The Pusher

Certain people...why do they vex me so much? My most vexing personality type is the PUSHER. They suck the juice out of my brain and it is just so tired....

Recently, I had an unusually taxing experience with the Pusher...I had to keep reiterating that my response in a situation was about BRAIN FATIGUE...BRAIN FATIGUE...BRAIN FATIGUE...BRAIN FATIGUE...BRAIN FATIGUE!

I wanted to get some some facts straight:

• I am not her
• My brain is not her brain
• My particular needs for balance and harmony are not hers.
• I was not angry that she spilled tea on my desk--I recognized that was an accident--I'm not delusional.

I was angry about what the spilled tea DID to my already fragile psyche…(my fatigued brain). It was merely the straw that broke the camel's back. The scene escalated because the triggers continued to appear, on the heels of an already-present breaking point. I realized I had again fallen prey to the limits of my psyche; My books were stained with tea, several diskettes were ruined, I was fearful that the liquid would drip into my computer which was at the rear of my desk without a cover on it; she continued to apologize for the Tea, when it was not about the tea, it was about the trigger that would not have appeared had she honored my requests earlier.

Yes, I threw my glasses, and I threw the tea glass. I was angry and frustrated and it was an angry, frustrated reaction. But I know she made an assumption about it. I did NOT throw the stuff off my desk, it got nudged off when I was wiping the spill and that desktop hutch and all its shelves and the drawer were merely propped together and not fastened, so they fell to pieces when it fell, and it took everything with it because everything with cords was run under it and got snagged on the way down… just so she didn't think I did some table-clearing out of rage.

I did not harm my dog, Giz. I walked into the hall to get a towel out of the hamper, and saw him on top of the bed, digging. I smacked him on the ass and chased him with that plastic tub lid to scare him so he'd be less likely to do it again.

I never, at any time, wanted to or DID become physical toward her. I was angry and completely taxed, and completely frustrated with her continued inability to understand a simple concept I have explained to her ad nauseum, which she choose to continually ignore, and which continues to indicate that she is hard-headed and not concerned with what I need in order to be healthy. This, while she has simultaneously told me lately how UNQUALIFIED I was to share a home with her, be her lover, or to ever share a home with her or be her lover.

The issue was BRAIN FATIGUE. She pushed. She always pushes. She doesn't know when to stop pushing. She is a PUSHER. And she pushes because she has this intrinsic blindness in her mind about what is the natural "speed" of things. Her speed, the one in her head is NOT COMMON. She continues to impose her own truths on the brains of others. This will ALWAYS cause people to react in negative ways, unless they are a type of person who enjoys being pushed. As for her comment about me needing a drug to withstand her mental pummelings, I daresay that a large portion of the population would also need that. (and it is a much wiser alternative than allowing my emotions to completely take over a situation that needs, instead, rational thinking). Perhaps it is why her previous girlfriends have become so crazed and volatile around her. Has she considered that?? Has she considered that their organic or chemical craziness could in part be induced by her own tendency to PUSH?

Concerning the elements that contributed to this series of events….I have not been sleeping well for days. I have been worried about her and her situation for some time, and feel deeply the troubles she has experienced; I have been working on my own web sites, examining all the new epiphanies I've had in a relatively short time; trying to understand this new piano gadget; trying to understand financial issues and budgeting things for my future; doing research on a grand number of difficult subjects; thinking a lot about my relationships with other people and what my future may or may not hold; running that track in my head of things she has said to me lately such as "Never in a million years will I be with you romantically because I can't be with a mentally ill person" and dealing with the overwhelming sadness that brings me, as I feel it is simultaneously something I cannot completely cure, and something that is also made worse by her particular insistence that things exist as she interprets them; I've had stomach problems, bad nutrition, hormonal fluctuations, and I've had a backache and a raging headache on and off for about 5 days…so my BRAIN was taxed when she came over. . .that's part of it.

