Airing Out The Closet, and Laying That Skeleton To Rest

So, it's been about nine months since my last post, and i've been encouraged by a very close friend of mine to take up blogging again. What better way to return than by opening up heart in a very uncomfortable way and letting the internet in on one of my most tightly held secrets?

i am a survivor of sexual abuse.

It's amazing that such a small statement can hold so much chaos and pain wrapped up in it. It's amazing that such a small act has had such a deep and detrimental effect on me for the majority of my life. For about 17 years i kept that to myself. For that amount of time i unwittingly let that event define so much of my identity.

My insecurity and tendency towards self-disdain/loathing, my horrible body image, my fear of betrayel/rejection, my difficulty allowing people to get to know me or get close to me, a vague and general sense of shame...

The list goes on.

It happened when i was pretty young, but my childhood memories are pretty jumbled, so the chronology has been lost, i would have been no older than 7 or as young as 4 years old. Like i said above, i've had a long time to hold on to that hurt.

Living through your schooling years with an inability to trust people doesn't make it very easy to develop deep, and lasting relationships. That's something i'm still trying to figure out.

So, i don't really know what else to write about this, so i think i'll end here for today.

O Death, where is thy sting?

i have experienced two significant deaths this year, both of which were sudden and tragic. The first was the wonderful Ruth Oomen. Ruth was one of the organizers of Eastman Youth Choir, a regional choir i was in during my high school years. She was taken in a car accident last winter, and though i hadn't really been in touch with her anymore, it still hit me pretty hard. She was one of the main reasons i took part in most of the choir stuff i did back then. Then in May, Andrew Spoljar took his own life in the midst of a psychological break. Andrew was the brother of my good friend Amy Komus, and he had recently "joined" our little house church. i wasn't as close to Andrew as i wish i could have been, but his passing also shook me.

What hit me harder than both of those tragedies, was when my mother was diagnosed with cancer in August. While it seems that there's nothing to worry about, they're confident that the hysterectomy got all the cancer out of her, i'm still all emotional about it. The thought of my mom having to receive radiation treatment can get me crying no matter how great my mood is at the time. Why is this?

The loss of an illusion can be more painful than we often think. i haven't lost my mother. i have, however, lost the unconscious notion that my mother is immortal. That scares me, i don't ever want to have to face that loss, but it is inevitable. OK, you must now be thinking "Goodness' sake, this guy is morbid!" Well, that is true, but that's not the point here.

Now that i have come to terms with this loss of illusion, what do i do about it? Or, rather, what should i do about it? There's that bit of pop-wisdom "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone." While entirely cliché, it's also entirely true at times. The typical response to a near-loss of a loved one is to suddenly have this renewed value and appreciation for them. At least that's the Hollywood response, and really, should be the typical response for anyone who has an actual soul.

i, however, have just continued on, in my callous way, to take my mother for granted most of the time. "Brenden! Where is your heart and soul?" you ask, incredulously, "you're normally such a sensitive and caring person!" (now that bit i'm really not sure about, it could be sarcastic or not...) i honestly have no easy answer to that question. There is no one that i love as much as my mother, and i have doubts that anyone will usurp that spot in my heart that she holds, but at the same time she is the person i take for granted the most. Where does this painful dichotomy come from? Why is it that we as a species have a tendency to hurt those who we love the most?

i probably just need to grow up a bit, i know my idealism tends to colour everything i see. Perhaps, it's not as bad as i'm making it out to be, since i do have a slight tendency to be hard on myself (as well as a slight tendency for understatement).

Well, now that i'm just rambling, and seem to have forgotten the reason for starting this post, i will sign off.

i have lost my faith in cynicism.

For years i have guarded my heart with bitterness and an uncompromising cynicism toward all things romantic. This is starting to change, regardless of how i see some relationships playing out around me.

Someone told me that she will laugh at me when i get into a relationship and do all the things that i've been complaining about regarding how people are in romantic relationships. i still don't know how i feel about that, but it almost borders on being offensive (edit: She read my blog, there was a slight misunderstanding on my part, it's all cleared up now). Then i think back on my last relationship, and how i became one of those couples that i hated so much. Now, i do know that the next time i get into a relationship it won't be such a mess as that one, at least now i have a basic foundation of how relationships should and should not be done. That being said, i still wonder, just how much of that idiocy will i repeat, and how much of that idiocy is unavoidable?

