Journal entry, 7/12/91 I get another postcard from Oleg, he’s getting the publicity and the attention he craves, the importance of man, with a capital M. And no females need apply. I enjoy his wit, perhaps I can enjoy more later. The break was necessary. I am not missing the relationship as much as I thought I would.
I’m troubled by E. I see so much wrong, and I can’t save myself, let alone, the others. I’m not in the revival ministry of broken hearts and codependency. What I need is a healthy relationship, no 40-year-old puere stuck at age 16, though brilliant, addictive, and not self-motivated, drifting through life. It’s so intense an experience to really see and to not be fully cognizant is an oxymoron. He reminds me of an admixture of past boyfriends—so achingly familiar and dead wrong. I know why he lets K sleep in, it’s his only solitude. She is incredibly gracious, has all the hostess motions down pat, but it’s a carefully reconstructed world. Nina says she was an abused child and it fits. Developmentally, it’s as if she was arrested at the level of an adolescent child.
Codependency requires that each partner maintain the net of illusion for the other. The ultimate addiction. Persuasive, and evasive, it requires a tremendous amount of upkeep to maintain the illusion.
I am troubled by a dream, I’m with Oleg and we’re in a tall building, perhaps a school, and what seems to be admiring students surrounding us. It’s a reception of sorts. Igor Zabudski is there, perhaps in New York and he wants to thank me personally for getting him the Mac. I know nothing about it, and I don’t want to meet him. I don’t very much like him, but Oleg shoves me into a room and Igor is literally shaking my hand, thanking me for all that I’ve done. Wet, clammy hands. Not until I’m awake, do I realize he was standing, no longer bound to his wheelchair. A dream miracle.
I remember another image about a young blonde girl in red. We interact but I don’t know the context, and I can’t remember the details. I wake up too early, and can’t get back to sleep. The volcano is beckoning.
On the eve of the eclipse, I fell asleep too early. Marilyn was sitting on the edge of the bed, and I swear a presence, tall and green, came through the door. oh great, what ghost is this? I screamed, having no clue or warning. Maybe it was the food or stress. I’d had a lousy dinner at Hugo’s and was terribly annoyed with Marilyn for hurrying me through the city of refuge so she could prepare for a night on the town with Eddie and Kim—which was moved up from 5 PM to 4 PM, so I only got 30 minutes snorkel time in before she wanted to go home.
We were going to go downtown and shop too, but she managed to fritter away 2 1/2 hours getting ready, and for what? Too many times I’ve been waiting for her while she meticulously groom herself, and we don’t accomplish what we set out to do—due to a lack of time. I get frustrated but that’s not the answer.
As Luis Kong said, we need to set limits, in this case time, just like with Oleg, and adhere to them. Otherwise I become equally codependent. Slowly I’m learning, my friends, my family my loved ones, are my teachers. I feel I have a heightened understanding of those processes I’ve been blind to all my life. Whether or not I can progress is the real issue as recognition is only half the battle of self-awareness. Or should I articulate, self-actualization.
There’s much I don’t like about others; it must be something I dislike within myself as well. With John, I came apart, and when I put myself back together., I kept some of the old pieces, but they didn’t fit well into the new puzzle and I didn’t know what to keep, or what to discard. It was almost as if I got dressed in the dark with no regard to the order of clothing, or direction.
Today my nightgown is on inside out. I put it on in the dark. It is equally functional either way, it is still a nightgown, but inside out, it suggests a lack of social awareness or control. Exteriors, how others view us. I feel out of sorts, so much controls us. Reined in. When boundaries are crossed, threatened, or removed, we are out of control, and that is a dangerous sensation of course, and it also suggested artificial control that doesn’t emanate from within the core. A shaky foundation, a false structure, something to be examined closely.
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