This blog often contains uncomfortable subject matter and occasional sexual content. If you don't want to read about it, empower yourself to close the page. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fighting BK and I have been having ridiculous arguments lately. He's on this kick about logic. I can't speak for him, but if I had to guess I'd say it's a reaction to my emotionality. Okay, I get it, I'm extremely emotional. When I am angry, scared, threatened, sad, etc. I sometimes temporarily have trouble thinking clearly. Partially due to my upbringing, I have a hard time identifying what I'm actually upset about until after I've calmed down. I grasp at straws sometimes because I feel tremendous pressure to explain why I appear increasingly upset. I understand that he gets exasperated when I'm freaking out about whatever. I'm difficult to be around sometimes, I get it. But god damn it, if I never hear the phrase "logical fallacy" again, it'll be too soon. Any unpleasant emotions I experience are immediately magnified when BK tells me that it's "counterproductive" to feel what I'm feeling, to worry about whatever I'm worried about. He just can't understand why I could possibly waste time being angry or sad or scared. When I tell him that I'm worried that he's judging me for my emotions, or that he thinks I can't grasp the concept of logic, or that he secretly thinks he's superior to me for having a better grasp of (his definition of) logic, he accuses me of being assumptive. Fine, I do get assumptive sometimes. What the fuck do you want from me? Assuming is how my mother taught me to protect myself. My family doesn't just say what's on their minds. Instead I was forced to guess. He thinks this, she thinks that. She thinks she's so smart, he thinks he's better than everyone else, etc. But when I retract one of those "You think you're better than me" statements and rephrase it as "I'm worried that you think you're better than me," nope, in BK's eyes I am still assuming, and that is, of course, a logical fallacy. When I tell him that I feel insulted when he continuously uses that phrase to describe the way I think, he smugly tells me that it's "fallacious" to interpret his wording as an insult. Then for the hundredth time, he explains the definition of the word "fallacy". I know, honey. A falsehood. I heard you the first time. Look, it's not that I don't get logic. Like I said, I know my head gets clouded when I'm upset. It takes me weeks, sometimes months, of introspection and journal entries to figure out what I was actually mad about that one time when we had that one fight. You can define the word "logic" to me until you're blue in the face. Nowhere in the definition is there any mention of the absence of emotion. I'm sick of him trying to explain away my feelings, and worse, I'm sick of feeling like I have to defend my emotions! Logic and emotions don't have to exist separately. The point of emotion is to signal when something isn't right in our lives. Anger, sadness, and resentment are supposed to be interpreted as a sign that something needs to change. The fact that I am angry is not an indication that I'm crazy, not thinking rationally, or unable to understand logic. Rather, it's an indication that I need to take a step back and try to think logically in order to better understand where my emotion stems from. Logic and emotion work best as a team. Don't try explaining that to BK, though. Based on previous observation, he'd probably just tell you it was fallacious. When he starts lecturing about logic, he uses the same tone of voice that he usually reserves for when he's talking about people he considers stupid, brainwashed, hopeless "sheeple". What am I supposed to think when he uses that tone of voice with me? I express that I'm worried he thinks I'm stupid, and he calls me assumptive. And then, not even realizing the irony of his behavior, accuses me of blaming him for my emotions and insecurities. He'll say, "This has happened all my life, I'm the bad guy because I took the time to actually read about the topic before I argue about it. I'm the bad guy for being better at arguing, so now I'm in trouble!" Or, "You know, I think what happens sometimes is you beat yourself up about something, but then I get blamed for it." Um. Now who's being assumptive? I hate fighting with him. He says he doesn't fight to win, so why does he try so hard to convince me to see things his way? If he's not fighting to win, why do I always end up feeling like I've lost? I feel helpless, like there is no possibility that I can get him to really hear what I'm saying without becoming defensive and accusing me of blaming him for my pain. It doesn't matter how many times I tell him, I don't blame him for my pain. I just have this intense need to express it. But then when I express it, he feels accused. It's an endless cycle and it's wearing me down, but I don't know how to change it. The other night, I finally told him that I've been unhappy with this relationship for a very long time. He seemed surprised, even though I'm pretty sure he could sense my dissatisfaction, deep down. He said something that irked me: "Promise me that if you break up with me, it'll be over something stupid? So that I can get over it easier?" Seriously? You want me to