Day 11. Freewriting. Dream interpretation and peeling back a layer. I keep people around to help me or protect me. I’m a pro at certain aspects of my life and then there are others where I’m still a rookie…
Dream: Walking down the main road in my childhood neighborhood. I”m about a block from my house. I was in the car with my mom and brother but they needed a push or something so I was outside the car and then once the car started, they took off. Did they leave me? Did I refuse to get back into the car? The sidewalk is covered with ice. I cannot run. We are meant to be at NUS for a 4pm movie. NUS is in Singapore. I’m meeting a new friend. I invited a neighbor, Danny. He’s a few years older. He’s been like a brother. He’s safe. Wouldn’t harm a fly. I get to the movie. I’m late. The new friend yells at me for being disrespectful. I fell on the ice and Danny notices I’m hurt. Danny asks, “Are you OK? How can I help?” Days pass. I’m at Danny’s house for dinner. The house is filled with balloons and smells of meatloaf. It’s springtime. Flowers are so beautiful in his yard. “Thank you for being such a good friend. I need to confess something to you.” “Tell me, Jess. What’s on your mind?” “All these years, I thought I was avoiding catching feelings. You were my go-to. You were my buffer.” “That’s great Jess. You know I love you. We will always be friends. I love you. I’m gay.”
***
Dreams happen all the time. The last few weeks, I haven’t been able to keep my dream journal. I’ve been writing the first feelings/thoughts instead. Today I feel blessed because I was able to remember and write down my dream (above). Journaling my dreams allows me to go deeper into myself.
I realised my motive for bringing friends on dates. It’s not to avoid catching feelings. It’s to feel safe.
My father has a terrible temper. He refuses to control his anger and I have my strong opinions on things but one thing I’m willing to share is that I had a habit of keeping buffers around. Anthony helped paint some walls. Eddie helped fill a hole. Bret joined for Christmas dinner. Nick and Bobby helped move furniture. Jeff was at the big race, the healing race, the bonding race. My life was or perhaps still is filled with buffers. Everything is documented with pictures but now I have a better understanding of WHY. Is my life filled with guys because I felt safer? What is the main difference between my friends in the USA vs my friends in Asia. I love them all dearly, not all have broken down my walls. Not all understand the tremendous love in my heart. Not just my heart, me. I am love.
I subconsciously applied the same coping mechanism to my social circles. Any guy trying to date me would probably share a story how it’s difficult to get one on one time with me. It’s true. I don’t date. Not in the conventional sense at least. Everything is a group setting. Groups are safe.
“You are responsible for 90% of my anger. your mother is responsible for the other 10%”
I cannot remember the order of emails, was this barked to me after I hit my threshold of patience? when I listed out the unprocessed hurts that I needed validation? Just admit it and I can move on. I need to know that I’m not crazy. These events happened. You did it. I didn’t deserve it. I did nothing to deserve to be on the receiving end. Maybe I did something, I breathe. I exist. I was brought into this world with the sole responsibility to torment you. Obviously. That’s how it works, right? You brought me into this world and you can take me out of it? It’s your right.
***
Buffers are an interesting concept. The shift in reasoning is what consumes me. Maybe buffers are a coping mechanism… but a coping mechanism for what? catching feelings? being hurt? is this a physical hurt? emotional hurt? mental hurt? It’s phenomenal to observe my being IN autopilot. Deconstructing my behaviors is fascinating… Almost artistic.
The light-bulb moment is that I can safely say that I’d happily marry any of the guys that I kept as buffers. I revise that statement. The guys that I labeled as buffers that knew the importance of showing up. These guys were my list of 2.5 and happily ever after.
***
B was one of the first buffers. He was a trusted friend. I leaned on him after a break up in high school. He treated me to Blue Man Group in the city. Huge deal for high schoolers. His parting comment “I spent so much money and that’s all I get” (referencing my goodbye hug). I didn’t understand. I had so many talks with my mom trying to understand that he’s my friend. Friends don’t say stuff like that? Does that mean that his ‘kind gesture’ was with motive? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose? Over the years, I’ve tried healing that hurt. Sometimes we are OK and I let him in. Other times, my walls come up and I simply shut down. My mom thinks he’s hopelessly in love with me. He’d say that I torment him and am colder than a Chicago night during the 1983 blizzard. I’d just confess that he broke my heart along with my trust that night… and I’ve been lying to myself that I’m OK with it. We remained friends up until earlier this year. He still hasn’t returned my birthday phone call. I called early (3 weeks early). I had just come out of a meditation retreat and he was my first phone call.
***
J was one of the original buffers too. He was always more than a friend. He was in a bucket of his own. He was family. He was a lover. He was an escape. He was love. Just pure love. He showed up, not because I asked, but because he was needed. He knew that and words cannot express how much that means to me. We lost touch for a few years but like all souls are meant, we found one another once again. This time has a different depth. He’s a lifetime. No doubt.
***
D was my day-to-day buffer. Despite 3 letters of gratitude. I still cannot articulate the words for this one. I love him, I LOATHE his twin. There is no middle ground with this one. His duality is heartbreaking and soul-crushing.
***
Puppydogs. Lovers. Chaperones. Buffers. Labels have changed over the years but the need has always been the same.
I have been subconsciously attracting the same person. I haven’t learned my lesson. Awareness Before Change. The guys I dated all fit the same mould. Is this why I keep the buffers? They slow the process of me throwing myself into the emotional deep end of unchartered waters?
Buffers are to protect me. I never thought of myself as needing protection…
Perhaps marriage isn’t for me. If you look at the great women of history, they didn’t have conventional love stories. They lived incredible love stories but there was nothing conventional about the way they lived. Magic doesn’t fit into a box. The beauty is in the chaos.
One more layer removed.
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