Last night, I had a three hour conversation with a lovely old friend. The last hour consisted of his “arm-chair” psychiatry.
He described me as living in a tightly wound cocoon, surrounded by huge, self-erected walls. Yes.
Cocoons are made of silk threads. Silk threads when en masse are extremely strong and my cocoon has had several years to form. My walls are equally as strong and are impenetrable.
He said I should break out of that cocoon, spread my wings and become the beautiful butterfly that I can be. (He sounds like my cyber-husband, who writes poetry about his broken butterflies.)
He knows about my life. He has suffered great loss and is himself, trying to crawl out of the throws of depression. He understands when I laugh and say “I will tell you the same thing I told Sam and Pepper and several others…you will NEVER break through those walls.”
He understands that when I say that, I am not challenging him nor am I boasting. He says it is a protective shield and he knows that I find comfort within my cocoon and those walls but that I need to find comfort somewhere else.
Just because I am alone (or on the road away from home) doesn’t mean that I am one to run to the comfort of just anybodys’ arms that I can pick up. I’m not one who is willing to pay for the comfort of companionship. I’m not one to fall for the comfort of shallow flattery…which prompts my sarcastic sense of humor to come out for the next part of the conversation.
“You’re a very good-looking woman.”
(You’re obviously drunk.)
“You are very intelligent.”
(How you reckin’ that happened..seeing as how I’s a uneducated hillbilly?)
“You have means.”
(Well, then all I need is a house and a ways and I’ll have a committee.)
He suggested that I smoke pot, so that I can experience the “joy of food and maybe gain some weight.”
(Puh-lease! Eating is a fucking drag! And, if I have to cook…for-fucking-get it!)
He said I needed to learn how to enjoy a drink so I could “loosen up.”
(I’ve had a drink and got loose enough to throw up all over Losers’ car. Yay! I have to say that it made me smile to think that WTC was going to unknowingly, sit in my puke.)
He said I needed to have a relationship and went on to describe several options.
(Okay. In answer to those options…I’m not going to be anybodys’ “fuck-buddy.” I’m not going to be anybodys’ “casual sex” partner. I’m not going to be anybodys’ “back-door girlfriend” and I am certainly not going to be what Loser wanted me to be, which was “a back-door wife.”)
There are always going to be expectations in any relationship. If I cited my expectations for one, I imagine I would get the same frustrated response I always got from my children when I talked of friendships and marriage…”mom, your expectations are too high.”
So, I imagine I will continue to live in my cocoon…inside my thick walls. I’ve learned so many valuable lessons about trust and honor and fidelity. I unhesitatingly offer honor and fidelity but two things I will never offer again are…..commitment and trust.