promise to be an irrational bitch so it's easy to hate me later on? You want me to promise that I won't speak up about what's really bothering me, so that you'll be spared the guilt of knowing the part you played in the dissolution of the relationship? So that you can place one hundred percent of the blame on me? No, I'm not promising that. He goes on and on about how insecure everyone else is, and he rarely admits his own insecurity. I wanted to be mad when he asked me for that promise, but instead all I could feel was pity. 10:40 p.m. - 2010-06-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Math problems There are 24 hours in a day. This adds up to 50 hours out of 112 waking hours each week devoted to my workday. If I want to cook dinner, that's another 1 or 2 hours taken out of my free time in the evening. On Sundays I usually spend around 4 or 5 hours visiting my family. Let's say I only cook dinner twice a week and eat the leftovers the rest of the week. If I've done my math right (keep in mind it never was my strongest subject), that still adds up to 57 waking hours of my week that are spent doing things I'd rather not be doing. That's more than half, and I haven't even factored in errands, household chores, and showering. I don't know how anyone functions this way. 11:12 p.m. - 2010-05-25 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh my god. So a couple of weeks ago, I got an Amazon.com account so I could get ahold of the new Daria complete series box set. I intended to just use the account to buy the boxed set, but... Oh my god. Think of the music I have access to now! They have Lush and My Bloody Valentine imports! Swervedriver, Ride, Chapterhouse! There are Starflyer 59 and Pale Saints albums I'd never even heard of. And that's just the shoegaze. I haven't even searched for any doom metal yet. I am going to be so freaking broke if I'm not careful. I am forcing myself to practice restraint for the time being. I had to clean out my savings account just so I could pay the deposit on my new apartment and still be able to afford the rent for June. Everything should be back on track within the next few months. Oh yeah, regarding my last entry, I was right. BK was passed out drunk at his friend's place (just not the friend I was thinking of). He said he woke up at 2:00 in the afternoon, but he didn't manage to make it home until past 4:00 somehow. I told him I was mad at him for not calling, and I told him how anxious I get when I can't verify that he's safe. He got the message, but that doesn't mean he's not going to pull this crap again. God damn, I feel so sick for ending up with a man so similar to my dad. Guess I really did turn into my mother, didn't I? Anyway I am still sick, but getting better, I think. I napped off and on throughout Friday, and only needed one nap yesterday. Managed to get away with no naps today, though I probably should have taken one. Instead, after visiting my family I went to the nature park and took a long walk. I got some neat pictures of the trees and flowers, and I found a new trail! I don't think it's supposed to be open to the public. The rest of that area is enclosed in barbed wire, but I think they forgot to fence off this part of the trail. It leads down to a shallow creek with a waterfall. It was a good walk, even though it was humid. I went home drenched in sweat with my hair all curled and frizzy, and I felt beautiful and alive. And then I freaked out for about half an hour because I found a tick on my ankle, so then I had to check every inch of my body for parasites. Still though. Good walk. 10:40 p.m. - 2010-05-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- BK is AWOL BK had a show last night, and he never came home afterward. I woke up at 5:15 and tried to call, but it went straight to voicemail, leading me to believe that his phone died yet again. Never mind the fact that I wrote my number down so that he could keep it in his wallet, and use a friend's phone to call in situations like this. I'm pretty sure he resents me for needing to know where he is (for needing to know that he's safe) so he just doesn't bother calling. I stayed home sick today, because I feel like shit, and also because I didn't think I could concentrate at work while I'm so worried about BK. It is 1:17 and I haven't heard from him. He's probably just hungover and not willing to wake up yet. But when I can't get in touch with him, my mind jumps to terrible conclusions. What if the band van got into an accident after the show? What if he was walking home and got hit by a car? What if he drank too much and got alcohol poisoning, and now he's at the guitarist's place, dead, and everyone else just thinks he's passed out? Or, what if he's out cheating on me, and he thinks I'll be none the wiser since I'm supposed to be at work? I hate that he doesn't try to get in touch. He knows how anxious I get, and when he doesn't call, I view his behavior as a blatant disregard for my emotions. Just because he thinks I shouldn't get so worried about him, that I shouldn't need to know his whereabouts, doesn't mean I don't still feel terrified. I feel abandoned when he doesn't call. 1:10 p.m. - 2010-05-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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