The Blessings We Don't See

“When we lose one blessing, another is often unexpectedly giving in its place” – C.S. Lewis

For every traumatic thing that I’ve had in my life, I’ve had an extremely profound, beautiful and miraculous story to match it. I only realized this in the wee hours of the morning when I stayed up talking with someone that is very dear to me. He was amazed at some of the life experiences I was sharing with him, particularly the one about me abandoned in Georgia.

I've felt pretty lost since I was left there. I'm still trying to find my way.

I wound up in Georgia just after my father died. My mother left me there with people who were strangers to me. My time there wasn’t bad, I was just heart broken, scared and longing for my family. I talked to the woman who cared for me about them. I remember her going through one phone book after another until she found my grandmother. That is arguably the most profound miracle of my life so far and if that’s not proof of some form of a divine plan from the universe or some form of higher power, I have no idea what is.

Something somewhere, someone somewhere, or Fate in my petty understanding of the Universe was looking out for me. 

I won’t do her justice with the words that follow, but I’ll try to describe my caregiver in Georgia. I haven’t seen her since she flew to California with me and brought me back into the arms of my grandmother. Her name is Myrna and she was a woman with a constant smile on her face. She had a closet that had an endless supply of bright blue muumuus. She lived and breathed in these muumuus. In fact, she worked out to Sweatin’ to the Oldies in the mornings in her muumuu. She was always in one of those bright blue things.

THIS guy. See that blue? Now I know where she got her fashion trend tips. 

Myrna was an endless giver. She made sandwiches to hand out to the construction workers who volunteered to repair the home of a community member after it was ripped to shreds by a tornado. She did this every day. Myrna was a lover of cats. If I remember correctly, she had around 18 of them. When it was feeding time and the herd of cats swarmed on the porch, she would count them and say out loud, “Sammy is missing.” To this day, that still amazes me.

For Pete's sake! I do well to remember my own pin code and this woman could remember the names of each of these cats.            

The determination and moral compass of one woman granted me another year with my grandmother and I’m eternally grateful for that. It’s hard for me to recognize these miraculous events in my life when I’m too consumed with telling myself what I failure and horrible human being I am. Some people know how to throw some knock out punches with their words. It was a mistake to even acknowledge those words because they came from a bad place – someone angry and bitter.

Myrna took me to visit a farm once. The farmhouse was a light shade of blue set on a backdrop of a sea of waving green grass that danced in the morning breeze. I could hear the long, lowing sounds of cows in the distance. The interior of the farmhouse was warm, an  inviting contrast from the brisk morning air. The aroma of cookies baking in the oven beckoned visitors to come inside. It seemed as if everything inside of the farmhouse was blue: the carpets which enveloped my bare feet, the flowered pattern on the yellow wallpaper, the dishes, the tablecloth, even the coffee pot.

I walked outside and stepped into the tall grass. I ran the stalks through my fingers as I trudged through it, the morning dew clinging to the palm of my hand. I felt lost in the middle of the emerald, pastured, sea; I wanted to be lost. I made my way over to the cows, reaching my small hand through the barbed wire fence. Cautiously, one approached, lowering her head to sniff my outstretched fingers. She let me brush her nose and I laughed with contentment. I heard my name called in the distance, and slowly made my way back to the blue farmhouse.

Driving home that evening, I was dazzled by the sight of fireflies leaping and glowing in the field. Because this was a new experience for me, Myrna pulled over and let me chase after fireflies for a few minutes. I caught one. It looked like fairy dust in my hands. I closed my eyes and made a wish. I had no knowledge of the validity of wishes, only that it gave me something to hold and hope for. I held the firefly in my hands, letting it illuminate my path back to the car. The memory of the firefly has stayed with me over the years and has served to remind me that a ray of light can be found even in the darkest of times, no matter how small it may be.   

Sometimes we need another perspective on our life experiences to make us realize how blessed we have been. For that, Mr. Object of My Affection Always Running 5 hours late – I thank you. You are an amazing human being. You are a rock even though you don't see it. Have you found me yet?

I'd say several lifetimes. 

“Reflect on your present blessings – of which every man has many – not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.” – Charles Dickens

Proceed With Caution

“I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions”  - Augusten Burroughs, Magical Thinking: True Stories

I recognize that I’m a deeply flawed person. To some degree, I think we all are. I’m broken and I’m trying to put the pieces back together. I’m probably not good relationship material, either. While I give fair warning to those that want to step beyond the bounds of friendship, I get the impression that he thinks he can ‘fix’ me – that he’s my knight in shining armor that has come to rescue me from my pathetic life. I’m not meant to be fixed or saved. This is something that only I can do and I’m working on it.

