Back on the book, and I begin to wonder if Ian would give me the same advice. I probably wouldn't be in Maggie's position, astride him on the floor, falling into his neck to get a sweet scent.

Perhaps, I was not qualified to know what it meant to fel a certain way. Had I not recovered from the trauma? This is a question I am asking, and maybe it is for the best. But in most moments, I cannot see how that is true. I also cannot accept that it might be true. That's kind of the argument I felt while reading the book. The argument in myself. My reflections are echoes. I'm not sure what I mean there, but it sounded grand and poetic, so we'll go with it.

It's something I've struggle with, and it's something that others, apparently, struggle with too. I begin to question my mind; the insistence on keeping a certain person at the forefront is not where I would see myself. I have thought more on this "crazy in love" statement. I thought I wouldn't be, and then I was. I thought I was over that, but I'm pulled right back in, as if the gravity of the pull cannot allow me to escape.

I am very cautious when thinking out loud these days. I want to tread lightly, and I don't want to make any statements that are taken as fact. I am simply expressing thoughts, and those thoughts want to come out. I hold them back. I understand my words can be interpreted in ways that I did not intend. I also recognize that some of my words and actions look a lot like the words and actions of negative-type behaviors and actions. The label, then fitting everything under the label, is inherently dangerous, in my opinion. Open to listen and change my opinion with new information. I didn't felt less than in the relationship. I didn't get a thought that I wasn't enough until I was told that. It warped my mind into a defensive mode, a reflective mode, and into a conflicted mode. Maybe, I am a little more qualified today. I got the thought that the other person is going through something and I don't know what to do. I was still secure in the relationship and even thought it was a joke-able topic. I made a couple jokes about it, and I can see how it may have been my protective tactic. I thought that I could laugh it away because this person wasn't actually attacking me. They were dealing with an internal struggle. It didn't come out in the best way, but they were hurting and struggling. I would have said that I didn't cause that. I can definitely say that I didn't handle with the care and caution it needed. That is squarely on my lack of understanding and knowledge about the different ways to be with others. The different skills one could use to navigate the difficulties of a relationship.

I also am thinking something about friends. There are certain folks who will keep me stuck with them. There are certain folks who have their own issues, their own baggage, their own whatever-it-can-be-called that lingers in the background. I try to step back and ask why they would say that. I can step back and see that my emotional retelling of the highlight real of painful moments didn't give the full picture. That person does not know the inner workings. I am vulnerable and weak in that moment. I am influenceable. I am impressionable and willing to listen to anyone who would validate my experience and tell me that it was not my fault. I want to be seen and heard. I want someone to care for me because I hadn't felt cared for in that way. I want these things, and I feel desperate to get those things. I was desperate. I was desperate to connect again, and the friend was a decent second place since I couldn't get it from the one who took the first place. If that friend listened and told me I wasn't crazy, then I found myself impressionable enough that their words made sense, their conclusions made sense, it was like I couldn't see it, and they were helping me see it. I thanked them for caring. I felt cared for. I felt those things because they really seemed to care. I kind of step back today and realize that those folks weren't giving very good advice at all. I know they meant well, and they were trying to help. I desperately needed to connect and feel seen so bad that I allowed them to paint on my picture and tell me what it was. I didn't take their advice and question it. I didn't take an objective view at all. It was my emotional immaturity just hashing itself back out. The love that I so craved was being given to me in large doses. the validation that I had not felt in a while, the memories of which were clouded an invisible.