The most important part of it, however, and the part I would like her to focus on, is STILL BRAIN FATIGUE--But the kind SHE inflicts. And last night she inflicted it on an already-fatigued brain (something she does to me repeatedly). I did very well for quite some time, but we were at that project for 13 hours, not counting the couple of breaks, and the work done the previous day. (I don't spend 13 hours at a time on my own stuff, contrary to what she seems to think. I switch off and do meditative things to rest my brain before I go back to it. And when my body tells me to rest, I rest. I don't care whether that seems "normal" to her or not. It just IS. This method is the way I have managed to feel more mentally healthy lately. This is one of the controls I have put in place in order to "Play to my strengths." These controls are not ALLOWED by her because all she can focus on is what she needs from me, and not how to work with me so that I can give her what she needs from me. I guess she doesn't comprehend this and assumes I am somehow shortchanging her. (This is not accurate).

It is a fact that if someone is mentally tired, they will revert to more primitive responses. Look it up. That's what happened last night and that's what has happened to me in the past years when my brain was also taxed beyond endurance by dis-ease in my body, chemicals, stress, pain, and a person who continues to PUSH.

Now, she will roll her eyes and get on the Superior Train with her little GOLDEN ticket::: but I take responsibility for one thing and one thing only….NOT INSISTING to her that I get some rest and be in a rested brain state before we continued. I let her convince me several times to just sit back down and continue for a few more minutes…although I knew it would take more than that…(this is a repetitive pattern with us). Even a few more minutes meant much more to me than it ever could to her, because of the implications for me, personally. (That's living on the edge, and while you she may require that to feed her Dervish brain, I DON'T).

While I was taxing my brain, she was reading emails, answering emails, coming up with still more complicated ways to add to her site, and sitting there watching. This process affected me more because my brain is NOT her brain. When my brain begins to shut down, it's for a reason. It is my body's response to overload. It is a defense mechanism manufactured by my own body. It is not much different than the body's response to pain, or the actual MEANING of pain. Pain is an indicator that something is wrong, something is out of balance. The real solution for that is never to mask the pain, but to eliminate the thing that is causing it. (Again, I see that she thinks I was somehow doing nothing different for her than I do for myself, but she cannot possibly appreciate the changes I've made here when I am alone…I know when to stop, and I know how to start properly so that I am prepared--no different than a marathon runner who knows there has to be certain things accomplished and in place before they can begin to compete. She is very blessed that mental things are not like marathons for her).

I also know when to rest. When alone, I allow myself to do that, and then I function better. She pushes me past my limits. She would get the same reaction from a vehicle she drove at 100 MPH for extreme distances: it would run out of gas, blow a head gasket, burn up all the oil, or simply stop running; the same also for an animal if she pushed it to a corner and prodded it with a sharp stick: it would bite her and run away. This is a basic law of human nature. I owe her no apology for being human. If she is too myopic, arrogant and self-centered to understand this concept, then all I can say is, she's going to have a hell of a time finding anyone who can be compatible with her.

She also has this fallacious idea that I spend hours and hours without stopping, working on my webpages. I do spend hours and hours. And why does she think it takes me so long? I give myself BREAKS, and I only work on them when I have prepared my brain for it at the beginning, which, as she recalls, she did not allow me to do. The entire morning started off in exactly the sort of fashion that creates chaos and stress for me in my brain. She does not understand this, and I guess never will, and there is not a fucking thing I can say to make her understand it. Perhaps she is not wired to understand it, just as I am not wired to function in the way she sees fit--another example of her being intellectually self-absorbed. I told her many times I require certain things in order to function in a healthy way, and I have been VERY successful in creating and maintaining that recently. It changes when she comes along and imposes her own process on me. If she is incapable of allowing others to honor their own process, to implement their own set of conditions that are conducive to productivity and harmony, then the problem lies with her--not them, or me. If she wants things done perfectly and in record time, she should do it herself, as she seems to be the only one qualified.

The only thing I am guilty of is not being strong enough to withstand the repeated attacks on my brain that she is so fond of orchestrating. I don't think she does it on purpose or to inflict intentional harm. I think she does it because she can't help herself. Her strength BECOMES her weakness. What she CAN change is this unwillingness to honor the very personal and crucial requests of others less fortunate than herself in the brain-function department. She will never find that peer or that lifemate she wants until she realizes this about herself.