A friend recently told me that what I need is a rock; I see a lot of truth in that. I’m working on fixing myself. I can’t help someone else make repairs in their own life. If I need anyone in this life, it's someone who can hold me up without expecting me to cater to his every whim. I'm just not capable. Sorry. 

A misunderstanding took place between my former boyfriend and I. Before the relationship started, before the friendship started, I told him I wasn’t sure that I’m ready for a relationship. In other words, proceed with caution and enter at your own risk. Perhaps the biggest mistake I made was letting him stay with me to escape the heat from the campus dorm. We hadn’t known each other that long, and it was far too soon for something like that.

Did I mention his incessant paranoia? I think it was contagious.

I think we did our best to accommodate each other. He helped me when I was stretched too thin and I adjusted my own habits and time to make more time for him because he felt he was competing for my attention. Then there was a Friday. I had literally just finished volunteering my time to one of my former professors and was getting ready that Friday morning for two interviews. As I’m sorting through suits and applying makeup, I hear a lot of banging on the other end of the house. I went to see what on earth was going on.

I see him there, shoving things into bags. I asked him what he was doing. He said he was leaving. Of course, this took me by surprise because there had been no prior discussion and here I am trying to prepare myself for two interviews when he drops a bomb on me. His timing couldn’t have been worse. He assured me that it was no fault of mine and said there was too much tension and it was time to go.

The weeks leading up to this, his behavior was a bit erratic. He said he felt like he was competing for my attention in tango and I got the impression that he felt like he was competing for my attention when it came to my dogs. I always danced the most tandas with him. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to always ensure he had a good evening. My dogs, on the other hand, have been with me longer than any human being and have given me so much love and support – of course they hold a special place in my heart.

These beautiful creatures have been my steadfast companions through the good, bad, and just plain ugly. I love them above all else. 

I received a few messages from him the week leading up to last Friday. He wasn’t feeling well and there was nothing worthwhile in the contents of these messages, as it was just his day to day activities. That week gave me a lot of time to think about what a future with him would look like. It wasn’t what I wanted. Not even close. I realized I was nearly bored to tears and felt like I was dating an 80-year-old man. Not good, but I was willing to attempt to work it out and give it another try.

He shows up to the milonga last Friday, doesn’t approach me and makes no eye contact whatsoever. Fine, I thought to myself. I’m not going to let him bring me down when I have no clue why he's behaving this way. Eventually, he asks if we can talk. I oblige and we step outside. I’m angry and it’s obvious. I’m angry because I felt his actions were selfish and he knew that I had important things lined up on the day he left. I’m angry because he already knows I have issues of trust and insecurity and springing something on me last minute is not the best of moves.

I would say: Game Over. Rather than married. I couldn't find an appropriate photo. Don't. Judge. Me.

So we’re talking it out. He mentions my trust issues. I pointed my finger at his chest and poked him saying, Of course I have trust issues. You knew that already. He got quite defensive and told me not to touch him. I threw my hands up and said something along the lines of, “F*ck this. I’m done talking for now.” I was frustrated because he needed to be pacified and I just don’t have that in me. I’m trying to hold myself together. Thanks.

I finish out the night. I had nothing else to say and no desire to try to communicate with him any further until we’d both taken a breather. So, I was a bit surprised when I received an e-mail from him the next morning.

He was vicious and biting. He laid out my flaws and outlined the grand life I would have had with him if I hadn’t given up. Given up? Perhaps he hadn’t heard the ‘for now’ portion. Then again, maybe he chose not to. He went on about my abusive behavior and lifestyle that would leave me dead by the time I’m 30. I find it all laughable. I rarely lash out – ever. In fact, I chose my words very carefully around him because he was a sensitive soul. There’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t judge that type of personality. I acknowledged that aspect of his being and was very careful with my choice of words and tone. As for me dying before I’m 30, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I’ve climbed up the same hills he has and never needed to take a break because I have more endurance and was by far the most active one in the relationship. My health is perfectly fine.

I do my victory dance when I reach the top, not when I'm half way there. 

