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Long post digging around a bit. It is most likely boring as hell. But I have a deal with myself to not be a "private" person.
I have placed myself in communities that are far younger than I am. And while that is fine, it is also reinforcing this sadness. I've set myself up.
I can count on three fingers the number of local folks in my circle who are close to my age (within a few years either way). And a few more over 40.
I have a story about folks who are over 50. And those I know are exceptions. I don't know anyone who actually fits the story! The starting point for this story is that 50 is OLD and very conservative.
This would be an Always Already Listening for folks with wrinkles.
Aeire and I went to a local eatery last night. There was a woman about my age, maybe closer to sixty, sitting with a man slightly older than that two booths away from us.
The music playing was from the late 1960s. She and I were singing along. I expect such behavior from myself. I don't expect such behavior from OLD PEOPLE.
I love Rocky Horror Picture Show. I love my fellow cast members. And I am always aware that I am 20 years older than the seasoned veterans. It really doesn't matter that I want to be part of the gang, I'm not. I've not really wanted to accept that. But it is what is so.
I am not part of the gang in any of my groups. I'm a bit of a curiosity and maybe a really good person to talk to or get advice from or to feel love from when one's friends are not loving. (Oh here is the sadness...almost...)
I have another story. I'm feeling like I am loved for what I provide. A conditional love that comes and goes as those in my life need what I can give or don't need it. I'm the neighborhood doctor who only sees my neighbors when they want something. And they love me THEN.
Damn. I teared up, but it went away again. I just flailed on myself for believing the story. Stoic again.
Okay. Hmmm. When did this story get started? When did I start feeling conditional love from my communities?
Well, Conditional love from Mom but not Dad. But there isn't any juice there. My sister "left" home when I was 11. She was my private superhero. We were never close after that. Although talking to her, our closeness had been mostly one sided. In my innocence, I thought all my feelings for her were mutual. They weren't. She was being a very, very unhappy teen who had little time for family and no time for mom.
That's not it, though. My family was conditional love for the most part. Love was given and withheld as a motivator. Not uncommon in that time. But the break in belonging at 11 is another story.
It was the end of friendships. A complete break. Friends and sweeties in Sunnyvale. A neighborhood of boys and girls who played together every day. And upsets and angers never lasted and love was present even when we squabbled. We played tag and hide-n-go seek and doctor. We were sexual, sensuous and mostly sweet with each other. They weren't just friends, they were part of my family.
Abruptly I'm in a new environment. The new kid on the block with odd ways and silly attitudes. The city boy who didn't ride horses or swim in the creek. The boy who wasn't interested in farming or hiking up the mountain. And the boy who was not going to be accepted UNTIL he had proven himself worthy.
My peer group was not to be trusted.
(I'm reciting this. The feeling has retreated again.)
Another approach...
What do I want and why do I want it? I want to be on people's first call list to hang out. Why? 'Cause then I'll know I'm loved.
Damn, what a story that one is! How much of that would be enough? How many times must someone else invite before I believe it? The answer to that, of course, is it would NEVER be enough.
And most people I know are more than willing to meet me half way or more. And here I sit waiting for them to cross the entire distance to prove they want my company. How utterly 13 of me.
I have just pushed the sadness off the stove top. Shit. It will come when it comes. It will wash over me and I will have space to create. Soon would be good.
I think I have a "request for coaching" with Tamara. I'm not getting there on my own very well.
I have placed myself in communities that are far younger than I am. And while that is fine, it is also reinforcing this sadness. I've set myself up.
I can count on three fingers the number of local folks in my circle who are close to my age (within a few years either way). And a few more over 40.
I have a story about folks who are over 50. And those I know are exceptions. I don't know anyone who actually fits the story! The starting point for this story is that 50 is OLD and very conservative.
This would be an Always Already Listening for folks with wrinkles.
Aeire and I went to a local eatery last night. There was a woman about my age, maybe closer to sixty, sitting with a man slightly older than that two booths away from us.
The music playing was from the late 1960s. She and I were singing along. I expect such behavior from myself. I don't expect such behavior from OLD PEOPLE.
I love Rocky Horror Picture Show. I love my fellow cast members. And I am always aware that I am 20 years older than the seasoned veterans. It really doesn't matter that I want to be part of the gang, I'm not. I've not really wanted to accept that. But it is what is so.
I am not part of the gang in any of my groups. I'm a bit of a curiosity and maybe a really good person to talk to or get advice from or to feel love from when one's friends are not loving. (Oh here is the sadness...almost...)
I have another story. I'm feeling like I am loved for what I provide. A conditional love that comes and goes as those in my life need what I can give or don't need it. I'm the neighborhood doctor who only sees my neighbors when they want something. And they love me THEN.
Damn. I teared up, but it went away again. I just flailed on myself for believing the story. Stoic again.
Okay. Hmmm. When did this story get started? When did I start feeling conditional love from my communities?
Well, Conditional love from Mom but not Dad. But there isn't any juice there. My sister "left" home when I was 11. She was my private superhero. We were never close after that. Although talking to her, our closeness had been mostly one sided. In my innocence, I thought all my feelings for her were mutual. They weren't. She was being a very, very unhappy teen who had little time for family and no time for mom.
That's not it, though. My family was conditional love for the most part. Love was given and withheld as a motivator. Not uncommon in that time. But the break in belonging at 11 is another story.
It was the end of friendships. A complete break. Friends and sweeties in Sunnyvale. A neighborhood of boys and girls who played together every day. And upsets and angers never lasted and love was present even when we squabbled. We played tag and hide-n-go seek and doctor. We were sexual, sensuous and mostly sweet with each other. They weren't just friends, they were part of my family.
Abruptly I'm in a new environment. The new kid on the block with odd ways and silly attitudes. The city boy who didn't ride horses or swim in the creek. The boy who wasn't interested in farming or hiking up the mountain. And the boy who was not going to be accepted UNTIL he had proven himself worthy.
My peer group was not to be trusted.
(I'm reciting this. The feeling has retreated again.)
Another approach...
What do I want and why do I want it? I want to be on people's first call list to hang out. Why? 'Cause then I'll know I'm loved.
Damn, what a story that one is! How much of that would be enough? How many times must someone else invite before I believe it? The answer to that, of course, is it would NEVER be enough.
And most people I know are more than willing to meet me half way or more. And here I sit waiting for them to cross the entire distance to prove they want my company. How utterly 13 of me.
I have just pushed the sadness off the stove top. Shit. It will come when it comes. It will wash over me and I will have space to create. Soon would be good.
I think I have a "request for coaching" with Tamara. I'm not getting there on my own very well.
no subject
Hmmmmm. I think you might want to look around at the odd group of people who make up that "gang". Fitting in is more a matter of being who you are. What is it that makes someone belong to that? I think if you objectivly applied the criteria, you'd find that you fit in just fine.