As a young kid, I was incomprehensibly afraid of The Incredible Hulk. The show starred a local hero, Lou Ferigno, who resided just outside of my hometown. For years, every time the show came on, I hid in fear. My father and brother took sadistic delight in tearing off their worn undershirts by flexing and growling, tearing the worn cotten into shreds while chasing me around the house. It threw me into panic attacks for years. Green giants hunted me in the night, ready to turn me into an abomination.
It was only recently, after a particurly intense energy session and a fortuitous watching of the remake of The Hulk (I do love me some Edward Norton), that I seemed to put a bunch of stuff togehter.
The basic premise of The Hulk is that he has all this stuff inside of him that, literally, is too big.
The basic premise of how my parents treated me as a kid is that I had all this stuff inside of me that was too big, too much, and couldn't be handled. Thus, mytemper tantrums. Thus my temper tantrums being subdued with a wooden spoon, a turn in the shower with a freezing cold spray, a hearty spanking or a faked heart attack. No one thinks at the time that they're abusing their child, but who pays for the therapy?
In many way, lately, I've felt like GoodBuddy felt the same way about me. He wasn't interested or couldn't hear what I had to say - he was just going to tell me the what's what. Because taking in my side of things was really just too much. Too big. Too intense. I honestly don't think that was his intention, but that was the result I walked away with. It's the difference between what is said and what is heard.
GB told me that I don't get to get upset at anything he says because I should know he unconditionally loves me. My response was to point out that when I mock his mumbling (he oftentimes speaks too quickly or too near/far from his cellphone and is unintelligable) he gets pissed. Wicked pissed. His mother used to mock him that way and it triggers his anger. So - HELLO - Mr Pot, please meet Ms Kettle. We all react to people in our lives the way we've been conditioned to from childhood. When he disregarded my feelings - valid or not - I flashed right back to being chased by an older brother embodying The Hulk or a father who wouldn't listen to my pleas as he grabbed the wooden spoon from th kitchen drawer. And, that, my dear readers, is some powerful recall.
As you can tell, I've been doing a lot of thinking about this. Thinking that maybe it was time for me - GB and I - to redefine our parts in one anothers' life. If I am trying to heal, to get centered, to become comfortable with who I am, does it make sense for me to be expending all this energy, all this love, on someone who can't seem to allow the reality of who I am to evolve...?
Tonight, I was leaving him a VM. It was nothing really. Watching a movie. Going to bed soon. Had a good day, hope you did too." In the midst of it, he beeped in. Somehow (technologically ignorant as I am) I managed to switch over.
"Just leaving you a message."
"I saw. Can we can call it a night?"
"Um, yea. Sure. Everything OK?"
"Yeah. I was getting some texts from someone and they really pissed me off and I'm raging and I don't wan't - should't - take this out on you. Cuz I'm fuckin angry and frustrated and I really don't want you to get caught up in that. And even if we try to talk normal, I'll bring it out on you. So, can we talk tomorrow or something?"
Wow. How decent. Seriously. How thoughtful and kind. Just when I really wanted to tell him to take along walk off a short pier, he reminds me of one of the reasons I love him. Of course, he spent a bunch of time in the water today and that probably helped a lot. But I'm wicked glad to see shadows of Dr. Jekyll in lieu of Mr. Hyde.
So, as many conclusions as I come to, alone in my bed on a Saturday night, maybe, just maybe, I shouldn't take any definitive action. Because our past isn't always our present, and definitely doesn't have to be our future. Maybe things - people - evolve.
Sweet dreams, good buddy. I'll think good thoughts.