Civitan

When I started this blog, there was no one reading it, and I swore to tell the truth in its entirety. This was the only place that I was completely and totally honest about my life. I wanted to understand something: the wholeness past all of the deception. When people started reading it, it increased the cathartic effect of truth-telling. It really was complete, devoid of fabrication; people read it, which made it real.
Now, there are several people reading this, a few of whom are hopelessly entwined in my truths. But this blog began a year and a half ago as an exercise in understanding my unimpeded identity, and it will continue to be that. I will continue telling the truth. Perhaps maybe I can take this exercise and implement it everywhere in my life.

When I got to Civitan I was thoroughly numb. I saw Josh everywhere. I sat in the couch that I sat in last year when I first saw him, hovering over Jane, smiling, and so hot I thought I'd never have a chance. It was easy, though, when I found out that he was one of those unconfident boys that doesn't seem aware of how cute they are. I'm good about seducing those. I can feel confident around people that don't feel confident; it's only around those that do feel confident that I lose all of my assertiveness.
I saw Josh in the cafeteria, in the stairwells. They were these little phantom images of Josh, because he was gone now, because I could not let him go no matter what I tried.

I found Emily. Or rather she found me. I wasn't sure whether to expect her there or not, and I wasn't sure how to deal with it if she was there. I was paranoid that she wouldn't like me. I was paranoid that I would screw everything up. It wasn't about Josh when it came to Emily... it was just about wanting her (needing her in some ways) as a friend.
It was odd, meeting someone I knew a lot about. It was hard to get over how real she was, in stark contrast to those ghosts of Josh that were floating everywhere. I didn't bother trying to pretend to be someone I wasn't; I just acted liked myself and prayed she'd like me.

We have these envelopes at Civitan that people send you notes in, and after dinner on Sunday, the first night, I found a note from Josh in mine. "I'm here. I'm sorry." I don't know how to explain to you how I felt in that moment. It was as if I had been living in this dream world for three weeks. I think that I had forgotten Josh was a real person, and seeing his handwriting shook everything up for me. I didn't know what to think, feel, or do. Yet again I was trapped in an emotional situation that I was not ready for and had not prepared for. My wrist was still swollen from the last time that happened.
I panicked, I'll admit it. My heart started training for the Indy 500. My lungs felt like they were struggling with iron constraints. I had to keep trying to calm myself down from the rampant anxiety. I tried to close my eyes and imagine seeing him, and it made me feel so disconnected from reality. I had thought I would never see him again; I thought that's what his therapists said had to happen. I thought that he didn't love me anymore, and that his love for me had been part of his BPD all along. I thought that he wasn't the same Josh that came to prom a month ago. I didn't know how to handle this new person. I had just started trying to get over him (although I still thought incessently of suicide and I still knew I'd never get over him in the way Ariel told me he'd gotten over me).
When I did finally see him, sillhoetted in a doorway, the bottom dropped out of everything (I'm sorry, this sounds so dramatic, but it was dramatic). He saw me and turned around and walked away. I saw him and it was like seeing a ghost in the flesh, like seeing a resurrected being. I had almost convinced myself that there was no Josh anymore in the world, only those flimsy memories, and seeing him jarred all of my shaky resolutions that I had been struggling to build since I got that message on my cellphone.
I also knew, upon that fleeting glimpse, that I still loved him with all of the passion that I had ever loved him with, and that if there was anyway, anyway at all in the universe, that I could still be with him and that we could be healthy, I would give up everything material that I own just to have it.

That night was... awkward. I didn't know who he was anymore. From the stories I had been told, he had changed a lot, lost control. Emily sat between us and I didn't look at him, except to look at his hands, which were shaking uncontrollably. I didn't speak to him. I asked Emily whether I should talk to him, and she said only if he talked to me. I didn't know who he was anymore, and I was prepared to ignore him the whole week if he ignored me. I wasn't sure how I could handle loving him directly again; I didn't know if the fierceness of my emotions would be containable in that stressful atmosphere. I worried that I would explode. Every time I saw him I felt like crying, crying, crying, because I thought I had lost him forever. Having him there, seeing him... it was like someone was giving me some tiny shred of hope again, some tiny, feeble ray of light in all of that consuming darkness that threaten to destroy me. I can't blame myself for groping for it, for clinging onto it like it was the only objective thing in a subjective universe.

He did come and talk to me that night. While we were playing games I stared at him and felt that my cardiac muscles were slowly dissolving and my heartbeat was converting to mush. I didn't know how I could go on living my life without him. I remembered all of those days in the past few weeks that I have tried to be strong but ended up in messy tears. I remember all those wondering hours when I pondered whether it was possible or worth to survive after all that had happened. I remembered my tentative resolves to keep on living, to try to find all of that worth inside of myself. I remembered looking inside of myself and being truly shocked at the strength that I found there, beyond everything. I knew that I could exist without Josh, that I could possibly learn to live someday. But I also knew that I would give anything just to have him back again, just to make it so that I and his health could coexist.

Small talk? Maybe. He stood next to me. He said something like how are you, and I answered. I asked if he was doing better, and he said somewhat. It was awkward at first. But he was still Josh. From everything everyone had been telling me, he had metamorphosed into some boy I didn't know. But when I saw him I realized that he was still the Josh he'd always been, but he had lost control, which was bad, and he had lost his masks, which was good. Of all of his masks, I like his raw and bleeding face better- bleeding from the cold, but finally exposed enough to heal.
That night we sat in a group around Dennis (the leader guy) and Josh held my hand. The whole universe was flying through my mind at that moment. I didn't know if it was healthy, or right, so I kept asking Josh, kept letting go of his hand and making sure that I wasn't the focus, that he was himself and not his standard Lindsay-mask. He insisted he was though.