Anyways, i'm sick of being tagged as bitter, of being labeled as a cynic, and i'm sick of those statements being accurate. i don't want to be a cynic anymore, i'm just not sure how to go about changing...

i dunno how i feel about this poem, but whatever, here it is:

this dark shell around my heart is beginning to crack

and from within a weak light is shining through

i pry at the cracks but my fingers slip

my hands are weak and shaky

the task seems insurmountable and my strength ebbs

tears well up in my eyes

i try to hold back

the dam breaks

the cascade flows over the shell of my heart

i just want to let go

i want to rid myself of this suffocating cage

my heart wants to soar

until it finds a place to nest

as my tears baptize my scarred and wounded heart

the dark shell softens

the cracks widen

and healing comes

the fire within the shell, so nearly stifled

is not doused by the flow

but fed

the tears become flame adding to the conflagration within

my bitterness is consumed

but that is not the end

the healing will take time

and effort

but when it is complete my heart will soar and someday find

its resting place

A Portrait of my Beatrice, or The Impossible Woman, or A Romantic's Quest for a Hopeless Ideal.

This is a pretty much pointless post, so i would not feel obligated to actually read it if i were you.

i want a woman who:
is strong of character, gentle of spirit
loves me for who i am and challenges me to become who i'm meant to be
doesn't care if her body isn't "perfect" according to the standards of society
has a vision for her life that compliments and supplements my own
has a passion for justice and the oppressed
doesn't expect me to be the guy from any one of those stupid chick flicks
can see just why St. Valentine's Day is such a scam
is alright with occasionally wearing dresses/skirts
is able and willing to open up to me, and is willing to let me open up to her
is able and willing to put up with my wackiness
doesn't buy into the lie that love = flowers/chocolates/jewelery/$$$
follows her own sense of fashion, unpolluted by society
likes holding hands and cuddling
is good with kids (and wants her own someday)
is eccentric in her tastes (though i suppose that would pretty much be a given if she were to end up with me)
is intelligent and thoughtful, not frightened of introspection
is affectionate, not clingy
is able to accept the fact that i do have friends who i may want to spend time with
is communicative, says what she means (forgive me, i am a guy, thus, i am oblivious)
is able to live without me and doesn't think about me constantly (i don't want anyone addicted to, or obsessed with me, that's not love, it's creepy, and i only like the whole statement "you complete me" when it's being said to Batman by Joker)

i probably ought to make it clear that Dante never did end up with Beatrice, he simply viewed her as the incarnation of beatific love. His love for her was secret, unrequited and highly respectful. She was a muse of his, he wrote a number of sonnets to her, and one of his more popular works, La Vita Nuova, was also inspired by her. That is why i chose her name to represent this ideal of mine.

Introspection That Isn't Dark Or Moody, or The Happy Post.

This is a compilation of two of my Facebook notes (The Happy Note pts 1 & 2), with a bit more happiness thrown into the mix.

things that make me happy:
- Little examples of common courtesy whether i'm giving, receiving, or simply witnessing them.
- Nature doing its thing i.e. a squirrel stashing some food in my back fence.
- Making people laugh.
- My bed, at least when I'm really tired.
- The nonsensical banter that is so common, and idiosyncratic, to my family.
- My friends.
- When pretty girls smile (of course, this is because the smile usually adds a great deal to their beauty).
- Little kids at play.
- Tales of hope and beauty in the twilight of our souls.
- When i manage to write something that i actually like.
- Choir tours (or at this point, memories of choir tours).
- Meeting cool people.
- Being accepted and loved for who i am.
- Books (generally, the more phantasmagorical the better).
- Cornerstone Music Festival.
- Cooking or baking, especially with other people.
- Hugs.
- The freedom to make mistakes.
- Good music.
- My brothers and sister-in-law.
- My parents (believe it or not).

i could (should) probably write more along these lines, but i think is a good enough start at least.

More Labyrinthine Thoughts and Enigmatic Ramblings

i was planning on my next post being "A Portrait of my Beatrice, or The Impossible Woman, or A Romantic's Quest for a Hopeless Ideal," but i probably won't bother publishing that one, even though i have put some serious work into it.

As i mentioned in my last post, i have been thinking a lot lately about whether or not my weirdness is genuine. Last night, caught in the throes of a mild identity crisis, i nearly came to the conclusion that the only reason i do the weird things that i do is because otherwise people will just ignore me. Unless i make myself noticeable, no one will notice me. That's how i feel, regardless of the veracity of the statement.

