haven’t seen in nearly 20 years. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. I’m afraid to look because I’m afraid of the answer. I have to keep telling myself that their lives are out of my control and there wasn’t anything I could have done differently to make things better for them. I have to keep repeating that to myself until I finally believe it. I’m not there yet.

"The worst guilt is to accept an unearned guilt." - Ayn Rand

Something else from the tango realm has been a bit of a grievance. Since I’ve returned to tango I’ve crossed paths with a couple of folks that I never cared to see again. It’s not a huge community. It was bound to happen eventually. My grievance is that they ask me to dance. When you know I don’t like or trust you, why bother? I don’t turn them down because I don’t want to make a scene. I dance with them and am on my highest form of alert the entire time. In fact, I’m working extra hard when I dance with them so I’m not the recipient of some a**hat’s short fuse. Not only do they ask me to dance every time they run into me, but they also close embrace me and I do not like it. My assumption is that one person forgot that he did not treat me with kindness when I first started tango and the other is trying to get under my skin in the most underhanded way possible. Still, these are assumptions and not proven truths.

I'd much rather do this when I'm asked to dance by an unsavory character. 

All grievances aside, tango is still something I look forward to every week despite being a wretched shy, blushing thing and catering to a couple of people I really don’t care for. I can’t wait to snuggle up next to one of my favorite people and share a wonderful dance.

An ethereal form of serenity.

I was raving to a friend about tango recently. I had a breakup but wasn’t upset about it because life is so pleasant at the moment. I have a job I love, a basset hound that I adore and tango. As she pointed out, it’s the perfect trifecta. I’m not bothered by being single. In fact, it’s nice to not have someone demanding that I cater to their every whim. It’s nice to have the freedom to do my own thing and just be. It’s a lovely life. Nothing beats a doting dog, a fulfilling job and tango cuddling.

Who could ever resist this face?!

Sometimes I think I should start dating again; this is mainly because the society around me thinks I must be flawed because I’m single. I have issues with this because I have no desire whatsoever to invite another person in my life and anytime the thought of dating even crosses my mind I immediately browse through the dating ads on craigslist just to remind me that there’s mainly smut and bottom feeders waiting for me. No thank you. I’ll take my simple, perfect little trinity. 

Running Counterclockwise

“Those who don’t know how to suffer are the worst off. There are times when the only correct thing we can do is bear out troubles until a better day.” – Deng Ming-Dao

Our life is made up of victories and defeats, of miracles and grievances, and of joy and pain. I’ve had a small set back. I’m still waiting to see how it pans out this time around. That’s the thing with PTSD – to me, it feels like it comes out of nowhere for no reason whatsoever. That’s my frustration and this is my grievance. I’m learning to take it in stride, recognize it before it overwhelms me and am still working on keeping the raging ocean of emotions to small ripples instead of tsunamis. This is my victory and I’m not finished with it yet. My guess is I have to pass the same face of the mountain a few more times until I reach the top. 

Maybe when things feel like they're falling apart it's really all falling into place.

I’m asked what can be done to help me. The grievance is that I don’t know the answer to that question. I don’t know how to stop the cycle once it starts. The miracle is that I’m being asked what can be done. The tough exterior I’ve carried for most of my life is wearing thin and those that spend a lot of time with me recognize when I’m troubled. I count this as a miracle as well. I’m far more transparent than I used to be and can’t shut out those closest to me. 

Part of my fear lies in a new transition in life. As a recent college graduate, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m weighing out my options, trying to decide what will be the most rewarding to me in the long run. I have a goal in sight; I just have to jump through more hoops to get there while wondering how on earth I’m going to support myself if I’m in the strange juxtaposition of being too qualified or under qualified. I feel as if the exchange I’ll ultimately have to make is the sacrifice of my own sense of fulfillment for stability by means of income.

I try not to think that far ahead, but I find myself doing it anyway. In my worst nightmare, I’m dancing on a pole so I can spend my days volunteering in the hopes of getting an ‘in’ with the type of work that would give me a sense of fulfillment. I hope it never comes to that – but desperation drives us to do things we never thought ourselves capable. This is my grievance.

Sometimes I feel like singing and howling at the moon simultaneously. 

Even on my worst days, when I want to throw in the towel and drown myself in a river of tears, I still have people that love me and cheer me on. When I feel like I'm going to lose myself and life seems overwhelming, I'm given a shoulder to cry on. This is my miracle. 

