Boundaries
"I never tried to give my life meaning by demeaning you,
And I'd like to state for the record that I did everything I could do.
I'm not saying that I'm a saint; I just don't want to live that way.
No, I'll never be a saint, but I will always say..."
I made a rather difficult decision yesterday morning to cut someone very dear to me out of my life for the time being. I won't get into the details; as much as I adore chisme, I can't in good conscience air this person's dirty laundry. This weekend, this person unleashed about four years of pent-up resentment and frustration in an irrational and hateful two hour-long rant about how I don't visit enough and how I think I'm better than everyone else.
The worst part is that I love this person deeply, and I think that mental illness is probably playing a part in those perceptions of me. I feel sad, emotionally raw, and exhausted, and making the decision to ask this person not to contact me was incredibly difficult.
I've spent the last few days frantically grading papers while getting distracted imagining all the fallout that will come from my decision. I am finally recovering, spending a lot of time snuggling my husband and my cat and reminding myself that sometimes success inspires jealousy instead of pride in those who claim to love us.
I sing "32 Flavors." I talk to friends. I think of gardens, and how sometimes you have to make way for good things to grow by uprooting noxious plants. I think of the waning moon and the scythe. I tell my husband the same stories over and over again. I think how many modern witches draw a protective circle, a boundary, and I think how I have drawn such a boundary around myself emotionally. I cry. It's a break-up, in many ways. I wonder if the other person feels sad like I do, or if this is just going to be more fuel for the hate.
"Squint your eyes, and look closer. I'm not between you and your ambition.
I am a poster girl with no poster. I am 32 flavors and then some.
I'm beyond you peripheral vision, so you might want to turn your head.
'Cause some day you might find you are starving, and eating all of the words you just said."
-Ani DiFranco, "32 Flavors"
And I'd like to state for the record that I did everything I could do.
I'm not saying that I'm a saint; I just don't want to live that way.
No, I'll never be a saint, but I will always say..."
I made a rather difficult decision yesterday morning to cut someone very dear to me out of my life for the time being. I won't get into the details; as much as I adore chisme, I can't in good conscience air this person's dirty laundry. This weekend, this person unleashed about four years of pent-up resentment and frustration in an irrational and hateful two hour-long rant about how I don't visit enough and how I think I'm better than everyone else.
The worst part is that I love this person deeply, and I think that mental illness is probably playing a part in those perceptions of me. I feel sad, emotionally raw, and exhausted, and making the decision to ask this person not to contact me was incredibly difficult.
I've spent the last few days frantically grading papers while getting distracted imagining all the fallout that will come from my decision. I am finally recovering, spending a lot of time snuggling my husband and my cat and reminding myself that sometimes success inspires jealousy instead of pride in those who claim to love us.
I sing "32 Flavors." I talk to friends. I think of gardens, and how sometimes you have to make way for good things to grow by uprooting noxious plants. I think of the waning moon and the scythe. I tell my husband the same stories over and over again. I think how many modern witches draw a protective circle, a boundary, and I think how I have drawn such a boundary around myself emotionally. I cry. It's a break-up, in many ways. I wonder if the other person feels sad like I do, or if this is just going to be more fuel for the hate.
"Squint your eyes, and look closer. I'm not between you and your ambition.
I am a poster girl with no poster. I am 32 flavors and then some.
I'm beyond you peripheral vision, so you might want to turn your head.
'Cause some day you might find you are starving, and eating all of the words you just said."
-Ani DiFranco, "32 Flavors"
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