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July 16, 2009One woman’s story(it’s a happy ending)NO ONE GETS IT RIGHT THE FIRST TIME EVERY TIME.(I love to quote myself.) That’s why I proposed Errors and Omissions insurance for writers. Because the problem with publishing online regularly is, your mind is always on display. And sometimes you change your mind. But not so easy to change the past, and what was posted in it. YOU SEE,I had this problem, a surreal attachment to a guy who’s not in my life. For the purposes of this column let’s just call him Adam Lambert. I was in la-la (fantasy) land, obsessing about him, ignoring other things in my life, feeling hopeless, seeing no way out—and I was about to see him in the flesh for the first time. “I’m going to have a heart attack,” I told friend Adrianne, as he walked out on stage in Portland. But I had already OD’ed on him and another dose would kill me—I had to quit cold turkey. And there he was, a three-dimensional angel in metallic blue. I’m surprised he wasn’t wearing spiked wings. Operating subconsciously, I had to sabotage myself from connecting with him. It was a self-protective device, a self-generating exaggerated defense mechanism. I had to invent something I didn’t like about him to turn myself off to him. AND IT WORKED!I projected my own need to distance myself onto him and left there convinced he was smug and conceited, and just like that, I didn’t have to love him anymore. I said mean-spirited things about him that he didn’t deserve, things I genuinely believed at the time, but that didn’t stand up to my own scrutiny, when I examined my motive, which was to stop being in love with him in its tracks. It was too vulnerable a situation to me, to be faced with his actuality, and be at his mercy. The man is potent. I felt like a fly getting too close to the spider. I couldn’t let myself get caught in that web. Anyway I revised my ”I’m sorry, ladies,“ review of the show, because I didn’t really see it. I was too busy conducting my own mind-fuck. I’VE LIVED IN LA-LA LAND BEFORE.I’ve been subject before to unrequited love, love for men who would not respond to me, and it was torture to futilely long to be close to them. Over a lifetime I’ve wasted tons of raw emotions on lost causes. Maybe that’s why “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” is my favorite video. I live alone, I have bipolar disorder, I get into patterns of involvement (this one was made to order), and I have to be vigilant about what’s going on with myself. The deep end is a dead end. I did the right thing. I have my life back. Thanks, myself, for watching out for me. ADAMmeans so many things to so many people, it can’t be easy to carry such a load on his young shoulders, but I don’t know who has brought more joy to more people in so short a time. Bliss out, all you Adamaniacs out there! IT WAS ONLYwhen I stopped loving Adam that I began loving Adam. I went around to the buses in Oakland, not expecting anything particular, and as he passed by me I thought to ask him if he recognized my name (from my column someone gave him), hoping to hell he’d say no, which would reinforce my wake-up call that our lives have nothing to do with each other; he was too distracted to pay any attention, and I dismissed it from my mind, finally. But I’ll never forget my few moments of privilege, resting my eyes on his beautiful countenance as he concentrated on signing pictures, his eyes shiny with glitter, and that was when I began to love the man he is, not to regard him as someone, something being painfully withheld from me. I feel blessed. It’s reality that’s bringing me joy. But I’m glad I didn’t get to look into his eyes. That might have struck me dead. |
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