Blood and Guts: Helena Lazaro

(No, this does not mean there won’t be a poem today. I’m keeping my promises for once with this blog thing! I was just navel-gazing and thought I’d share the resulting lint-discovery with you)

I’m a brat sometimes. Well…usually sometimes. Sometimes always. It’s worse when someone indulges me. I get what I want, and then I want more! Typically, it’s more of their time, attention, affection. And whatever interferes with that (even an inanimate object like a Playstation, or a job) becomes my sworn enemy. I remember hating, hating my ex’s computer with a passion. What can I say? I’m just a very jealous girl who wants things (and people) to herself because, in the past, I’ve had to share when I didn’t want to.

But I’ve come to realize that monopolizing someone’s time and attention won’t make me feel any better about that part of my life, and it certainly doesn’t bring me any closer to those people I value (read: hoard). Usually it causes exactly the opposite; lack of personal time and space is just a freaked-out-claustrophobic-flight-response waiting to happen. At least, that’s how I feel when people do it to me.

It’s embarrassing to admit that I am guilty of this, because I consider it one of my greatest weaknesses; one that only emerges when someone begins to inerest me, and usually ends up driving them away. It’s borne of insecurity, the least attractive personality trait in anyone’s esteem (including my own).

But I think recognizing it and understanding it will help me stop, and grow up a little. I’ve ruined so many things trying to make them perfect, trying to find in them exactly what I want, trying to keep them all to myself. Each time, I learn something new. Mainly that I just have to try and remember, other people want to be treated the same way I do. What feels stifling from others will feel the same way from me.

I dated a Buddhist for a little while (his serenity drove me batshit), and once I asked him how he managed to keep from having hard feelings against people who’d hurt him. He said he just reminded himself that no one ever intended to be cruel, that they were simply pursuing their own happiness, and that, ultimately, we all want to be happy and free. It sounded like a hokey line to me at the time (and maybe he turned out to be kind of a jerk), but the more I think about it the more I realize it’s true.

I’m trying to be better. Really, I am.

I grew up in a house with yelling. Lots of yelling. People would yell and fight, and say things to each other that made the Bundys seem like the Cleavers. Hearing that you were crazy, or telling someone that they were maniacal, was a regular occurrence. Polite conversation, even. And forty minutes later it would be as if nothing had happened.

Now, I’m not here to discuss whether or not this is healthy behavior (because it probably isn’t, but I’m not ready to deal with that). The point is that (as I’ve already mentioned recently), I don’t have a hard time saying what I think. Exactly what I think. Maybe sometimes I even intentionally provoke people. Just a little. But it’s only because I’m a firm believer in getting shit out–you get the shit out, have your words, and then everyone can carry on with their lives. If you’re romantically involved with the shit-ter or shit-tee, you even get to have some of that awesome make-up sex. Bonus!

But sometimes I forget how powerful words can be. And I forget not everyone has the stomach I do. Of course, it’s usually with good reason (and a great deal of aggravation) that I bare my teeth…but that’s not the point. The point is that sometimes it backfires on me. Some folks see the teeth and instead of growling back they turn tail and run.

And why wouldn’t they? I call people emotional cripples then wonder why they don’t want to be friends with me. How can I explain this threshhold for brutality to them? How can I say, Just because I hate you doesn’t mean I don’t love you?

I can’t. And I shouldn’t. Because if it doesn’t make sense now, it probably never will–so I should just let go. And maybe work on letting my head cool before I break out the chainsaw.