Where his story first intersected with mine was, once upon a time, Naomi had just got out of a three "bad" relationships in a row (later learning that they were "bad" at the time because she was blind in ways she wouldn't have been able to see, due to her damage, to her dismay). I got with this Jesse person who was super logical in a super safe way because he had so much room for exactly whoever I needed to be. He still had standards of how he would like to be treated, but he enacted them toward me first, so much so that I don't think we ever "fought", not even once. Not really. Not like I know how to fight now.
We were both emotional people, in our own way. But we cared. Through this ability of his to reach me on literally any topic, no matter how explosively sensitive it was for me, I learned that in theory, there is a right way to say anything to anyone and still be heard.
Here, in the end of it all, I know that it enabled me to reconnect with my wish to better the world; hearing it from a point of logic and not from a bleeding heart anymore, cause musicians and poets say so many nice words but no one else lives by them, so lets live by science and do it logically, right? Art is nice and all, but at that point, I needed the solidity of, no it IS possible, we CAN sit down and think this out. Together. Because we loved each other enough (too much?). And it was good.
We never really got anywhere with the world at large as we had hoped. Our judgement matrices were still very much tied up in the Facebook explosivity and general bullying method of disagreeing with others who obviously have no room for your truth for, well, sport I guess. We didn't feel like trolls until a couple of people we really cared about shared their feelings with us. The trolls we were, we judged their honesty together, in private, as always, and came to the conclusion that maybe we needed to at least start abstaining from this behavior.
But we really got places with ourselves internally, and maybe not me so much, but Jesse really did. When approached with new data, new knowledge that didn't necessarily agree with the considerable amount of "useless facts" he absorbs everyday for fun, he would sit down with his thoughts, picking each of them up like they were simultaneously a precious jewel, and possible poison. As though one would with the items in around the house, when we spring clean, we decide whether or not each of these brings joy. And he puts the joy with the joy and the trash with the trash. And then he takes out the trash, and he’s done, and on to the next challenge.
Jesse had a simultaneously traumatizing and extremely privileged childhood. As such, he was left with the kind of damage that most traumatized privileged white kids experience, and sadly just cuz their white and male doesn't make their story any less sad. The problem with choosing to hate those who have yet to understand their privilege, is that their personal blindness often comes at the cost of inner blindness, as we are all aware. And just like our damage, our blindnesses are taught to us.
So how do we start figuring out how to convince people they even HAVE a blind spot in the first place? Continue exploding? Minimizing? Saying they've said enough words already? Talk over them with our pain? Well... if you're the kind of person who doesn't explode until pushed, then chances are you probably talk about it on other people first. That's why the path almost always starts with judgement. And judgement is only different from discernment in that it necessarily implies the evidence supports a very binary-esque, guilty or not guilty, black and white existence. And we all know, that only really works for computers and math.
Our only real point of friction would be when I would ask for his help to change my habits, and then I would break the rules I set out, and he'd react emotionally because I wasn't just breaking it for myself, I was breaking it for both of us. By constantly asking for help and then deciding to not listen to that, I added unnecessary friction that ended up not mattering too much in the end, but it matters for the fact that I kinda used to be a bit of a drama queen, and when there wasn't any drama going on I would create it because at least then someone would be paying attention to me, right? As long as I failed, at least I was getting some attention outside of our day to day comfortable norm.
I had never been so heard and yet, the hearing didn't always translate into doing. He had a great talk on the things he knew how to talk correctly about, but the walk he was willing to do didn't match up for the kid in my brain saying "do as I say, not as I do, huh, DAAAAD!" Although the first 4 or so years of our relationship were a beautiful perfect healing space, I was itching to start restarting my cycle. I felt like I had helped him level up as much as I could with the person he had encouraged me to be. But I was terrified of being the one to leave, and so I started looking for and eventually manufacturing reasons to be done.
The only way I could have gotten better with him, as the people we were, would have been to work thru my previous damage as much as he had, and I had helped him to. Just like his reflective version of that would have been to come out and get some damage like I had, and he had helped me to. When we began to end, it was the most difficult thing to finally let out of my mouth. But I couldn't keep sharing the same space with us both deciding to keep being exactly who we were. So we went to go grow.