This is where I’d like to say I took the high road. I didn’t. I was just as juvenile and hit below the belt just as much. Why? Because it was petty and I lowered myself to his level of communication. I’m not proud of it – but still, I did it. He said he felt exploited. Really? After staying in my house for weeks on end? I barely asked him for anything, just a little help around the house. Truth be told, I felt exploited. I exerted so much patience and understanding through some major relationship issues – he still chose to blame them on me.

The ironic thing is that after I hit ‘send’ I began laughing uncontrollably at the ridiculousness of it all. This is about as belittling and juvenile as human beings can get – and I was an active participant. I laughed because he knows how resilient I am and that I could care less what others think of me. Who’s going to survive the nuclear holocaust? Ava; because in my past life I was a cockroach. Cut off a part of me and I grow back like a starfish. There are few things that phase me when it comes to words or gossip regarding my character.

Resilience: The courage to come back . . . over and over again.

That’s the thing about repeated exposure to trauma. It’s a double edged sword. I am extremely resilient, yet find it difficult to relate to others who cannot understand what I’ve been through and are traumatized by third person events. One of your childhood friends died in a car accident; you weren’t involved and now you’re scared of large vehicles and driving? I found my father’s dead body. I was abandoned by my mother. I watched my grandmother die. I’ve been exploited for someone else’s financial or social gain my entire life. My childhood friend died because her mother tweaked out and shot her along with her siblings. I could go on and on with one sob story after another. No. If you’re upset by something like a car crash, I cannot relate to you.

I was a bit bummed the days that followed our encounter. So, Ava, you’ve failed yet again. That’s what I thought to myself. I’m a total and complete failure. I’ve failed at any form of success whatsoever whether it be in life, love, or the stinking job market.

As I’ve been cleaning, I stumbled across one of my Rumi books. I loaned my personal copy to him. I rarely do that. Also, he wrote in it. For Pete’s sake, he may as well have taken my personal journal and scribbled in it. I feel the urge to burn that copy and purchase a new one while reminding myself why I don’t lend my personal things. There are few things that are precious to me – my favorite books happen to be one of them.

I’ve wanted to retreat back into myself and hide away. A good friend of mine told me to forgive myself a little because I gave him fair warning. Another friend told me to pick myself up and try again. I’ll compromise. I won’t hide – but I’m not marketing myself for relationships, either. I’ve failed in the dating world: I fell in love once, and somehow I managed to screw it up. He may never truly know how much he meant to me. It burns.

Just getting away for a while would be nice. I don't care where. 

While I can admit my heart is certainly not the first to be broken, all I can ask the male population is this: be a friend to me. I’m far more complicated than a pretty face and fun-loving nature. While I’m friendly, outgoing and down to earth, deep down is a very fragile soul. Handle with care and proceed with caution. 

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will."  - Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

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

The Process of Transformation

“Healing may not be so much about getting better, as about letting go of everything that isn’t you – all of the expectations, all of the beliefs – and becoming who you are.” – Rachel Naomi Remen

It’s been 4 months and counting since I came out of my last relapse. I’m proud to say that this is a record for me. In conversation with a former professor, I told him how much I appreciated his research in brining science and spirituality together. It was my sense of survival that I found in spirituality that kept me moving forward – finding glimpses of joy when I felt I had none. Working with chakras helped me see that.

Nature has a strong effect on the chakras . . . .and dancing. Definitely dancing. And also wolves. That's my thing - don't question it; just let it happen.

What’s most surprising to me is that this professor who had dedicated most of his life to psychology said he could detect no symptoms of PTSD in my personality. How about that? I’m not dancing and rejoicing yet, because I know there’s a possibility of another trigger – but I’m hoping it’s not just wishful thinking on my part that I hashed out the worst of the worst when I finally realized the source of my anger and hurt.

I think it took a long time before I was ready to see that. I spent the better part of a year cutting people out of my life that weren’t good for me and I was quite lonely for a while. However, this forced me to look inward without the ability to distract myself with the issues, drama, and world views of another.

Trust is learned by our upbringing, I think. It takes patience to foster.  

For some time, people just didn’t recognize me – I had transformed that much.

A dear friend compared me to a butterfly once, because I fought so hard to come out of the cocoon. 

