Les gens que j’attire

Les gens que j’attire présentement ne sont pas nécessairement comme les gens que j’attirais avant.

Avant, j’attirais les gars non disponibles.J’ai aussi attiré les vieux pets et les grands ténébreux.

En amitié, j’attirais personne, je pense. Probablement parce que je ne voulais pas d’amiEs, les amIs m’intéressaient. Mais, les gars qui se disaient mes amis finissaient toujours par me faire des avances. Non disponibles, c’était pas sérieux.

En ce moment, je ne sais pas qui j’attire comme gars, mais je sais que j’ai choisi mon chum peu importe les abeilles qui essayaient de me butiner (les non disponibles et les vieux pets). Et je ne remarque pas vraiment si j’attire d’autres gars. Eh que c’est relaxant avoir un chum. Pas de questions à se poser sur les autres gars.

En amitié, j’attire les chiâleux, les gens intenses et dramatiques, les gens qui ont besoin d’aide. Les piteux pitous. En général, ils sont soit des rejets ou ils font d’eux-mêmes des rejets. Ils manquent d’estime, sont dépendants, ont des sautes d’humeurs…

Étrangement, avant, les piteux pitous m’attiraient mais ils me rebutent maintenant. Mais, pour ce post, je vais rester avec ceux que j’attire.

Moi aussi j’ai été un piteux pitou. J’ai attiré des sauveurs aussi pendant cette période-là. C’est ça, ça dépend des périodes.

En ce moment, je suis indépendante, je dis ce que je pense, je sais ce que je veux, j’aime passer du temps seule alors j’attire les gens faciles à intimider, à manipuler. Le genre de personne tellement transparente que ça prend une ou deux rencontres et je sais sur quels pitons peser pour qu’elles doutent d’elles-mêmes et qu’elles freakent. C’est pour ça que je ne le fais pas. Mais, je me tanne tellement de faire attention que ça me donne le goût…

C’est le genre de personne qui est susceptible aussi. Il suffit de niaiser pour que ça soit pris au sérieux. Qui calque son comportement ou son humeur sur ma propre humeur. Même si mon humeur ne dépend pas de la personne. Je me ramasse donc avec quelqu’un qui soit force la bonne humeur, soit se tasse et boude quand je suis de mauvaise humeur.

J’attire les victimes. C’est jamais de leur faute, personne les aime, sont sûrs que leur boss aime mieux quelqu’un d’autre et ils passent leur temps à chiâler sur leur famille, leur job, les transports en commun, leur varices, les punaises de lit…et awoye que ça rumine encore et encore. Elles aiment ça, les victimes, rappeler comment elles sont malchanceuses.

Ce sont aussi des champions du déni. Même si c’est écrit gros de même que le gars l’aime pas et ne l’a jamais aimée, elle fonce dans le mur et s’obstine à brailler pour ce que le gars a fait. Si seulement elle ouvrait les yeux, si seulement elle lisait « He’s Just Not That Into You ». Mais, non.

En plus, ce sont des gens qui adorent les drames. Étire la sauce, remets-en, ça finit pus. Tout est compliqué, tout est une source de questionnement, de crises de larmes. L’amie que j’ai flushé ne se rendait pas compte que presque tous ses amis étaient ses ex, que chaque fois qu’elle décidait d’arrêter de parler à un, un autre à qui elle avait arrêté de parler auparavant refaisait surface. Parce qu’elle l’avait appelé. Ex= drames, malentendus, vieilles histoires pas réglées.

Mais, pour l’amie qui est dramatique mais qui ne vit pas dans le drame, ça va.

C’est pas pour rien que je manque d’énergie après peu de temps passé avec eux. Avant, je les trouvais amusants, entertaining. Maintenant, je les trouve immatures émotionnellement, épuisants, plattes et je leur souhaite un bon thérapeute !

Je vis dans The Matrix

19 septembre 2007

Does it happen to you that you feel like most people live in an illusion, concentrating on material things, never really living true emotions or talking about real stuff; never asking themselves questions about the world, their Self or taking hold of their spiritual environment ?

