As a general rule, I don’t ask anyone for anything. Not money, favors, even a ride to work or downtown. I’ll spend half the day on the bus before I ask a good friend for a ride that would take 20 minutes of their time. Yet I’ll offer to go WAY out of my way for not only good friends, but people I barely know. I’ll spend all day driving them around. I worry about everybody. I worry that they are suffering or that they might suffer in the future if I don’t do something for them now. I worry too much for everyone else.
Yesterday I was sitting with Jarad at a sidewalk café, eating crepes and drinking coffee, and I saw a woman crossing the street. I felt myself tense up because although there was hardly any traffic, she seemed to be heading right into the road without looking both ways. I found myself looking for her, feeling ready to jump up or yell in case a car was coming and she hadn’t seen it.
She was fine. At the last second she did look, and no cars were coming. She didn’t look like the unaware type. She was about 40 years old and physically fit. Yet here I was, concerned for her safety over something minor, and ready to act instead of enjoying my crepe.
Of course all of that happened within a minute, but imagine a day FULL of moments like that. That’s my life. It’s not noble, and it’s not healthy. Someone might say to me “you’re really thoughtful and aware, and you just care a lot…” but again, it’s not healthy for my loved ones or myself. It's ten times worse when I’m spending time with friends or a boyfriend. I started going to movies solo a long time ago because I found the movie was far more enjoyable when I ceased worrying about whether or not my companion liked it too. So I removed the companion aspect. The above scenarios are perfect analogies for how I am almost all the time. And the reason it’s not healthy, besides the fact that ridiculous muscle tension and painful jaw clenching became permanent health issues when I started having boyfriends again in ’03, the other reason it’s not healthy is that this worry and tension makes me less fun, and what might otherwise be just a moody moment can become a negative, resentful and argumentative attitude that lasts for hours. “I’ve done all this for you… you take me for granted and don’t appreciate me…” blah blah blah. Yet there I was the whole time, setting the precedent. This all happens mainly with boyfriends, because our lifestyles often involve financially strapped situations and general struggling (sans transportation nor permanent residence) situations where we spend every waking moment together. The ingredients for my Self Destruction. And the destruction of my relationships, if I don’t figure this shit out. Gee I thought by age 32 I’d have it all figured out. Haha. Oh to be young and American and have the luxury of hours, days, weeks to spend thinking about my own psychological problems! What a waste. Life is going on while I worry mine away. I need to fix my ridiculousness.
I’ve been asking Nanette and some family members for favors, even money, this last year. I had never asked anyone for money in my life before this last year. With my parents it felt more like “they never paid for anything when I was younger – certainly they can help now”, plus I’ve been watching all of my friends be totally fine with asking their families for help over the years. I can’t do it without guilt. I’ve also slipped into the habit of complaining about my struggling in front of family. Used to be that I’d never do that, and they never offered to help with anything. I guess they thought I didn’t need it. So people have convinced me that I need to let others know if I need help. The other day my mom commented about people who hint that they are struggling, hoping that others will offer them money. Am I like that? I hope not. I instantly felt guilt and worry. I don’t want to be like that. Where’s the happy medium? I think people who don’t have their own shit together and expect others to come through for them are slackers and losers. I can’t live with people thinking of me like that.
My boyfriend is still a kid. He’s 24 and is fighting the whole responsible adult lifestyle thing. I’ve taken on most of the financial and logistical planning for 5 months now. I’m convinced in the moment that I’m helping, but it builds to resentment eventually. Even extreme frustration and blowups, with me.
Tall ship folk love me because I'll do anything for the boat - cook, take on 5 jobs, run people's errands, listen to everyone's problems and give advice, take charge of a situation when nobody else wants to. Luckily I had Capt. Christopher Trandell as my leader last year: he woke me up to the fact that I was always sacrificing too much or doing too much. "Nobody likes a martyr!" he'd say.
Have I mentioned that I need therapy?
Things to fix:
I worry too much and have a hard time relaxing
I don't trust easily because I was raised by crazies and liars posing as normal folk
I need to find a balance between the nomad/pauper life and the sedentary/ratrace life
I must take better care of MYSELF when in a relationship or on a boat
Folklife fest, Seattle. A HUGE musical and craft celebration of probably 100 different cultures. Man, the center was PACKED on Memorial Day when my sister and I went.
His sign said something about a "struggling young artist". Lots of kids were playing solo to fund class trips, and I swear I saw a 6 year old playing fiddle for money.
Aaron's dream? The largest contra dance I've ever witnessed!
The above display was pretty sexy. These drummers were playing so well, and so fast. The guy in the photo would walk up to women in the audience and make them dance to the beat of his drum. The white girl and the black girl in the middle did that crazy booty shaking thing and the entire crowd applauded them. But this guy was amazing. At first women would resist, shaking their heads and frowning at him, then moments later they'd just give up and start getting their groove on in front of everyone. It was cool and kinda carnal to watch.
The big fountain that I used to run around when I was just a babe. Except when I was young, it wasn't paved. It was all broken up rock and glass lights, and pretty dangerous for little kids. But we did it anyway.
My sis tries on some crafty specs. Below are pics of old photos I found in my dad's attic, and some antiques I found.
My sister and I at some family event. She looks to be about 3 or 4, so I must have been around 18.
My dad and I at Ross Lake. Probably 1980.
Last pic: I found a huge BAG of blades. My dad is probably going to display them or sell them, but it sucks because I don't think he knows how to care for them. They're rusting and the leather sheaths are dry and falling apart. You can't tell by the photo how intricate the leather designs are, plus a lot of the knives, especially the ones that don't look like kukras, have beatiful engravings in them. I think my grandpa got these in Burma when he worked for the army doing construction from 1943-1945.
