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Coldplay - Clocks |
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I just had an emotionally exhausting meeting with Dr. Kass. Afterward, I felt the need to read webcomics and random journals, and now I feel better.
There is something refreshing about crying and then being alone for awhile to get over it.
Anyways, so I think I'll back up and discuss the weekend first. Friday was okay, if a bit lonely and boring. I did get to see Erin, which was nice.
Tommy had promised me Saturday. I didn't initally believe him, and even said as much just afterschool on Friday, and while it turns out that I was right to be skeptical, I wish I'd been wrong.
I woke up Saturday morning and mother dearest was telling me how she and Julia were going to a play the Harvard Classical Club were putting on after Julia's dulcimer lesson. I wanted badly to go, but Thomas had left me a message saying he'd be working on his car in the morning (which was fine, of course). I called his house and spoke to his mother, who said he might be done in time for the 2:30 PM show. Then there was much much confusion about whether there was a 7:30 show or not, and whether mom could drive back to take me to the 2:30 if Thomas was unavailable.
He eventually called, and it was settled that we would go to the 2:30. I was all anxious and irritated by this point, which did not bode well for the next topic of discussion. It turns out he couldn't go to the 7:30 show with me because he had a concert. A concert. I found out relatively quickly that he hadn't known about it prior to Friday night, but that information came too late to be much consolence.
Now, my crushing disappointment and resultant anger at this situation were much discussed by the esteemed Dr. Kass with me. I discovered three main components to my unfortunate reaction:
1. I just really really really wanted a purely fun, free day with Thomas. I think we need it. It isn't exactly that I don't love him anymore or think our relationship is in trouble or anything, but we haven't had time away from his house and Lexington and all the shit contained therein in literally months (since Verve in Greece, I think, and the last one before that was the Nutcracker, and the last one before that was absolutely ages - Six Flags), and I just want it. I want to fall back in love with him. I always realize just how wonderful he is, just how much I appreciate and adore him when we're out together, and I enjoy it so so much. And the more I try to plan such things and get my plans defeated, the more I want it.
2. When I look forward to things, I really look forward to them. I construct a little fantasy in my head, a beautifully perfect day that I want. (First we'll go to the MFA and wander around like we did that one time, and kiss in corners, and feel pretty and cultured, and then we'll go get dinner, and maybe a movie, and ooh, we could maybe stop by Finale for the long belated Valentine's Day dessert, and then home, exhilarated and in love and content...) I then usually enjoy the actual experience even more than it really merits, simply because it is the actualization of that dream. The destruction of the dream, the loss of that experience, is therefore even more upsetting than it really deserves.
3. I know perfectly well that Thomas did not know about the concert in advance (although he could have told me about it on Friday night, but I understand why he simply forgot to do so. He didn't see me or talk to me, after all), and that he didn't mean to plan over the time he'd promised me. It was just in the way it was delivered, the way in which all such pieces of news are delivered. As facts. "I have a concert tonight at 6:15 PM." And no, Emmy, your wishes and hopes and such aren't relevant. I have an obligation, and I must fulfill it. This I completely understand. It's just the crushing irreversability of the decision, the complete disregard of Emmy. Had he presented me with the choice, with the dilemmna... "I don't know what to do Emmy, I know I promised to be with you tonight and I really do want to, but I've just been told I have this concert I didn't know about and they need me to sing, what should I do?" Then I would feel remembered, included. Hell, I would probably even feel good about myself for telling him to cancel our plans and go sing. All that noble self-sacrifice bullshit. I just... I just don't want to be considered somehow less important. I know his obligation to the group for a concert is greater than his obligation to fulfill the vague plans of his girlfriend, who will certainly be able to manage without him in a way in which OOTO cannot, but... It's just the sense in which I want to be involved in that decision. As Dr. Kass said, it's the desire to have a choice. What if I had really needed him? The option wouldn't be there. I didn't really need him, of course, but the lack of choice still stings.
We also talked deeply about my perception of inferiority. As we all know, just about everything centers on intelligence. And not just intelligence, it's cognitive intelligence alone that matters. Why? Oh, it's this little thing called my childhood. It is what my father, and to some lesser degree, my mother, valued above all else, what brought them together. I have to have this, have to feel intelligent and articulate, or I am worthless. Utterly completely absolutely without value. Undeserving of love, education, life. Emotional intelligence doesn't matter, kindness, honesty, trustworthiness - all are worth almost nothing in this strange system of mine.
Now, of course I don't hold others to this same standard. The system is entirely unethical, disregards those traits that I consciously believe to be most important, and applies only to myself.
And it all leads back to -
You guessed it -
Lyle M. Spencer.
I was told as a child that I was brilliant, a genius, capable of great things, going to succeed. I was genetically designed to succeed. And I will never ever be good enough.
While all of the matters we discussed were painful in some way or another, it was good to talk about, good to realize, good to understand.
Ultimately, I hope, this pain now will make it better later.
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