She bribed me, cajoled me, begged me, pushed and prodded and even used a few guilt-inducing comments so that I would do it anyway. So my MISTAKE was only that I did not have the balls to tell her NO, Absolutely NOT. This stems from the fact that I love her and I share a history with her that I am forever trying to "live down." Regardless, I will not let this taint the progress I have made, and I will not let her make me the scapegoat because it would be so easy to do that since I am the one with the "problem." How convenient that she has someone to foist all that onto, rather than looking at her own part in it.

She is quickly becoming another one of those people who refuse to allow me to be who I am. Does she even understand what it means to allow people to be who they are? Not this, "I don't care" stance she takes, but truly, realistically and fairly allowing that others are not HER. I am the one who has had stress issues, who has had an overly sensitive constitution because of them, who "doesn't have to work for a living"-- I am the pariah. Fuck that. I have managed to survive when I probably shouldn't have, I manage to look in the mirror when it makes me disgusted or frightened or angry. I have struggled my whole life to be a better person, a person who is productive, and who honors my gifts and always tries to hang on to that loving portion of myself, that compassion, that thirst for knowledge and understanding, and that sometimes vicious challenge of reinventing the self. I'm not responsible for other people's misplaced resentments about their own mistakes and their own life-outcomes.

I am SO sad that this pattern continues to happen with us, even when I implement solutions for my own part in it. I have made many changes, and a great many of them have been in an effort to find some harmony with her--between us. But I can see now that my efforts are inconsequential because she continues to REFUSE to meet me halfway; (meeting halfway is not defined as "I don't care" or a dismissal if the real issues). She continues to say she will meet me halfway, and then she won't. There is no question that I do have episodes like this--the reactions to extreme triggers--yes, that's part of the challenge. And that is, by GOD what I have…challenges … challenges I choose to rise to rather than run from.

I don't, however, think those challenges define me as "crazy," and I don't think it makes me much different than 9 out 10 of the people out there in the world. I just think the combination of the psychological and the physical makes me incapable of dealing well with certain situations at this point. But that doesn't mean I can't heal myself of the wounds that exist outside those things, or that have developed peripherally stemming from those things... It doesn't mean I don't make progress. It doesn't mean I can't separate the disabilities from the natural evolution that takes place inside a being who is aware enough to embrace it. I think some people just learn to control certain aspects of their lives to avoid those triggers, and some don't. I have worked very hard at discovering those things that trigger me, and I have toiled to degrees that she cannot imagine, to implement ways to alleviate them. (take organization and housecleaning and tidiness for an example…I was a slob my whole life and very unorganized, and now I am not, because I CHOSE to change that for my own mental health and to discipline myself). I have changed habits, altered facets of my personality, and questioned every indignation, fear, belief system and coping skill that occupies my mind and heart and life; and I have made great progress. I am proud of that progress and what happened last night does not negate that progress, nor does it support the overly-simplified argument she makes.

From her note and phone messages to me, it is clear that she has some erroneous ideas, and has once again missed the point. The point is not the spilled tea glass--that was merely the trigger that finally released what had been building for hours. The point is NOT that I was helping her with her web page--contrary to what she said in the messages--I completed a great deal in a short period of time without the usual problems; and the conflict only began when I started informing her that my brain needed to get away from it, but she decided it simply wasn't enough for her. . .The point is NOT that I am mentally ill and have irrational reactions to some things; I have normal reactions to abnormal stimuli. The point is that she tends to exacerbate those responses by her unwillingness to adapt to the needs of other people around her. And this is something that will reappear in her life repeatedly, until she fully grasps that she is an anomaly, and EVERYONE will disappoint her because her level of mental functioning is so much higher than the average….

She says she could never be with me in a partnership again in a "million years" because she's "not built to be with a mentally ill person." Perhaps she's even missing the point in that. Because I know in my experience with her that she is incapable of putting herself aside, as selfless as she thinks she is. Although she can be generous, loving, giving, kind, funny, brilliant…and an entire list of other wonderful things…..she is incapable, in certain instances, of backing off. She is incapable of tempering her own narrow idea of what the process must be in order to gain the outcome, and of comprehending that everyone else's brain is not her brain.

Perhaps it is time that the light switcher has her own room illuminated.

The Pusher

Mississippi: First Circle of Hell?

