[1109] I've Got A Secret

I think I cleared some of the cobwebs in my earlier attempt to write. We might drill down on a few more specifics here.

Trust feels like a word to land on. My anxiety gets aggravated when I feel as though I can't trust "anything." I know this traces back to childhood under my mom's reign. The floor could never be trusted not to turn into lava in an instant. I compare how I feel, to this day, when I go to my dad's house versus how I feel dealing with people at large. I can just eat. I can simply sleep. I can talk or ask questions and not have to anticipate the backlash of doing so "wrong." I think there's so little we can actually trust, and the taken-for-granted aspects of our environment proved wholly untrustworthy in increasing ways over time.

I could count on one hand the amount of people I've tried to be friends with or would claim to be my family that haven't betrayed my trust. I genuinely wouldn't believe it was a thing to have were it not for my dad and grandma. There's a character from Blue Exorcist that comes to mind who is viciously self-reliant after being left helpless when her family abandoned her. For me, trust implies you have my best interests at heart in the same way I have yours. We're gonna buy each other drinks and meals and bowling games. In a car breakdown scenario, I'll brave the drive, the night, and weather to get you back home.

That feels like a level that should be almost throwaway obvious. What about deeper things? What about long-term commitments and investments? What about emotional well-being? What about when called to sacrifice or choose, they pick you? This is where I feel my longing to "really connect" with people has served to get me betrayed over and over. If I pull you into my camp, I'm spending money on you, I'm giving you all of my time, I'm using my tools, my energy, and my ideas to see what I can do for you. You have a particular priority? Let's put it first. It's not "you pick where to eat" or "whatever movie you like." It's, "Shit is as real as it gets and long-term stability is on the line."

I've wanted to feel "safe" my entire life. I'm always chasing or running no matter how much time I take between accomplishments to see a performance or marathon TV. I want to feel like my friends aren't going to ignore me when I'm afraid of dying via negligence. I want to know the bills can get paid with a fair amount of time and effort and I won't have to degrade or hollow out myself in service to "practicality." I want to know that when I defend going about the work I do in the way I do, I'm not going to have to look like a desperate hypocrite because something foundational has to be sacrificed in order to merely survive.

A couple months ago I wrote a little thing to an ex telling her I appreciated the work she had done and that I didn't want to haplessly fall into a pattern where everyone I'm close to becomes someone who never wants to talk to me again. She never responded to it. I asked her today whether she received it at all. She said, "I got it. What's the question?" All I wanted to know was whether or not she had gotten it, so it got left there. Immediately though, I feel the same pattern and same lesson is beating me over the head. An effort to contextualize or offer friendship is met with silence. I'm likely a thing she'll spend a considerable amount of her time trying not to think about, like most people I know.

Brandy follows through. My dad follows through. Hussain, when he isn't a ball of stress, follows through. When I say "follows through," I mean does the work of being accountable to our shared dynamic. It's not just that we're incidentally familiar or "friendly" with each other. It's that we exchange real shit that we mean and can trust and rely upon. For a time I would have said the same things about Byron and Allie, hence my larger time and financial investments. Most of my connections can't be bothered to answer a text within a week, let alone plan a trip or entertain the practical work of overhauling a living or work situation.

I'm not looking for anyone to blame. I'm just struck. I'm flabbergasted. I get exhausted thinking about it. I don't know if I'm missing some more insightful conclusion to draw. My friend recently told me she's trying to let go of the worry around making a mistake or the "wrong" decision. I can't tell you how long I've made seeking the next mistake and learning the wrong shit to do my mission. Nearly everything I pursue most earnestly or with the most history to back up what it's worth, the overwhelming feedback is that it's still wrong. From strangers, from "experts," from frequently opinionated onlookers. Fuck, from people I pay to do the wrong parts right. I'm just fucking up one thing after another until I get a 10 minute reprieve every few months.

I got home not too long ago from a…it was certainly a rendition…of Jesus Christ Superstar. Jesus predicts his betrayal. The people killing him aren't even sure why he must die, but figure out how to get there, washing their hands of any responsibility. I wonder how many people see themselves in Judas or the Pharisees. I wonder how many consider themselves background dancers and vocals, not stirring the pot, but not willing or able to step into their own spotlight. Does Jesus trust his apostles to do anything beyond betray him and prove him obviously correct? My phrasing for years has been that I "trust" people to do exactly as they show themselves to be. That's held true for everyone that's fucked me the hardest.

I trust your insecurity to win. I trust you'll get defensive. I trust you'll rely on cliches and extremely vague ironically-named pleasantries when you're unable to explain your behavior, decision making, or provide a personally responsible answer to a question. I trust your resentment and ambivalence. I trust you'll stay quiet more than anything. I trust you'll gossip. I trust you'll find ways to undermine things I'm trying to do, and you won't even be consciously aware of why, but you'll pick a turn of phrase or let some derogatory detail or comment inform the next person's view of what I'm doing. If you're the DCS regional management cunts you'll literally prevent us from getting paid at all to meet a gaping hole in service provision.

I can't stress how much I do not believe in our "better natures." I do not think we are fundamentally good. I'm certainly not. It takes me an incredible amount of effort not to act like what is offered to me. Do you think for a second I couldn't be rich preying on people? Do you think my concept of "fuck it" isn't capable of the kind of destruction you read about? I work to behave otherwise. I talk to myself. I share the struggle. I ground who I wish to be in examples, like this, because I only get to brush against them occasionally when I'm spending time with the small handful of people who remind me I'm not actually alone.

In a world that is fundamentally untrustworthy, how could I even believe, "The work will speak for itself?" That's been a consistent line I try to fall back on when I'm floundering. I certainly get the "You're so amazing!" feedback often enough, but I've said plenty on why you can't trust that. I'm thinking about the people with the money, or how the people who receive the work interpret what's happened. If all you practically are is worth the amount you can market yourself or convince and lie that your "mission" is the same, what then? I don't think our mission is the same. I think mine is to work. I think yours is to tell people you support those who "help."

The work certainly feels a different way. I don't care how poor I get, when I'm actually doing the right things, I feel better. I can allude to all of the terrible horrible places I can entertain as thought experiments, but not feel like I'm taking some chance that I'll make them come true. I know how crazy-making and rage-inducing it is to sit and seethe over greed, lies, and injustice. If there's 5 people left on the planet who see and feel the same shit I do, I want to find and work with them or die trying. I absolutely refuse to play along and let you win.