Over the week I realized that he is beginning to make the changes that he needs to make. I am no longer the center of his world. One of the biggest reasons I was attracted to him last summer was that he needed taking care of, and I needed so desperately to be needed. But I understand now that we both need to change those pathologies. I need to let go of that desire to be strong by taking care of him, and find strength inherent within myself (which I am beggining to do). He needs to let go of clinging to me and being absolutely dependent on me, and give everyone in his lives the roles that are appropriate in his healing (which he is beginning to do).

On Monday he scared me by yanking me out on the roof (very against the rules) so he could talk to me alone. I was having a panic attack the whole time we were up there (I'm a little paranoid about breaking rules). He explained to me that his parents told him he wasn't allowed to talk to me for six months to a year, which I explained to him was very not true. I had thought I wasn't allowed to talk to him for at least that long. It was a miscommunication. When he asked if he could kiss me I let go of his hand. I backed up five feet across the roof (I'm amazed at my presence of mind amidst the panic attack). I made him sit there for a minute and really think about what differences there would have to be if we were involved again. I made him think about how I would just be a part of his life, not his whole life. We both thought about it.
He didn't kiss me until we were both entirely sure it was right. It wasn't exactly at that moment. I kept, over the week, constantly making both of us step back and evaluate what was going on. I kept asking if he would be okay on Thursday when I left. I kept reminding of my constancy (and me of his, as I have that symptom of BPD majorly). I kept telling him that I would continue to exist when I went home on Thursday, and he didn't need me to be with him to be happy.

I think that our relationship over the week was making some major moves towards health. I wrote him several notes, all saying that it had to be a healthy relationship, because I'd rather have no relationship than an unhealthy one. We were keeping it real. It was hard for me to try to adjust to not be the center of his life, but it was a relief to know the pressure was gone and that he was beggining to heal.
I also cannot explain to you how wonderful it felt to know that his love for me hadn't been part of his BPD, and that it still existed even when he was trying hard to contain any BPD tendancies.

I don't think we should ever be together really alone, without a social setting, for quite a while. It keeps things real. I don't think, for instance, that it will be smart to do anything like prom for quite a while. But I do believe that these babysteps are taking us to a better place. What we both made clear over the week was that things absolutely had to change. There simply was not the option of going back to the way things were, as tempting as it was. The week was constant work, constant evalution of the way things were going. However, things can be better if they have to be different. That's what I'm always trying to tell myself: as scary as change is, it's worth reaching out sometimes and grasping it, just because of the possibility that things can be better.

However, I am leaving out some majorly important parts of the week. That's how my relationship with Josh was going. But there was an equally important relationship present that I was struggling to hold on to, and totally confused about: my relationship with Emily.

Emily loves Josh. I have known that for a few months, ever since I talked to her one time quite a while ago about how I was afraid that Josh was deifying me (which he was). It was pretty obvious in that conversation. However, although I am horrible about fear of abandonment and I need to be told every day that someone loves me for me to believe it, I didn't want to be afraid of what would happen between Emily and Josh. Through all of this I have tried really hard to just trust God. I felt in my heart that Josh was the right one for me, the one I would be with forever. But I also felt that if that ever quit being true, God could handle the situation and help me pull through it.

As soon as Josh grabbed my hand on Sunday night I thought immediately of Emily and knew things were getting complicated. I knew she liked Josh a lot. So I wrote her a note about it, and she wrote back confirming my fears to the worst degree.
I didn't mind that she likes Josh. There's not really much you can do about loving someone. However, I felt totally and completely miserablet that she had to see Josh coming back to me. I think that sometimes Josh isn't really sensative of what girls aroun him are feeilng. I know that he knew Emily was hurting, but I don't think he thought really about how horrible it would be to watch what happened if he were her. I don't even think I really undrestood how horrible it was.

But my last post was about her. Every time I saw her I felt physically sick. I felt doubled over in pain. I hate hurting people. But it was such a horrible situation. I just couldn't let go of Josh because of her, even though a large part of me wanted to. This made me feel selfish, which made me angry at myself. I wanted so badly to do something that made everyone happy, but it was a lose-lose situation.

So although I was so happy to have Josh back, I was also completely and totally miserable. This misery was my fault of course, not Emily's. I want to emphasize that I'm responsible for my own feelings and reactions.

I also really do not want to lose Emily as a friend over this. She is an amazing person. Even though she was hurting all week, she helped me through it. How unselfish is that? I think it's amazing. I don't know if I could do that. I remember when Kayte and Sam hooked up, and how angry I was unconsciously at both of them. I really admire Emily's strength, and that she cares about me even though I have partially ruined something important to her.

Well, the drama continues. I went whitewater rafting yesterday on the Lochsa which was really fun, as there were quite a few large rapids (although none as big as one of the ones on the Snake that we do every year). I was FREEZING though. The water temperature was 40 degrees.

Tomorrow I'm leaving to go to church camp for a week, and then rafting for a week. I'll be back on July 2nd because I have a college class starting on the 3rd (the writing one). I have to drive back from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, all by myself, which is like six hours. I am excited partially because it means I am growing up and can be responsible enough to drive home alone, but I am unhappy because I really hate long-distance driving.