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Aug. 22nd, 2015 04:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
astillarOnce again, I can't sleep. I continue to swing between two trains of thought. I look back on my mistakes and wonder what I could have done differently, how could I have avoided losing her; avoided driving a wedge between us. I have many regrets about how I behaved. The weekend Layla died was a big one. The botched week we spent house-sitting together. How I made a point of resisting as she pushed me to say I loved her or to join her in daydreams about living together or the possibility of kids. I look back at moments like these and see how easy it would have been to have done the right thing but I was stubborn and did what I thought was 'right'. I agonize over these failings.
On the other hand I take the bitter medicine and try to convince myself that even if I'd made the best choices, our relationship would have collapsed eventually anyways. Jane is a slave to her psychology and her medication (willingly or unwillingly, it doesn't matter). Even though she cared about me so much that I was only the second man that she'd ever wanted to live with, that wasn't enough to overcome her biology. I loved her when she awake and truly present (her goofy antics and witty sass and intelligent sparkle) and I began to hate when she was asleep. Not only did it make me feel unimportant and interfered with so many of my aspirations for us, but it would also cast a long shadow on our waking time together. The migraines, her aches and pains, the nightmares, her slow metabolism which only served to further extend the effects of the medication; to me it seemed so obvious that many of her troubles were rooted in her dependence on these drugs. I wanted her to be healthy and alive and alert with me, not constantly narcoleptic and unhealthy. I could have educated myself on these matters of her psychology and these drugs, that might have made me more considerate and forgiving. But even if I had come to understand and accept that aspect of our relationship, I know I would have been unsatisfied with the type of relationship it was beginning to dictate. It would have closed the doors on things I wanted us to be able to do and how I wanted us to be. Even if I could have learned to live with it, I would have had to sacrifice much of what I wanted in order to keep her. Sooner or later, that would have ended us. As this relationship was nearing its end I thought that if we could just hang on until we were employed again, that would force Jane to assume a normal sleeping schedule and that would resolve my biggest concern about us. But then I think back to when we were both on a 9-5 schedule and realize the problem was still there. The rationale and the excuses were different, but it still came between us. So job or no job, the outcome would have been the same. I couldn't have accepted the life that would come with being with Jane and she couldn't change who she is.
When I can convince myself of that conclusion, it seems irrelevant to wonder if I could have truly become the man she wanted me to be, communicative and emotionally supportive and effusive. I don't think I could have ever satisfied those needs of hers. As I look at our relationship I realize that it placed an emphasis her desires and needs. It wasn't quite as severely unequal as the relationship I had with Liz, but it was unbalanced. From minor mundane matters such as whose music we listened to to larger decisions such as whose house we stayed at or whose family and friends we spent more time with. Granted, this imbalance could have stemmed from the possibility that I simply needed less than Jane. I felt at least that my demands were modest, consistent, and few. Also, the imbalance may have been my own fault. I was too eager to please Jane and make her happy so I may have prioritized her needs too much. To this day, I don't understand Jane's disinterest in me. She always said she wanted me to open up more but whenever I'd venture to share something with her that was important to me, she would take no interest in it or disparage it outright. She said my music sounded like women orgasming (while we always listened to her NIN and 90s playlist), she never read any of the books on my shelf (though I read multiple books of hers and her articles as well), she never wanted to watch, let alone play any of my games, even the one I said was the most beautiful one I'd ever played and had inspired me to put 40 hours into sewing a costume of. We watched her movies but none of mine. She declined my invitation to go to the theater to see a movie that reminded me of her. When Lilly and I cosplayed, she didn't once rouse herself to see my project as I was working on it or join the family on the day we wore them. The books I bought when we went to the bookstore she dismissed as being 'depressing'. It was like she was always apathetic or negative about what mattered to me. Is it any wonder I was reluctant to share with her?
She always wanted so much emotional affection and reassurance. Notes, texts, phone calls, emails, instant messages, presents, flowers, gestures. I didn't ask for any of that. I was touched by them and cherished them, but that's not what I wanted from her. I wanted to feel that I was important to her, that she was interested in me and respected me. But most of the time I felt subordinate to her needs, unrelenting as they were. I felt like I wasn't an equal partner in this relationship. I think that was the true root of my recurring frustration. We built the relationship to satisfy her. I'd sit through the painful nightly ministrations for her quirky satisfaction, I reduced my expectations in order to accommodate her minimal sex drive, I worked to incorporate her rational and irrational requests into my own behavior; the focus was on what she wanted/needed. It became more unbalanced in the denouement of our relationship as she began to pull away while I increased my efforts to woo her back. I could never dispel my frustration though, because subconsciously I was aware of the imbalance of effort and affection and respect. I wasn't consciously aware of it during our relationship and I'm kind of surprised about that. I would have thought I'd be keenly sensitive to such a situation after going through it with Liz. But I wanted to be with Jane so much more than I wanted to be with Liz and our good times together were so much better too, that I think that changed my perspective and heightened my tolerance to any inequity in our relationship. I don't know if I would have become consciously aware of this imbalance if we had stayed together. Perhaps so. That frustration was probably my coalescing awareness that this relationship wasn't fair. I helped make it unfair.