I feel like I live in the Matrix, surrounded by people who live like this. And I feel like everything is an illusion and will not last for ever. The sun is shining now. But it may not be shining tomorrow.

I know that we are conceived a blank slate, fresh and pure, full of possibilities. When we are born we are already on a journey influenced by what happened while we were growing inside the womb and we already have the possibility to become good or evil. I can’t just be bubbly. I sense and see and feel what surrounds me. I can’t be in denial thinking nothing is ever going to happen to me, I know what is out there. There is a Power greater than us but there is not just A Power there is more.

Denying this is what gets me in trouble with myself and denying what I feel in general is what gets me in trouble with myself and others. Usually I just shut up. I won’t anymore.

Surprise

11 mai 2007

Comme quoi la vie réserve des surprise. Alors que mes soeurs n’ont toujours pas répondu, mes parents ont répondu de la France.

Bonjour,
Nous venons de recevoir ton message et nous sommes contents que les choses soient dites sur la facon dont tu ressens les choses.
Nous ne sommes malheureusement pas tres organises pour te repondre longuement car nous sommes dans le hall d’ un hotel.
Nous en discuterons si tu veux bien, a notre retour.
Nous t’embrassons tres fort,

A bientot, Maman et P. XXXXXXXX

Bien sûr, je suis soulagée par cette réponse. Je me sens moins abandonnée. Après tout, ça fait des semaines que je me sens en peine d’amour. Parce que c’est ce que c’est, une peine d’amour, je fais le deuil de ma famille. Plus rien ne sera jamais comme avant.

Ça faisais depuis le mois d’octobre que je n’avais pas parlé à Ma Soeur. J’attendais qu’elle réalise qu’il se passe « quelque chose ». Rien. Jusqu’à ce qu’elle me dise que je peux aller chez ma marraine à la Fête des mères puisqu’elle ne sera pas là. Soit elle n’est pas très perspicace, soit elle ne veut rien savoir. Je penche pour la deuxième option.

C’est bien plus facile de faire semblant de rien. Glou-glou-glou. Let’s go, on planifie des Garden Partys, on s’achète des p’tits souliers, on peinture la maison, on mange des crevettes, la vie va être plus belle. Y’en aura pas de problèmes si on mange du steak à 13$.

Frrrrr.

Cauchemar de la mort

En Québécois, ça rime : cauchemar de la mort.

Hier, même quand mon chum est rentré et s’est couché, je ne me suis pas réveillée. Mais, à 12h10, je me suis réveillée en sursaut, j’avais tappé mon chum, mon ceur battait fort et vite, j’avais chaud et je voulais pleurer.

J’ai tappé mon chum au moment où il mettait son bras sur moi. Dans mon rêve, je pleurais et j’ai senti quelqu’un essayer de m’étrangler.

J’ai rêvé que je parlais à des policiers (un homme et une femme) qui essayaient de me faire parler de mon ancien coloc. Je ne me rappelle plus de ce qui s’est passé avant les policiers mais je me rappelle qu’il était là. Je l’ai vu. Je n’ai presque jamais rêvé de lui.

Dans mon rêve, j’avais peur de lui. Je disais, entre autres, qu’il avait été un ami.

On dirait bien que je passe encore à travers de ça. La trahison, le déni, la peur.

Dépression majeure

Décembre 1999

After learning big bad info on my family, I went into denial, then my body somatized and then I went into depression. My boyfriend dumped me in December. I was already researching my illness because my meds were not working very good and I changed my doctor and my meds.

I lost 50lbs and became the thin me I was when I was 20 years-old, the awckward me I was. It took me months to recover me with my meds, years to recover from the breakup.

I felt abandoned, even worse, stabbed to death, betrayed. We were together for three years and a half, he told me he loved me everyday and wanted to marry me which was the reason I hanged in there. He was leaving me when I needed him most.

