You Have to Kiss a Few Frogs

Well, come to find out, some of the "horrible" things that Erica said about me were that she could never date me because I look like a frog, and there was something about me having no chin - whatever.  With distance from our supposed friendship, it all just seems kind of juvenile.  The words don't bother me, its the fact that she said them that hurts, still, a little.  I have self-image issues, and I mention that on here quite frequently.  I confided that in a more in-depth and meaningful way to her.  She betrayed that confidence.  She bragged to her friends that I told her she was beautiful, and that I really loved her.  Both are true.  I told her she was beautiful, because she seemed to listen to me and have my best interest at heart.  I did love Erica.  But I didn't love Erica because she looked like some Vogue covergirl.  She didn't; it just didn't matter to me.  She seemed to be a good person.  She seemed to care.  She perceived my attention to be confusion that she was more superficially beautiful than she was.  To me, the beauty was in what I perceived as her lack of superficiality.  Erica thought my attention and admiration and love was an endorsement of her looks, when it was an endorsement of her.  Sadly, my confidence, love, and trust were grossly misplaced.  I wish nothing bad for Erica, but I can't say I'm hoping for much glorious luck and splendor to visit her either.  Its been about four months since we've been estranged as friends.  It was clear to me after a month that whatever it was that we had was over.  I have grieved the loss of the woman I perceived Erica to be and moved past it, and I am happy to be rid of the girl she actually proved to be.  We had some fun.  Hard knocks: 1; Hoffman: 0.

As I have put distance in time and emotional investment between myself and Erica and her minions, I've gone through several phases of processing the loss.  I was stuck.  I couldn't move or think or feel anything other than hurt.  Then, I started to build up momentum.  I had the gas, but lacked the direction.  I ended up spinning in circles for quite a while.  I damaged many good friendships.  I ran more than a few people out of my life who had never been anything but good to me.  Only a few have stuck by me.  Some consciously, and some just by always being there without question or specific knowledge of what was going on.  They just stayed.  I would be remiss if I did not single out and extole the inexhaustable friendship of my best friend of nearly 30 years (some of those years more nearly than others), Steve Jenkins.  He stuck by me when I tried to shut out everyone around me.  When I tried to actively push him away, he yanked me by the arm and pulled me in closer, as if to say, "Kid!  What the hell are you doing?!".  The whole Jenkins family have really been a blessing to me, and being welcomed to the table at their family reunion made me feel the same way the returned Prodigal Son from Jesus' parable must have felt at his celebrated return home.  I consider all of the Jenkins men to be brothers from another mother.  In that moment, and in the company of those wonderful brothers, I found the strength to channel the already realized momentum of my reclaimed individual identity.  Now, I had traction.

The final piece of the puzzle for this journey back to standing firmly on my own two feet was to find direction and purpose.  My dear and wonderful, amazing therapist, Kerry Richie, gave me a friend's lovingly swift kick in the ass that can only come from someone who truly does have your best interest at heart.  I am following her lead.  I am connecting more deeply with friends like Jack Radcliffe, Chris Heard, Phil Laubner, Jeff Rollinger, Doug Rhone, Pastor David Franklin, Jennifer Packard, and Colleen Lyons Dunnigan who seem to be worthy of the investment of my trust and confidence.  Knowing, too, that I enjoy the support and encouragement of the very special individual for whom this vehicle of thought and feeling is named, Vickie Diamond, is a continual source of strength and reassurance. 

The best of who I am is because of who I am, (toad)warts and all.  The reason I am able to continue to be that man is because of all of you - even Erica.  Love to all!

 "Brothers In Arms", Dire Straits.

Preface to an Epilogue

My social circle tends to break down at seven to ten year intervals.  Recently, that has happened again.  Every other time this has happened, it was always with the idea that a new circle of friends would emerge.  This time, it just seems final.

Kerry, my therapist, suggested I use this down time - ostensibly between close-at-hand, socially connective relationships - to imagine what the life I have wanted might feel like.  She told me to imagine what it would be like to have a girlfriend who was genuinely interested in me, and the man that I am, and the things that are important to me.  She told me to imagine spending time with some woman like this, who would want to earn the emotional investment that I have previously given up so freely to women who really didn't wish to reciprocate.  She told me to imagine what it would be like to have that person around in the next phase of my life.  She told me to do this in the hopes of producing a directed and focused intentionality, an exercise in "acting as if"; Vickie tried to get me to do the same thing when she and I worked together.  This is supposed to bring about some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. 

I tried.  When I try to imagine the next phase of my life, there's nothing there.  Now, before you go sounding the alarm bells and orchestrating an interventionary Chinese fire drill, hear me out.  I don't see my current chapter ending anytime soon, but I see things continuing as they are, in perpetuity.  I am trying to change things for the better.  I had scheduled two interesting and engaging social events for myself this weekend; both were cancelled by others for reasons beyond my control.  Sometimes, it feels like even God is saying, "up your's". 

I have self-image issues.  When struggling with dating, I had one really good friend tell me, "it can't be everybody else".  I've had one close female confidant who said  that, "maybe women just aren't attracted to you", and another who equated my appearance to being "gross".  Having already been down on myself, these statements made things worse.

So, it seems that trying to imagine some kind of future happiness is not working for me.  I can't even imagine wanting to be happy at all anymore.  It would be quite enough for me, at some point, to stop feeling sad.

"No Time", The Guess Who.