Another thing i noticed about myself is that every time i reveal a bit more of my heart, just opening up in any small way at all, will only lead to me closing back up again (if not even more). This i do because i feel like people just forget what i have said almost immediately after i have said it, thus removing any meaning the vulnerability may have had.

i hate goodbyes, and i hate anticipating goodbyes. Sometimes it seems like as soon as i let someone in i am hit with the cold, hard, truth that eventually they will be gone. This is nearing being an absolute in my mind. No matter how close someone is to me, i will have to say goodbye to them at some point. This is one of the reasons that the idea of a romantic relationship is so frightening to me. All relationships end at some point, and it always hurts when they do.

My insecurities have been hounding me more so than usual. as of late. What have i got to offer? What right do i have to be in a position of leadership? Would my friends still love and respect me if was fully honest and open with them? Is it even possible for me to be fully honest and open with anyone?

i am pretty sure that i am not at all capable of accepting any sort of compliment. That probably comes as a real shock to you. While it is partially that i don't believe them, most often compliments just baffle me, i have no idea how to respond to them.

Well, that's enough of this nonsense for now.

Welcome to the labyrinth that is my mind

My head is full.

With all that is going on, i am impressed by the fact that i haven't shut down altogether, emotionally and mentally. It's been crazy these past few weeks. The DTS is going swell, i love the group we've got here. The unfortunate bit is the schedule; it's packed.

Then there's all the relationship drama that's going on among the various couples that are friends of mine, which is something i just don't want to have to deal with.

A friend of mine lost her baby, which is a sort of pain i cannot, and will never, begin to understand. Her name is Jayna, please keep her in your prayers.

Other crises that friends of mine are going through run the gamut from questioning their faith to thinking they will never be good enough for a romantic relationship (gee, that sounds familiar for some reason...).

Please don't read this as me whining about my friends and downplaying their struggles, i'm not. i love these people and i'm an empath. When one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers.

Now, add to that my personal craziness. The nagging quasi-desire for a girlfriend, the constant worry that i'm going to let someone, anyone, down, the desire to be understood and the hesitancy to let anyone into my heart, blah, blah, blah.

i just read over my post Stale Beer and Cigarettes again, and the apparent paradoxes of my being jumped out at me again. Lately i've been thinking that maybe my weirdness is just a front, an act so that people think i'm unique and "special." That line of thinking worries me. What if it is all just masks and costumes that i've convinced myself are my face and skin?

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

I have found I do the vast majority of my introspection late at night. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about love, and not the unconditional, look-out-for-your-fellow-man type love, but the *gasp* romantic variety.

While this is one of the only areas in life in which I am a genuine cynic, it is also one of the things a desire most. A "significant other," someone I can write cheesy poetry about and go for long walks with, hand in hand. I've had this strong desire for this kind of love for as long as I can remember, I've had countless crushes throughout my life, and almost as many rejections. I have come to the conclusion that these rejections, coupled with my intense desire for requited love, have had something of a major impact on me. I have found that when a girl expresses interest in me, and there is the slightest chance, however minute it may be, that something could possibly come of it, immediately my heart says: "Good enough!" and latches on to that person.

This has happened on more than one occasion.

The prime example would be the girl I dated (yes, there has only been one, surprise!). Here's the story: It was my grade twelve year, and there was this really cute girl in one of the choirs I was in. Me and her struck up a friendship, we talked quite a bit. I got to liking her something awful, and she eventually admitted to having some feelings for me. So, what did the ever-brilliant Brenden Knight end up doing? He started dating one of her friends. Now, why would I do something like that? Well, I knew this girl wouldn't be able to date for a while, and I found out her friend would indeed date me if I were to ask her out. Later I found out the girl I dated wasn't even all that interested in me in the beginning either. Shockingly enough, this not so well-founded relationship lasted for 13 months. By then it was obvious we were terrible for each other, and so she broke it off. Also, I should point out that I wanted to end it, but didn't because I'm a wuss. Now, being two and a half years after the fact, I am just coming to grips with just how wrong the relationship was, it ruined the friendship I had with both girls mentioned.

So how do I go about taking off these shaded glasses that I wear?  How do I find the middle ground between my bitter cynicism towards romance in general and my overpowering desire for such a relationship? People have told me to "just let it go" or "give it to God," but I am still unclear as to what that means exactly, and how I go about doing such a thing. I'm sure my somewhat obsessive personality doesn't help the matter much at all...

Well, I'm tired now, and I don't really know what else to say about the matter.