masochist. masochism.masochistic.
i cant deny this is who i am. no matter how i say it, or how many times-i cant ignore the facts. the evidence. the history. the events.occurances.times.words.thoughts.dreams.moves.actions.results or most especially the repercussions.
what makes a masochist?
mas·och·ism (m
s
-k
z
m)
s-kzm)n.
1. The deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from being humiliated or mistreated, either by another or by oneself.
2. A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.
to simply it: you purposely hurt yourself emotionally. you try yourself.
i do this. by no purpose or not with intent. i just simply do.
a person, an event that took place one long time ago in my life resurfaced most recently. this person, this event was life altering, shattering even. the intricacy of our relationship would baffle even the most consorting minds. i feel in a perfect world, i could quite possibly sell this grueling, heartache harrowing tale for a handsome, lucrative book deal. hell, it'd be a mini series.
dont assess me as over exaggerator. our tale is heartache. its drawn out, emotionally exhausting-worthy of the words i attribute it. with the utmost discretion i elaborate:
this person came into my life at a time of uncertainty, a time when i grasped new experiences and made the most of every moment. this person made what felt like, at the time, the briefest of appearances in my life. this brief appearance did however leave an assortment of footprints, so to speak, on my life. footprints to feel day in and day out for the rest of said life.
this person disappointed me. left me in a time of absolute, mind altering inconvenience. a time of unexpected strength on my part. a time of letting go and welcoming independence with open arms and a seemingly open heart.
i forgave. when everyone said i shouldnt.couldnt. when i said i wouldnt. when i said i hated this persons very being. when i cried myself to sleep more times than i would ever tell them i did. i forgave. i forgave for the reasons i hated, the reasons i loathed. but i found some time of beauty in this person. this persons heart-although sometimes lacking was large and strong.
by no means were their actions not addressed and scorned. they knew their wrongdoings and regardless or our times passed, i want to believe in this persons true self. but before long this person and i began the most self destructive pattern-thus commenced my downward spiral into masochism. each event, each day, each night that this pattern continued i felt the thrill of the most certain repercussionary pain. it fed an appetite id never understood before, or do to this day, for that matter. it was like clockwork, as consistent as gravity.
this person once again hurt the very core of my being. they did this in the quest for their own happiness-something, no matter how hard i tried to deny, was something they deserved as much as anyone else. i tried to hate. instead i continued an arrogant, irresponsible and irrational pattern with this person in the most inappropriate of times. mutual pain your assuming? not in the least. this person remained in tact as i slowly fell apart, falling to my own meandering demise. they never noticed the severity of their actions-on all accounts. every action that led to the accumulation on my most recent experiences and all this harboured anger and confusion.
i never intervened into my own masochism by getting emotionally naked and exposing my very soul to this person thus possibly preventing this aching dreadful pattern. they may believe they had viewed all of me in my simplest of forms but they have never come close to the heart of the emotions that run rampant through my everlastingly resentful soul. they knew nothing then, they know nothing now.
in the most recent of cases, after a quiet, much needed hiatus this person waltzed back into my life with no notice or even tempered emotion, on either of our parts. i liked to, at the time, believe this meeting of not so forgetful or lesson learned minds was merely a mishap, a temporary lapse of judgement. 'at the time' ended today when it hit me that the pattern that i felt i tore apart with strength, clarity and self respect was now sewn back together into a nightmare like, accumulated yet time contingent pattern. it hit me like a mack truck that what had transpired was just what i have learnt and what i should have by now conceived as an act of self hate. it had to be. it had to be when after i thought of this person i concaved into a shell of my former self, into a hollow human shell of pity and anger. ask me tomorrow and i still couldnt tell you if this anger was from the pattern or the past-either way it sat dormat for so long it developed roots. roots that even in the happiest of times, the most awe inspiring, detached moments, resurfaced.
roots meet resurface, resurface meet friday.
friday was when i truly saw my masochism for what it was. a continual pattern, much like the one this person and i had established for ourselves. i hurt myself. i hurt myself with this person. what hurts most? that this person doesnt hurt for me. almost as if they never did, regardless of endless assurance of pain and suffering, guilt, compassion they claimed so whole heartedly they had. i felt the pain. the scars apparent as the shiniest star in the clearest of nights. i had so much faith and belief, not to mention passion and respect for this person. wether they never saw it or just didnt want to. it existed. it was the elephant in the room in my hazel, almond shaped, god given eyes. i continued to hurt.
its safe to say i hold a place in this persons life through no fault of my own or theirs. circumstances. its what makes every occurance in life is it not? they were my circumstance. i dont even know what i was to them. or what i am now for that matter. the spectrum of experiences with this person ranges from uncomfortable conversations, drunken heartfelt ranblings, angry resentment, passionate encounters to the most mere, unacknowledgable silence. why am i not their masochistic kryptonite, as they are mine. why am i not what they feel the need to write a seemingly endless, yet disturbingly truthful blog about. we all have that person it seems. that person who holds the key to our weaknesses. that person that could break you with just one look. i pretend i dont know this person. i pretend he is a stranger. but pretend is pretend. truth is truth and truth be told, i know him in ways i dont even believe he knows himself. i felt faith in him in times i truly think he felt no faith in himself. in him i see wonder and compassion. if he has yet to determine this i feel a sense of disappointment in myself, as he never truly understood the emotions i tried to invoke upon him and for that i die a little bit inside.
so here i am. naked in emotion. whole in regret. consumed in confusion. overloaded in hurt. reminded of the past and dreadingly the future. fulfilled in masochism. masochism so strong i can feel it from the tips of my fingers to the bottom of my jelly belly bean sized baby toe. my mind races on responses to this event. i decide, decline, direct emotions. i cant seem to determine what it is i need from him, or this situation-wether that situation even exists in reality. i disappoint myself. i feel this. and we come full circle once again. feeling the most numbing of feelings. i want to fully forgive myself and him for the place i see myself in from time to time but until these feelings and emotions, thoughts and wishes fall upon his blissfully ignorant ears, i wait here. me and my masochism. like a best friend i cant seem to evade or escape. like the feelings i push below the surface of who i am. like the story book worthy reverse fairytale that our lives are. me and my masochism.
until next time...
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