“The bad things in life open your eyes to the good things you weren’t paying attention to before.”  - Good Will Hunting

Mr. Tanguero

“Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.” – Mark Twain 

While compiling my last blog, I was simultaneously in the midst of a conflict with Mr. Tanguero. I was hoping for the best outcome, I truly was – but it didn’t happen. Pity. I was just starting to warm up to him.

He called me just before class. I had previously left him a voicemail asking him if he wanted to spend a little bit of time with me on two specified days of the week. With midterms approaching, I just don’t have much free time on my hands, and it is sporadic at best. In fact, I should be studying for an exam tomorrow instead of typing these words – but I know my thoughts will plague me until I get them out.

The first thing Mr. Tanguero does after greeting me on the phone is ask if I was the one who fell at the milonga last Sunday. Someone did fall, but it wasn’t me. He responded thusly, “Okay. I’ll spread the word.” What the hell?  I know tango can be cliquish and exclusive, but this came across to me as borderline gossip and rumor spreading – and this is the sort of thing that really gets under my skin. He then proceeds to chide me for ‘not putting as much effort into practicas as I do milongas’. I know I’m still bad at tango. I know I should practice. Here is what’s currently preventing me from doing so: 1. I have only such much time and money. Perhaps if I had time for a real job during my last term of college I could afford to fund practicas and the time to put a decent effort into it. For now, I only work to barely scrape by because I have a demanding course load 2. I don’t have anyone to practice with. Mr. Tanguero asked if I wanted to be his practice partner – we only practiced once. 3. I spent my first three months of tango as a lead - I am now only just learning to follow. On another note, I have much respect for the leads, because it is difficult and challenging. For the record, I wasn't a very good lead. 

Despite my poor form and many flaws, I've thoroughly enjoyed every dance. I can only hope my leads feel the same way. 

I ended the phone call as class was starting. It was a review night for an exam. I was still processing the conversation we had. I felt like Mr. Tanguero was playing into the cliquish nature of tango, clinging to an imaginary or existing status from which to nit-pick at my form, the fall that didn’t involve me, and my need to practice more. I sent him a message telling him I was annoyed with the rumor spreading aspect of tango that I’ve seen on more than one occasion and asked why he was playing a part in that. I pointed to the fact that I never mention names in my blogs and my reason for this is that it can lead to rumors and a malicious outcome. I just don’t see the purpose because nothing good can come from it.

He responds that if communicating with me would ‘trigger such feelings, it’s best not to go there. I do not care to deal with such issues.’ This took me by surprise. Obviously something I said had upset him. I sent another message and did what I always do: take the blame for everything by apologizing profusely for something that’s out of my control. I apologized, but still stood my ground. I do not believe in participating in gossip because it’s juvenile and cruel. His last response indicated more anger. From my perspective, my message was not being received as intended. I wanted to clear this up.

I leave the class exam review to call him. He is hostile with me. There were f-bombs all over the place, name calling and he said I was far ‘too thinned skinned and his day was great until now' and a good dose of 'You. You. You'. Ouch. This is not how conflict should be handled. Again, I apologize – still not knowing what I said to set him off. Because his anger was so intense, I made a point of using nothing but owned messages. After twenty minutes of verbal abuse I had to tell him I needed to return to class. I simply couldn’t take any more.

That's what it felt like: you. You. YOU!!!!

“It is wise to direct your anger towards problems – not people; to focus your energies on answers – not excuses.” – William Arthur Ward

When class was over and I had time to calm down (his consistent verbal negativity brought me to the point of tears) I called him. Again doing what I do best – apologizing for something that really wasn’t my issue to begin with. He was calmer. He said we were both sensitive. Both of us?, I thought to myself. I think not. I can’t recall a time that I verbally attacked someone unprovoked and for no apparent reason whatsoever. Still, I thought this situation could be fixed. I asked him about the two days I had available. He declined last minute on one of them and told me beforehand that he was attending a practica with someone. He didn’t mention who that ‘someone’ was. I didn’t ask; I didn’t feel the need to as I’m not the jealous type.

I make no assumptions about his intent. If he was hoping to make me feel this way with his vague statements and actions at the milonga,  it wasn't working. 

I went to bed and my first epiphany of the day when I woke up the following morning was that this guy scared the hell out of me. His words cut through me and made me feel powerless. I can’t be involved with someone that instills fear in me. This wasn’t a good sign. He called me later that day. I didn’t pick up my phone – I simply didn’t know what to say. I knew I needed to end things. I just wasn’t quite ready to face him yet.