In his lecture, Healing the Luminous Body: The Way of the Shaman, Dr. Alberto Villoldo speaks of how trauma imprints us. He gives an example of a female patient who had seven relationships throughout her lifetime. Her relationship with these seven men each ended in the same place. She eventually discovered that she had had the same relationship with seven different men. By understanding our luminous body – the same concept demonstrated by Dr. Fritz-Albert Popp’s research – we have the ability to heal ourselves.

For now, I’ll rejoice in the transformation while recognizing there’s still a long way to go. I keep my mind open and attempt to do the same with my heart, however guarded it may be.

"Healing does not mean going back to the way things were before, but rather allowing what is now to move us closer to God." - Ram Dass

My heart will shine again, too. I know it. Compassion and love stem from the same place, right? 

Ignorance is Bliss

“The mad man drowns in the same waters in which the mystic swims with delight” – Joseph Campbell

I arranged for a planned encounter with the former beloved recently. It suddenly dawned on me that it had been well over six months since we drew daggers at one another and I was very much missing my favorite pair of turquoise feather earrings that I left in his room. 

I chatted away, asking him about life and the former beloved was stoic as usual. I mentioned my work with one of my former professors and getting to sit in on his psychology of spirituality course. Something the professor said gave me one of those ‘wow’ moments: Photons move in the same direction as DNA. I was explaining this to the former beloved. He gave me the look that silently told me I was feeble minded and said it was like comparing soft to black. I told him ignorance is bliss.

I don’t really believe that ignorance is bliss. However, I do recognize the need to keep a sense of wonder about the world. This is what moves us. I feel sorry for the beloved. He told me once he was trying to find his heart. I don’t think he will unless he’s willing to keep an open mind and that makes me sad for him.

As it turns out, Mr. Former-beloved-denial-pants, science and spirituality are beginning to find common ground and we may be witnessing a new renaissance; an awakening of world asleep for far too long. I imagine he’d still frown on what I’m about to say and find some flaw in my form of logic or the research I’m about to mention. To each their own, I guess.

I’ve heard the title ‘Father of Light’ bestowed on many, usually artists of some form. I think the true champion of this title is Dr. Fritz-Albert Popp. For the record, his research in biophoton emission has given weight to many spiritual claims that we are beings of light.

An old documentary filmed in the laboratory at the International Institute of Biophysics shows an experiment conducted by Dr. Popp. He opens a chamber approximately the size of a bread box and in this dark chamber he places a fresh cutting from a plant and a wooden match inside a plastic container and closes the light proof door. Dr. Popp then immediately switches on the photomultiplier and an image is shown on the computer screen: the match stick is black while the green, glowing silhouette of the leaves are clearly visible. Dr. Popp then says, “We now know, today, that man is essentially a being of light.”

Another claim backed by Dr. Popps research, “Biophoton emission and absorption are empirically measurable phenomenon of all living systems . . . There are about 100,000 chemical reactions happening in every cell with each second. The chemical reaction can only happen if the molecule which is reacting and excited by a photon . . .  Once the photon has excited a reaction is returns to the field and is available for more reactions. . . We are swimming in an ocean of light.”

Come on in. The water's fine. 

Popp applied his findings of electro-magnetic molecular signaling to acupuncture. According to the Chinese practice, the human body has a system of meridians, running deep in the tissue, through which flows ch'i, the life force. The ch’I enters the body through these acupuncture points and flows deeper into the organ structures, providing energy. Illness occurs when this energy is blocked at any point along the pathways. As Dr. Popp examined this Eastern practice, he noted that the meridian system transmits specific energy waves to specific zones of the body. Research has shown that many of the acupuncture points have a dramatically reduced electrical resistance compared with the surrounding skin. Dr. Robert Becker, an orthopaedic surgeon, has done extensive research on EM fields in the body and has designed an electrode recording device. His many studies have shown electrical charges on every one of the individuals tested corresponding to the Chinese meridian points.

We are beings of light woven together by a fabric we don’t yet fully understand.

I know a number of people who study varying forms of science. While differing practices love to bicker over which discipline is best, I hear the same thing said over and over again: The more I try to understand, the more I realize I don’t know and we’re all part of some unseen pattern. What exactly it is that they’re trying to understand is their study of the human body, biology, astronomy and physics.

The holistic way of perceiving the world mirrors the teachings of ancient civilizations such as the Inca. Buddhist and Hindu teachings have long told us that everything is energy dancing in form, and that the dance is a continuous weaving of the form and the formless. Now research from the frontiers of science is telling us the same thing. I am personally convinced that the close embrace in tango opens the heart chakra to one’s dance partner. I haven’t spent time researching, measuring levels of oxytocin, endorphins and other ‘feel good’ body rush chemical reactions, or conducting personal interviews – it’s just a hunch.