I'll use an analogy here (it could also be a metaphor). When I looked out during the sunshiney days, I see a mountain extending thousands of meters into the sky. When there were clouds, I looked and I couldn't see the mountain. The illusion is so incredible that the mind definitely tells me there is no mountain. In that moment, the vulnerable cloudy moment, I might believe someone who says I should turn and go the other way. There is nothing there but clouds, and I look and there's only clouds, in that moment, the mind doesn't remember the mountain and its majestic beauty. The eyes see clouds, rain, cold, dark, the people say clouds are bad, the mountain has been lost to the instant moment; the blink-of-an-eye moment takes over all the future and all the past is shaded. The rainy cold day tells me I should go to a warmer sunshinier place. The person may convince me in that moment that this isn't worth it at all, and with all that I can see, they become right. Then my decision is to leave this rainy, cloudy scene, and I am cheered on for going some place better, being strong enough to get away from the rain. It takes strength to leave, right? All I see is clouds, and it logically makes sense to leave as well. So the we leave. It's only a couple days later that the sun shines again, and the grand majestic mountain is back in sight, but I have already left the scene. I say, "yeah, there might be a mountain, but what about all those clouds??" I don't ever want to see clouds again; I can find another mountain that doesn't have clouds. There were also those who begged me to stay and wait for the clouds to pass. They could not tell me that the clouds wouldn't come back, and I never want clouds, I only want to see the mountain. This cloud shrouded mountain is not the one for me. They tell me that is dumb, and I get offended that they aren't listening to how I feel about clouds. I go on to explain to folks that there was so much rain and lighting and thunder, and the people tell me to come back to where they are, the place that felt familiar from childhood. The cloudy sky was new for me, and the beauty of the mountain wore off. The clouds were here now and I didn't see much value in this mountain any longer.

This metaphor (after writing it feels like a metaphor rather than analogy lol) teaches me something about complacency, not appreciating the beauty that still exists, even when I can't see it for the clouds. There were some not so nice moments. I lived it and definitely know. I am going to make a statement here, a theory perhaps, that it wasn't the weather, it wasn't the clouds. It was the clothes. It was how I prepared myself to weather the storm. With the right clothes, I could climb the mountain in the rain and cold, I could get to the top and appreciate all that the mountain offers. The mountain didn't become a bad thing, but I couldn't see the mountain, and I conflated it for the clouds. I could only see and feel the cold rain, the grey clouds. I felt like waiting wasn't making any progress. I wasn't actively moving toward sunshine and a clear view of the mountain, because no effort on my part could make the clouds go away. I did the only thing I could do, get away from the clouds. It didn't feel like progress to just get better clothes. In the metaphor, getting new clothes was not making progress. It was seen as acceptance of clouds. Those people encouraging me to get away from the clouds would criticize me if I stayed and just got better clothes. They would tell me that isn't growth. They would tell me that I'm keeping myself stuck in the rain. They convinced me that the rain wouldn't go away. They convinced me I would be struck by lightning. They convinced me that the thunder was too much and too close to the lightning.

I wonder if that person just wanted me to come be with them. I wonder if that person wants company wherever they are. I wonder if that person has my best interest in mind, or their own self-interest. I am certain they want the best for me, but I am also beginning to wonder if the "best for me" they advocate is rather just a best for them that I was playing a part in. The person can feel good that they are helping me. I feel seen and heard. I wonder if all those things are true at the same time. I also can development a discernment to determine if they actually have my best interest in mind. Their advice is for me to leave the mountain that I have loved for these few years. Their advice has me joining them on their path and abandoning my previous five year plan.

This is what I wonder today. Metaphor is turned off now, back on some thinking about it. I find it fascinating to think about people's agendas. Why are they telling me this? How does this serve them? How does it serve me? Is there another way? Is it so black and white? Where're the shades of gray? Why is there no color? Where's the rainbow that I once enjoyed? Where's my mountain?

Back to where this all started, am I qualified to know? Another important question I have for people who espouse labeling behaviors as toxic and abusive, are they qualified to know? I'm sure that once I am broken enough, I will just listen because listening to them gives a reason and purpose for me to move on. It gives me something that can be supported, and then I can repeat that narrative and find support from others. I can explain how this person helped me see how I was being abused. That allows for more support on support. It's not very fair to myself. It's not fair to the person who was labeled. They didn't see it that way at all. They weren't actually being abusive, they were scared, not manipulative. They were reacting from a wound, not being abusive. I want to lay down my weapons and stop what looks like a terribly unfair reframe. As thought previously, talking about it in a certain frame reinforces that frame. And I don't want to see my love in an unfairly-imposed negative light. I understand better now. I cannot save people who do not think they are in need of saving. If I impose a "save" on them, I am not being considerate.

