“We love what we love. Reason does not enter into it… Anyone can love ‘because.’ That’s as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something ‘despite.’ To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.” -Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man’s Fear
You should probably ignore this post. To be honest, I’m not certain I’m going to publish this post.
I don’t recall which classic story ended in the perpetrator getting walled into a room forever. I thought it was The Count of Monte Cristo, but I’m likely incorrect. I just have a vivid mental image of him screaming through the tiny remaining open space as the final brick slides into place.
That’s where I am right now. Only I’m bricking myself into my own prison.
Amidst all the horrific stress and terror of the past month, I’ve been desperately pushing down/aside/away other things that have cracked my foundations and left me on precarious footing. I locked it all away for a time, ignoring everything for weeks under the wave of fear and worry associated with the accident. Now that Husband is doing significantly better and I no longer wonder if he’ll live, I’m getting to the point that if I DON’T let something out that last brick will slide into place. And I’ll be trapped in self-imposed isolation.
Ultimately, the main drama will be resolved somehow or another, and it doesn’t really matter what it was (because it will eventually be dealt with). What matters for this post is this: I’m a person with many acquaintances and very few real friends (by friends I don’t mean people who consider me their friend: I mean people I’m willing to trust and lean on when I need them).
I don’t trust easily or well, and I don’t let many past those outer periphery “I know you and generally like you some” edges. When I discover someone isn’t actually trustworthy in my moral code, fair or not, I purposefully withdraw from everyone. I bury everything deep under a pasted-on a positive attitude and keep going on the outside.
On the inside I’m slapped by shock, followed by incendiary overwhelming anger, followed by humiliation and despair…who hold red-hot pokers in their evil little hands and beat me as long as I let them. Those devious bastards insert and foster dark thoughts and invite anger back to the party, particularly when I’m alone at 3am.
And now I’m sorely tempted not to trust anyone again. I’m caught between “you never should’ve anyway” and “if you don’t open up now and again you’ll be alone.”
I’m aware of the over-dramatic nature of my anxiety, pain and depression. I’m even aware that my moral code is harsher than most and likely an unfair standard, particularly in certain situations. I find this to be somewhat of a failing in my character, that opening up isn’t often worth the risk to my heart. It’s a part of me that’s been under construction for quite some time as I try to keep myself from alienating people in general and be more…positive…about humans.
Husband keeps telling me how proud he is of me for dealing with everything that’s going on and keeping it together, but all of that is an utter sham. I’m not and don’t deserve any sort of praise here. I’m a brick or two away from being completely walled-in and emotionally frozen. I’m not suicidal. I’m just broken. I don’t know what to do about it.
I put the quote about love at the top of this post to remind myself what I want to work toward: loving despite and including flaws. Even when I’m talking about my own.