Last night I attended one of the Sunday milongas. He's quite involved with this event in addition to a few others that are consistent volunteers. I remember him saying to me early on that we would always dance the first and last tanda together because ‘we’re a couple now’. I arrived to the milonga with a book he loaned to me so I could return it and tell him I’m done with the relationship. He was already dancing with someone. The tanda ended and he approached me. He asked me if I wanted to dance. I obliged. As we proceed to dance he’s consistently correcting my form: my head was too close to his, I wasn't on my axis, my steps were too wide, blah, blah, blah. I’ve already admitted I dance poorly – and I don’t see that I can do much about it until I finish my last term and find a decent paying job; I haven’t resorted to pole dancing yet.

I had a few dances. I know there are many who avoid me like the plague. I’m assuming this is because I’m new, still learning, and not perfect and graceful as many of the lovely tango ladies are – or perhaps I’m sending out some bad vibes which is why I attract men such as Mr. Tanguero into my life.

Mr. Tanguero danced the last tanda with his ex. I’ve never seen her before. Someone told me I was 'an improvement'. I feel lied to. She’s quite stunning. I watched him during the first song of the set. He kissed her forehead several times. A friend informed me that he went out of his way to touch her.  It was obvious that something was going on – but I didn’t care because I was ending things. . . . Whatever this thing was exactly. My only grievance is that he didn’t have the balls to tell me himself.

I danced the last few songs of the tanda with one of my favorite people. When it ended, I grabbed the book from my bag and waited for Mr. Tangeuro to be available. He approached me and hugged me. I immediately gave him the book. I told him I was afraid to be alone with him. This is the truth. He smiled and asked, “Really?” Sorry. Your (currently) calm demeanor doesn’t fool me; I know how ugly you can be. I responded with, “Yes” as I grabbed my things and walked out the door.

If the thought of being alone with you makes me afraid - I think the Universe is speaking very loudly to me. 

I have not heard a peep from him. I’m sure he knows why he scares me. I don’t mind being around him if there are others present, but never alone.  Based on my experience, seeing a switch that can flip that quickly is a prelude to worse forms of abuse. Also, he seems to have moved on already. This is definitely a person that operates out of impulsiveness, and this is not the type of influence I need or want in my life right now. Lastly, I told him I was overwhelmed in the beginning and that I wasn't sure if I was ready for this intensity. Basically, he told me to ignore those feelings. I should have seen that as a red flag as well.

If I'm completely honest with myself, I can admit that I'm still not over my former Beloved: the memories, the loss of a beautiful friendship. I'm just not ready for any form of intimacy right now. I still sometimes cry when I talk about him and how things ended. The thought of a relationship, the emotions, the bonding, the vulnerability - everything that comes with the territory - is overwhelming. 

Ripples, Waves and Tsunamis

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” - Rumi

I’m thinking that maybe there is no end to this process – there is no end to refinement. This is how the Universe has chosen to refine me. So be it . . . and the revelations will no doubt continue. 

The swelling of emotions subsided long enough for me to feel as if I have some grounding. It’s been hitting me in waves now and sometimes I am able to stand on the shore watching the waves lap at my feet. On good days, it’s a ripple effect; the pain is still there, but it’s containable. 

 

Sometimes I hope for a place of solitude . . .  some form of escape.

Sometimes I find myself hit with a wave of emotion that is so strong I can’t sort out what’s what. I don’t know what’s upsetting me. I don’t know the source of my anguish, only that it’s there and it’s time for me to face it and sift through until I find something that makes sense. I have a full arsenal of things that could be the cause, but there’s really only a few pieces that fit within a specific experience.

In all things, I do my best to act with love. For me, this means putting myself aside at times. It means putting on a smile when all I want to do is cry. It means listening to someone else’s heartache when I’m working through my own and trying to help them solve their problems. It's not easy. True story.

There it is. The aching.

I’ve been getting better at allowing myself to cry. For a long time I didn’t and with this wave of pain has come a force of trembling that I can’t control. I’ve been turning this over in my mind the last few days. As it turns out there is a scientific explanation . . .  and I can now say that studying anatomy and neuroscience wasn’t a full waste of time in the long run.

We share a very basic primitive area of the brain with our mammalian brethren. These are known as the reptilian and limbic brains. This area of the brain is a storehouse of emotional memory and is instantly activated the moment we sense any danger. The amygdala does not wait for instructions from the cognitive, conscious sectors of the brain. It simply acts. In fact, the amygdala allows us to act before we know why by triggering a biochemical cascade. I could describe this, but I’ll spare you. Basically, it’s a quick injection of various stress hormones into the bloodstream. 