Jesse was the only one that tried to pretend to grow up, because he had to. I left him, alone. Neither of us had been that great at making and keeping friends before we met each other, and we were so amicable it didn't make it hard for the friends he had made in the music scene to keep recognizing him for the cool human he was. Jesse has always had a fixation on the lack of room for the plight of the average white male, and will be working with me in the future to continue the great work of feminism and diversity activists who have said all along how much every INDIVIDUAL STORY MATTERS. If a few of us can start really embodying this with all individuals, regardless of psychological condition/privilege/addiction/unfortunate choices, then we can really start changing the world for the better, dontcha think?
Anyway. Back to the individual story. He pushed himself to go through a lot of stuff that some people would call traumatizing. He went on a long and rewarding spiritual journey that ended up involving a lot of rites of passage he had missed out on in his socialization. Almost always, these were focused on creating new ways of translating the data we call "suffering". Sadly, he missed out early in life on some of the challenges that could have built his character and self-parenting database, but he made it happen. He manufactured the situations in which a person is capable of growing by reaching out to humans who had had the same problems. He asked the universe to give him the lessons required to level up. And it answered in kind.
I like to think that even though I left him the way I did, that maybe the love I gave him for the time I could was enough to teach him how to make his own boots so his feet didn't get as badly cut as they otherwise would have on the rocky road that lay ahead of him. But that's really just the facilitation ho in me trying to take ownership of someone else's success. That's silly self. Let's work on it. *wags parental finger, other hand grabs it out of nowhere, smiles apologetically*
Because I was a person who chose vice on a physical level, with imbibables and sex, I attracted my equal opposite, people who choose vice on a mental/spiritual level.
Now I’m not sure why but it happened specifically with suicidally manipulatives in particular. Yet. But it did. Over and over again, as I made the same choices romantically, addictionally, mentally, professionally.
Eventually, it became clear that I had no option but to figure out ways to not live my life constantly in fear that my boyfriends were going to end their lives (because I had done psycho vampiring of sorts that I can’t even see enough to admit to yet, so bear with me). As broken empaths do, i learned to build a wall to the boys that kept screaming wolf at their very real wolf that embodied all of the things they would have been dealing with if they hadn’t been using my existence as a bandaid and pacifier, hiding the fact that that wolf of which i speak is both always of our own making (thru bottling/ignoring/not processing events as they happen) and in our control to retrain over time with love.
I RESEMBLE EVERY REMARK I JUST MADE. I am also the villainness in the story I describe, I just don't have a 100% clear picture of exactly how much yet, because I'm looking at a lot of new painfully honest realities about myself already.
Like, I get that that sounds like a terrible way to describe all of this. But I have equal honesty on both sides of the equation. Can we handle this level? Is this even allowed? Can I care when this is the only way I'm apparently going to fix my shit, for the actual entire whole world to see?
I found myself in the years later, in the depths of my various depressions, turning to motivational speeches and books, self help, zen stuff, always ingesting material and never doing anything that made it look like I was doing anything impressive. Although at the time, consuming all of the information and not doing anything with it made all of the words that sounded like they could have meaning if meaning were something we were ever allowed in this life, but that meaning soon turned sour when I realized that hearing all of the wisdom in the world wasn’t going to make me do any of the things I knew I had to to better my mental/emotional situation.
I used made up magic of mine occasionally with inconclusive results, and while I had no belief to power any real forward motion, it gave me the clarity to at least modify what my goals could be, while basically standing still, about standing still, just better and actively. I continued failing to follow the list of things I’d decided I needed to do every day, using LifeRPG apps and trying to make up ways to incentivize taking care of myself while my sister continued to take care of all of the daily life things that just didn’t matter to me.
Like many people who experience depression/disease/addiction, I am still very blind to the blind spot I created out of guilt for not being able to will myself out of the many ruts I fell in while I was learning, that just like anything that grew in an out of alignment way, I needed to break myself a little more before I could settle back into place correctly and truly heal.
The universe cannot present us with the reflections of ourselves we are required to get through in order to heal, if we hole ourselves away, trying to reduce any hurt at all. The fact is, you’re going to hurt. I know it’s scary. And we can help each other come to those realizations together.