If beating oneself up were an Olympic sport…I would be the undisputed gold medal winner of all time. Not even the greatest guilt mongers amongst the world’s Catholics and Jews would be able to hold a candle to me when I really get into a shame/guilt spiral. I may call the OIC and see if we can work something out for a special Guilt Marathon or a Shame Relay.
Saturday night, David and I went to a party at our friend Brian’s pad. We had had a bit of a loopy day, as David didn’t sleep well…which is not a good thing…and a full moon was fast approaching. By that evening, we had managed to put the lunacy to rest, and we headed down to Chelsea.
It was Brian’s 32nd birthday party, and it was a smash. And then I got smashed. It was fun at first…there was a super hot Asian guy there…that I just knew David would love, so I totally started flirting with him…and then brought him over to meet David. Seems as if they hit it off. David and I were in a queer space, both of us were flirting wildly and sharing that with one another, and we had a great time.
Unfortunately, I don’t always know when to end the party and go home.
As the fiesta wound down, Brian made a suggestion that we head to Mr. Blacks. It was 2am, and David was beat, but I was tipsy and wanted to go out. David gave his blessing, and off I went.
I remember entering the club. I remember meeting the Argentines, and then I remember waking up in the Argentines fantastic apartment off Madison Avenue. I was still drunk, and it was 9am.
I jumped up and sprinted out lookin’ for the train home. Two trains and a half an hour later, I made it in the house. David was still in bed. I told him about the remainder of my night, and then I crashed out.
I woke up to find my man off on a bike ride, and I felt the shame mantle settle in.
If our positions were reversed and David had not come home all night, there would have been bloodshed. David, though, being David was disappointed but there was no drama. I suspected that he realized that I would do enough beating o myself up for the both of us. And I have…for 48 hours, been smashing myself around.
David is the best damn thing that has ever happened to me in this world. And the fact that I caused him obvious disappointment and hurt was a little bit more than I could handle. In the past, I would have laughed it off, swept it under the rug, or gotten defensive. This time, I found myself whirling down into a shame spiral that was pretty much out of control.
I have a very bad habit of waiting until things in my life are going extremely well and then figuring out a way to fuck it up. I started a kick ass new job last week. We are going to see my family in Minnesota this week. And, in general, I am the most happy I have ever been. Figures I would do something really stupid in an attempt to self-sabotage.
David told me yesterday, and again today, that we need to give ourselves the space to be human and make mistakes. I have always been fine when the mistakes end up impacting my life and leaving the people I love untouched. It’s when I do things that impact the people I care for in a way that I never intended that I find myself without the tools to combat the feelings that well up. Also, making a mistake and then throwing a pity party for oneself is not necessarily the path towards personal growth.
I have made drastic and significant changes in my life. In many ways I am allowing myself to feel and experience what I would run away from in the past. Today was the first time in a spell that made me want to run away and hide. But you can’t hide from yourself. You may fool yourself now and again. You may hide the truth from yourself…but you can’t sustain any of that for long…and running away from it means only that you give it power to grow and warp until facing it becomes a Herculean effort instead of the simple task of looking in the mirror and saying, “I forgive you.”