What does this look like? You may wonder. The result is a hyper alertness that we’ve all come to know as the fight or flight response. This state of awareness is intense; it’s a dramatic jolt of energy similar to the thrill of an amusement park ride, bungee humping, or general jitters before performing.

 This is on my bucket list of things to do. Okay .  . it's really bungee jumping - but skydiving will be added.

Scientists are now adding a third type of response: freeze. Think of a deer in headlights. The freeze response is activated when there is no hope, meaning nothing proactive can be done to save oneself. This is an unconscious and instinctual immobility reflex. Disassociation is a common coping mechanism in the event of a freeze response, which is a mental form of physically separating ourselves from the threat.

This freeze response overrides any feasible possibility of fighting or running. This feeling of helplessness is strongly linked as a precursor to the development of PTSD. Unlike the fight or flight response, there is no release of energy from the triggered build up of stress chemicals. Our mammalian kin, acting with the same brain as the human species when responding to stress have ways of discharging this energy when the perceived threat is gone: they tremble, shake shudder, perspire and take a series of deep breaths when the trembling has passed.

 Is it over? I keep asking even though I know the answer.

 . . .  and there you have it. I’m getting in touch with the mammalian part of my brain – the I didn't acknowledge when all of this starting manifesting in ways I didn’t understand. The threat(s) are gone; I have to let the emotions come out now.

I remember my very first therapist telling me that this process would be like stirring a pot: the stuff from the bottom makes its way to the surface. It’s true. I do not like it, but I know the band-aids won't last forever.

I don’t know why, but thoughts and memories of my mother have surfaced. Part of her has made me. Part of her is in my genetic code. She scares me and I’m terrified of being her. While I can accept these fears and I can accept how her actions have dramatically affected my sense of security, identity, stability and will likely be present in any relationship I attempt to form – I acknowledge that I have to learn to forgive so I can let go. Maybe it's not even that; maybe I just need to let go. The hard part for me here is that when it comes to her, I don’t know how. I’m a bit lost at the moment.

Not only lost, but kind of at a standstill. Where do I go from here? 

I found myself once again crying and trembling and as much as I fought to control it, it wouldn’t be contained. I had to ask myself again, “Where is this coming from?” When I feel connected to someone emotionally and then there’s a day or two of nothing but silence, the feelings of abandonment resurface. At last I was able to make a connection: I felt the same way I did as a little girl when she left me with strangers,  when she left me for good in Georgia and her presence that was in and out of my life for what felt like an eternity as a child. Still, I remember desperately wanting her to love me. She never did.

For now there will crying and trembling. I accept it –  in waves, ripples or tsunamis. 

 I like to think we all get to visit this place at least once.

“Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” - Rumi

I'm Dreaming

“You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting”  - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

More than once over the last few days I’ve thought I must be dreaming.  I’m breathless. I’m speechless. I can’t find the words to describe how much he means to me. Apparently I’m also without balance because I nearly keeled over  thinking I would die from joy the last time I was with him. Since then, it has become apparent to me why my then boyfriend was so pissed off when I spent time with him. I just didn’t see it then . . .  but I do now. How could I have missed it?

The surreal state I’m in continues. I am overjoyed and I recently realized I’m scared as hell. I have what can only be described as just plain ugly whenever I experience a relapse. These states leave me anxious, fearful and angry. I finally came out of the last one after nearly two years. Why so long? Because I crossed paths with some asshole and his actions managed to undo nearly three years of progressive therapy.  I wish I could just dump the memories and leave the emotions behind, but it doesn’t work that way. I have to trudge through them sometimes and I don’t want him exposed to that. Ever. I want to shield him from it.

I’m already worried that I’ll somehow manage to screw things up and then he’d be gone forever. I hesitated before I kissed him, I hesitated before I laid my soul bare before him because I’d rather have him in my life than not.  I also hesitated because I feared rejection. At least I can say I conquered the fear of the unknown.

Still, I proceed with caution. I’m sure we’ve all experienced this at some point. I’ve been wondering if I’m doing this right.  I wonder if I should call or text . . . am I coming on too strong? Am I not doing enough? Is my mascara running? Does this dress make my butt look big? For the record, I’ve never asked a male that last question because it’s cruel and unnecessary.

He is without a doubt one of the best things that has ever entered my life and if I had known several years ago that our paths would cross again, no one else on earth would have ever existed to me.  Whatever the outcome may be, I know this chapter in my life will be one of the most treasured.