My favorite way to connect with the Divine.

I’m not saying my view of the world is correct, either – only I like to keep my mind open to the possibilities, even if science has not caught up with them yet. I can only glean from my personal experiences. When I quit trying to figure it all out, when I stopped and just listened - the answers began to come. 

Beauty Is Truth's Smile

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only love.” – Mother Theresa

I was told this would be a cherished time in my life. While the source of that pearl of wisdom may be right, I just can’t see it right now. Her stance was that men won’t always find me attractive and now that they’re practically throwing themselves at my feet I should relish in it as long as I can. Honestly, I don’t want to and I could care less about the attention.

From the way she talks, one would think I had the face that launched a thousand ships . . .  if you don't know that reference you're dead to me. 

What I’ve wanted – all I’ve wanted is a friend. This is where I have run into snags. I’ve learned that most men and I have a very different definition of what a friend really is. I treat my male friends the same as I treat my female comrades. I’m affectionate – but I have my limits. I do not want to make out with or have sex with a male friend; I think this goes far beyond friendship. Because of this very big misunderstanding, I’ve found myself in situations I don’t want to be in and reasserting my boundaries over and over again. I sound and feel like a broken record.

Those experiences aside, I believe that I have loved until it hurts – it hurt very much; and love is reemerging. I’m not celebrating yet because I know there could be another trigger; and that’s okay. I have experienced myself at my worst. I survived it. I can survive it again. I am beginning to feel like I did before all of the bad memories started to resurface, before I was assaulted, because I felt powerless to stop what was occurring in my life. I’m happy and once again finding joy in even the smallest of things. I’m still working on not thinking I’m going to ruin everything I touch, that nothing good can possibly come my way because my existence is somehow a form of cancer. I don’t know what embedded this thought in my mind. I’ve carried it with me for many years and I’m working really hard to snuff it out.

I have grieved the Beloved. I’m still processing. I’m allowing patience for myself and asking the same from others. I don’t want to find that I’m simply leaping from one thing to another just because my heart was broken for a while. I don’t want someone to attempt to ‘fix’ me. It will come on its own; and time has become my new best friend. I’ve seen him (the Beloved) on a couple of occasions. The last time we ran into each other we weren’t both scrambling for the door to get away from one another; we even exchanged a few words.

I have yet to decide if I’m still grieving him or the memories of him. I said once that no matter the outcome, my time with him would be one of the most cherished. It still is. Despite the ending, it still is. If he’s still searching for that part of himself he was struggling to find, I hope it comes to him.

The Universe has so much more for you, Beloved.

My time of mourning seemed to function as some sort of pheromone – or perhaps it is because I’ve been guarding my heart with tenacity and ferocity. I have no idea why this personality quirk would be attractive to anyone.

This is my future - I have accepted it.

I have learned to resist immediately responding to a compliment from a male with, “f*ck off.” I was told by someone with far more intuition and wisdom than I that I give a lot of love to others and I need to extend that to myself. As I’ve attempted to turn some of that energy inward I’m more open to others and don’t look at them like a rabid guard dog that will attack before they get too close. As I learn to trust myself again, I trust the world around me.

These are my guardians - my guidance when I don't know where to go.

On the note of trust, I met someone several weeks ago at a milonga. He introduced himself and said he was in my tango class. While I smiled and was cordial, I remember thinking to myself, “Yeah right, a**hole! I’ve heard it all before.” Seriously – I have heard it all before. I was extremely guarded and suspicious. As it turns out, he is in my tango class. Damn. It.

He did express interest in me from the beginning. I had grown so tired of the attention, so tired of the lies and so tired of the ingenuine that would do anything just to have my attention for a second. I didn’t want the attention. I didn’t want the connection . . .  I merely wanted to hole myself away for a while.

I can just lay here for a while, right? 

I was honest with him. I wasn’t ready for a relationship and still trying to get over someone. I didn’t understand what had taken place – it was far bigger than I am. I merely wanted space to sort it out. I asked him for friendship; while he expressed his objection, he honored my request and respected the boundaries I set. He’s granted me the space to approach him at my own pace thus far. 

"Beauty is truth's smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror."  - Rabindranath Tagore

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.