I feel it is an incorrect correlation between Maggie not having a desire to get over her fear of flying, and Chip imposing his desire for her to not have that fear. It would be much, much closer to the truth if Maggie expressed a deep desire to get over her fear of flying, then Chip took her in the plane to help her after being asked by Maggie to help her get over that fear. We're getting a little closer if the crash happened after Maggie asking for help to overcome the fear of flying, and then she blamed Chip for pushing her too hard to fly. Chip would understandably feel confused. He might say, "but you asked for my help, why are you so mad at me for trying to help." Maggie might be upset in that moment because her future was ripped away from her, and it certainly was Chip flying that plane. Then Chip might apologize so profusely for going to fast with the help. He might feel like he could have started smaller, like there was some other way to make this work. Maggie might say that she never wanted it in the first place, she only told him she wanted it because she thought he wanted it. Chip is confused again because he wonders how he could know what she wanted when the truth was only known in Maggie's head, and all of her outward expressions would say she did want that. Maggie's friend might try to convince her that Chip didn't love her, he only had his own agenda, he wanted to change her. The proof would be that Chip has admitted several times that he would love for her to change and would help her in the change. Chip's words are misunderstood. Chip didn't want Maggie to change, he only wanted to help her because she asked for his help and encouraged him to help.

That little rewrite feels closer to a different kind of story. That feels closer to how two people can interact with each other and go beyond what the other wants because of miscommunication.

This has not been edited, revised, or reworded in any way. These are the rough first thoughts. I think they are incomplete and that conclusions cannot be drawn from this writing. It is only the place to begin a discussion. It is not the monologue that doesn't accept change. This is the first step toward understanding. The first step is getting a sense of how the mind might think in that moment. The observer needs to come back and do some observation to get the conclusions that can be gotten, if any. Sometimes the thoughts and feelings are divorced from where the observer might conclude. The observer comes back into the room like, "whoa whoa, what the fuck, feelings and thoughts?! What are you doing, that's not appropriate, why did you put that out there? I let you take the controls while I went to the bathroom, and now I've got to clean up your mess. Go sit over there until I'm ready to talk about this with you."

Each thought and feeling gets a turn on the keyboard. That's the validation I give myself. I let those thoughts and feelings have their time because they are not wrong for being themselves. They are just thoughts and feelings. They are just innocent, and they have value because of the flavor and nuance they bring to life. That's why I let them use the keyboard occasionally. They are not the best writers. That's why I have to come back and review what they've written during their time. I even hang their pictures on the fridge with pride, allowing them to post without holding them back or admonishing them for anything they might write. They are allowed to feel, allowed to think, no filters, no criticism, no invalidation. They are safe to express themselves here. I give them a safe space to use however they would like to. I don't like that I would censor them because I am afraid of how others might react to the thoughts and feelings. This fear has led me not allowing the thoughts and feelings. Telling them to go away, and they can't use the keyboard because they always fuck it up.

The use of absolutes when talking about my thoughts and feelings (or others') is unwarranted and untrue. It is a remnant from the language I use. It is a byproduct of the passion and grand delusion. I'm trying to temper the always and never. It is never always and it is never never. And I find it just hilarious to use the absolutes when talking about absolutes, and the meta on meta discussion is just abstract enough that it always leaves me with a smile of known self hypocrisy.

That made me laugh to write. Condemning the absolutes with the use of absolutes and talk of talk's talk is something so ridiculous that all the analysis collapses upon itself. I'm gonna go see the people. New people...