Winds of Change

It's been a pretty good couple of weeks. I have implemented many planned changes, and I think they are turning out quite well. I began my new position at the high school, which is working out MUCH better than my last foray into high school, and I'm juggling two teams with (so far) little drama. This achievement is an enormous shot for my confidence, and other than sleeping with dubious effectiveness, I'm handling all the changes with aplomb that makes me marvel. I am losing Scrabble game after Scrabble game online, though, and my rank's in the toilet. This losing streak bothers me more than I care to admit -- but it's quite possibly a good thing that the streak's worst thing going for me right now. How bad can life be? But it does indeed bother me.

On the personal life front, I don't think I've gone any farther in resolving what I'm beginning to see is a whole lot of anger about my divorce, relationships in general, and expectations for my future. I realized the anger as such about a week ago, when I was hanging out at my friend's pool with a third friend who was asking me about my counselor and possible available men at my school. My friend's friend is a social worker and adult-education advocate, and she somehow tapped the magma chamber of unresolved feelings inside of me so that they erupted. Anger bubbled to the surface, and I was shocked to find myself raising my voice to express my perspective and make myself understood. Vehemently. Rather than becoming offended at my reaction, this woman further surprised me by praising me, and she reminded me that there is no set schedule for how long these feelings take to achieve resolution. Maybe the full-blown anger stage of grief has ripened... now, three and a half years later.

The gist of my attitude problem was that love relationships are the stupidest thing on which to hinge any part of my future, as those are the one kind of relationships without any settled guarantees. Parents are always parents, even if relationships with their children become strained or estranged. Brothers and sisters are bonded forever, as even if they never see each other, they are always a part of each other, bonded by sharing the same parents. Friends can come and go, because the whole point of friends is having a collection of them, a feathered nest, and when one's time wanes, it's all right, as the ones who mean to last do last. But to find a man, to feel infatuated and excited, and to develop feelings -- feelings! -- for him and then make decisions and investments which affect my entire life, and which are suppose to sustain and maintain for the rest of my life... when I know how people change, how feelings -- feelings! -- are fleeting and change, when I know how people think they know themselves and their needs when they don't, when they mean well and don't have the character or integrity to back up their promises... no way. No freaking way.

My friend's friend accepted this. She just did. And somehow, the accepting of it made me angry. But I think the entire situation made me angry. I wanted her to argue with me, to fuss that I'm wrong, because I was prepared to fight with her that I'm not wrong, no matter what else everybody says. I make a hell of a lot more sense to myself than these starry eyed women who hinge their future happiness to the star of some man who, we all hope, is worthy of the faith she places on him. Double for her if she has children with him. And what if he is miserable, but his code of silence makes him stay?

The chances for finding a real relationship that provides joy and comfort, that fits my kinks as I fit his, where I want to be close and can trust that the person has my best interests at heart... that he knows my best interests and himself well enough for authenticity and honesty to prevail over the mercurial nature of feelings, the bad moods and attitude problems, the ways life can smack people down without warning... I just can't believe they exist. The chances. As such, no guy will prevail against my perspective right now. Chances are so extraordinarily higher that any relationship I attempt will fail to sustain itself, there is no real reason to search for a "right" one. And what the wrong choices I make in relationships will take away from me is considerable enough to entirely nullify the worthiness of even speculating on ever finding a right one.

So I see the anger, and through the red haze of my perspective, I see why my friends who do argue with me choose to argue. I myself would probably tell someone else who said these things, in my position, that she is ridiculous. That great guys would love to get to know her. That great guys have a lot to offer. That great guys could make it all better than it already is.

To myself, I say, "Whatever!"

I don't trust great guys. I don't trust, fundamentally, myself. I don't trust myself to choose better. I don't trust what I've learned since the divorce. I am just not ready.