Mississippi just might be the first Circle of Hell. The heat and humidity here is oppressive, to say the least. I can always get a derisive laugh out of locals when i say, "When's it going to snow?" I admit, i had some preconceived notions about moving to a coastal area. Most of those notions were probably based on movies I've seen like Sleepless in Seattle.

Important distinction here: that's the Pacific Northwest, this is the Southern Gulf. I've noticed that when people talk about living "bi-coastal,"they are obviously leaving out the THIRD coast. The U.S. is really tri-coastal. The Gulf Coast, however, is like the red-headed step-child.

I can't speak to the appearance of the ocean on either West or East coast, but i can say that the Gulf of Mexico looks like one giant mud puddle. It certainly doesn't appear as it does in movies. And there are no shells or other washed-up sea treasures on the beaches--no, they clean the coastal sand with a big vacuum truck. So beach-combing is out.

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Then there's the Tern sanctuary area that you must avoid in the interest of preserving an endangered species.

And you can't have your dog on the beach either. That will cost you a hefty fine

I had hoped to go floundering for the first time in my life, but roommate, who is a Mississippi Gulf Coast native, said it was awfully dangerous, since we would likely be accosted by bad men up to no good.

Even with all these obstacles aside, often the beaches are just plain CLOSED. Most often, "as a result of high bacteria levels." We are told we will be notified when it is again safe for human contact. The good stuff about beaches, then, is not to be had.

Then there's the threat of hurricanes. Obviously, not something one looks forward to, but even if no one is hurt and there is minimal property damage, there's the power outages that leave you in sweltering triple-digit heat afterward for sometimes weeks. And if the roads are blocked near where you live due to debris, then all the hoodlums are likely to take advantage. Cops can't get to you, you can't leave, so you're at the whim of any gang members or other undesirables who may want to enter your house and take whatever they want--including YOU.

To add to the negative column, there's also an unrelenting collection of toads that croak so loud, it can drown out the TV.

Overall, Probably most bothersome are the fleas. I've never in my life had so much trouble with flea infestation. About 3 times a day, i have to get down in the floor with my dog and pick fleas. Hundreds at a time. A few hours later, he's scratching and whining like crazy again. Cats have them too. Nothing store-bought works. I'm about to try herbal and natural remedies next.

Not surprisingly, i am looking forward to living in Colorado again, if i can ever get to the right region--Boulder/Denver area. I'll take cold weather, fresh air, creative arts communities, and cultural and entertainment choices any day over a bad beach. I just hope there's no unforeseen form of hell there. Like giant, attacking snow bunnies.

Mississippi: First Circle of Hell?

Vaudeville Mantis, Finals & A Severed Finger

I DREAMED there was this Praying Mantis who was the size of one of those anti-theft steering wheel "clubs." This Mantis could sing and dance like a seasoned vaudevillian.... I came around a corner in this building and saw him and was flabbergasted. He was singing "My Way." All I could think about was getting to my camera so I could return and capture this once-in-a-lifetime event... When i returned, camera in hand, the Vaudeville Mantis had gone; witnesses pointed around the corner, and I found him there, smaller, not singing and not dancing...a regular mantis...i was so mad. No one would believe me, now. I would have no photographic evidence...I wanted to go tell LS about this...

I moved through the building toward wherever LS was (this large building/dorm theme is recurrent in my dreams... not sure what it means, so if any dream interpretors are out there, drop me a line and edify me). On my jaunt down the corridor, I passed old classmates, all decked out in prom attire. They were saying "You missed the final." (This is also a recurring dream-theme: missing finals or not going to classes, or not being able to find my locker or classroom). I was upset, disturbed, but then said, "Fuck it. Who cares? I don't need school anymore, or that stupid piece of paper that says i graduated."

Continuing on my trek to find LS and tell her about the Vaudeville Mantis, I was worrying with one of my fingers, twisting at it, and pulled it off...severed it like there was nothing to hold it together. There was no blood, though. I tried to push it back together, as if it would magically reseal itself, as I wanted to get to LS.

A few minutes later, I noticed my finger had re-joined on its own...And that made me wonder if it was ever really severed; and if it wasn't, then that might mean that the Vaudeville Mantis wasn't real either; and that might mean i was just a little insane. So i wondered if maybe i shouldn't tell her about the mantis...

Vaudeville Mantis, Finals & A Severed Finger