Jane made the correct decision when she asked me to stop coming to her shows. Her reasons are different than mine, but I agree that that was the proper course to take. Despite all my efforts to convince myself that this relationship was not sustainable or fulfilling for me, I still want to be with her. And that's why I shouldn't be with her, not even as a friend. Not now anyways. But I still can't help but wonder, What would have had to be different about us, for it to have worked? I can't help but feel that we were so close to being just right for one another. I feel that we almost had it and not knowing the answer keeps me from getting any rest.
On the other hand I take the bitter medicine and try to convince myself that even if I'd made the best choices, our relationship would have collapsed eventually anyways. Jane is a slave to her psychology and her medication (willingly or unwillingly, it doesn't matter). Even though she cared about me so much that I was only the second man that she'd ever wanted to live with, that wasn't enough to overcome her biology. I loved her when she awake and truly present (her goofy antics and witty sass and intelligent sparkle) and I began to hate when she was asleep. Not only did it make me feel unimportant and interfered with so many of my aspirations for us, but it would also cast a long shadow on our waking time together. The migraines, her aches and pains, the nightmares, her slow metabolism which only served to further extend the effects of the medication; to me it seemed so obvious that many of her troubles were rooted in her dependence on these drugs. I wanted her to be healthy and alive and alert with me, not constantly narcoleptic and unhealthy. I could have educated myself on these matters of her psychology and these drugs, that might have made me more considerate and forgiving. But even if I had come to understand and accept that aspect of our relationship, I know I would have been unsatisfied with the type of relationship it was beginning to dictate. It would have closed the doors on things I wanted us to be able to do and how I wanted us to be. Even if I could have learned to live with it, I would have had to sacrifice much of what I wanted in order to keep her. Sooner or later, that would have ended us. As this relationship was nearing its end I thought that if we could just hang on until we were employed again, that would force Jane to assume a normal sleeping schedule and that would resolve my biggest concern about us. But then I think back to when we were both on a 9-5 schedule and realize the problem was still there. The rationale and the excuses were different, but it still came between us. So job or no job, the outcome would have been the same. I couldn't have accepted the life that would come with being with Jane and she couldn't change who she is.
When I can convince myself of that conclusion, it seems irrelevant to wonder if I could have truly become the man she wanted me to be, communicative and emotionally supportive and effusive. I don't think I could have ever satisfied those needs of hers. As I look at our relationship I realize that it placed an emphasis her desires and needs. It wasn't quite as severely unequal as the relationship I had with Liz, but it was unbalanced. From minor mundane matters such as whose music we listened to to larger decisions such as whose house we stayed at or whose family and friends we spent more time with. Granted, this imbalance could have stemmed from the possibility that I simply needed less than Jane. I felt at least that my demands were modest, consistent, and few. Also, the imbalance may have been my own fault. I was too eager to please Jane and make her happy so I may have prioritized her needs too much. To this day, I don't understand Jane's disinterest in me. She always said she wanted me to open up more but whenever I'd venture to share something with her that was important to me, she would take no interest in it or disparage it outright. She said my music sounded like women orgasming (while we always listened to her NIN and 90s playlist), she never read any of the books on my shelf (though I read multiple books of hers and her articles as well), she never wanted to watch, let alone play any of my games, even the one I said was the most beautiful one I'd ever played and had inspired me to put 40 hours into sewing a costume of. We watched her movies but none of mine. She declined my invitation to go to the theater to see a movie that reminded me of her. When Lilly and I cosplayed, she didn't once rouse herself to see my project as I was working on it or join the family on the day we wore them. The books I bought when we went to the bookstore she dismissed as being 'depressing'. It was like she was always apathetic or negative about what mattered to me. Is it any wonder I was reluctant to share with her?
She always wanted so much emotional affection and reassurance. Notes, texts, phone calls, emails, instant messages, presents, flowers, gestures. I didn't ask for any of that. I was touched by them and cherished them, but that's not what I wanted from her. I wanted to feel that I was important to her, that she was interested in me and respected me. But most of the time I felt subordinate to her needs, unrelenting as they were. I felt like I wasn't an equal partner in this relationship. I think that was the true root of my recurring frustration. We built the relationship to satisfy her. I'd sit through the painful nightly ministrations for her quirky satisfaction, I reduced my expectations in order to accommodate her minimal sex drive, I worked to incorporate her rational and irrational requests into my own behavior; the focus was on what she wanted/needed. It became more unbalanced in the denouement of our relationship as she began to pull away while I increased my efforts to woo her back. I could never dispel my frustration though, because subconsciously I was aware of the imbalance of effort and affection and respect. I wasn't consciously aware of it during our relationship and I'm kind of surprised about that. I would have thought I'd be keenly sensitive to such a situation after going through it with Liz. But I wanted to be with Jane so much more than I wanted to be with Liz and our good times together were so much better too, that I think that changed my perspective and heightened my tolerance to any inequity in our relationship. I don't know if I would have become consciously aware of this imbalance if we had stayed together. Perhaps so. That frustration was probably my coalescing awareness that this relationship wasn't fair. I helped make it unfair.
Jane made the correct decision when she asked me to stop coming to her shows. Her reasons are different than mine, but I agree that that was the proper course to take. Despite all my efforts to convince myself that this relationship was not sustainable or fulfilling for me, I still want to be with her. And that's why I shouldn't be with her, not even as a friend. Not now anyways. But I still can't help but wonder, What would have had to be different about us, for it to have worked? I can't help but feel that we were so close to being just right for one another. I feel that we almost had it and not knowing the answer keeps me from getting any rest.