I was dependent of him, I couldn’t live alone, I was afraid of what would happen if I was alone and depressed. I was sad all the time, tired, and ate mostly soups and crackers at dinner time. The rest of the day I was too depressed to eat, I felt like water was crushing me and I couldn’t swim anymore, I had survived all these years and now, I was drowning…

Mai 1995 : Histoire d’amour ordinaire

In everybody’s life there is this moment where we could have said something but didn’t.

I had a whole relationship like this. I don’t even know if it was a relationship because nothing was ever said.

I was 20 when we met. His name is Martin and he was the friend of one my roommates. I had three male roommates : Nicolas, David and Alexandre. Stéphanie also lived with us, she and I had classes together.

I had quite a crush on Martin. He was « different ». He didn’t smoke pot anymore (my roommates all smoked pot; I didn’t) and didn’t drink as much as the others. While I did my homework at the kitchen table he would come to see me and talk or he would tell me about his poetry. I didn’t really like poetry but I was moved by what he wrote and was flattered he would talk to me about it.

We were very different. I was straight. Ordinary clothes, mainly jeans, hair in a ponytail. I didn’t feel worthy of his attention and had pushed aside any idea about us coming together. I didn’t see myself talking to him about it and didn’t think he was interested. He wore his hair very long, wore a kilt with army boots and heavy metal t-shirts. This was very new to me. He played the guitar.

The fact is he was working with Alexandre and was sleeping at the apartment a lot. I was so happy to see him often. When he wasn’t there I missed him, something was missing.

I started seeing someone else since I didn’t think he was interested and I really did think it was silly of me to be infatuated with him. Experience had taught me that having strong emotions for someone wasn’t good, nothing good came out of it.

But we started becoming close and ended sleeping together. I had to end my other relationship which was going nowhere fast. I didn’t really like the guy, I just felt lonely and wanted to empty my mind of Martin.

It was the happiest time of that year and of many years. He made me laugh, I felt close to him. I don’t remember us talking much. I remember nothing of what he said except that he came from l’Annonciation and that his ex’s name was Julia. I remember the feeling of his arms around me and his hair on my skin. I remember a feeling of being in « the zone » with him.

He used to wait for me in my room, in the dark and I would find him alone in the dark sitting on my bed as I came home from work, exhausted. I was always so happy to see him.

We would walk together and sit on a bench on Saint-Hubert street. We would look at each other ready to speak then say nothing. We just couldn’t I guess. I know I couldn’t say « I love you ». I just couldn’t.

My life at that time was so complicated. I was being diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I had ended more than one relationship that year because I had moved to Montreal, I was always very sad. All I wanted was to die or to become a nun. None of those were an option.

I repeated to myself countless times that I wasn’t in love. It was just for fun.

End of term came, he went home to his parent’s place and he said he would call. He didn’t.

He came back after many weeks of absence. I had been hoping but was drowning. We went walking and came back to my place. He went away again and didn’t call even if he said he would.

I was very sad and kept repeating to myself I wasn’t in love. When he came back at the apartment, all the roommates had changed except for Stéphanie and my boyfriend was living with me. I was torn. I did the girl who didn’t care but I wanted to go away with him. He went away and never came back.

He disappeared.

I looked for him everywhere unconsciously. My heart would leap when I would see a long-haired young man in a crowd. I would see him in a bus window, in the subway. I would think of him and see him on the street.

One day, six years later, I told my story for the first time to a sexologist. I cried and I kept telling I wasn’t in love. Really ? she asked. I think you are.

I cried and cried and said that yes I did love him. To say it made me stop mourning for those few months and I stopped looking for Martin.

I don’t have this hole in my chest anymore but when I am on Facebook or on Reunion I still try to find him. I’m kind of happy I don’t. He probably has a wife, kids, the whole deal.

He had the most wonderful smile.

Poubelle du dimanche matin

Octobre 2007

It is way too early to be here but here I am. I’m addicted. 9:30 and I’m showered, dressed, I’ve eaten, my mom has phoned and I’m waiting for them to come pick me up so we can go to the museum.

Mommy dearest has reminded me that it has been a year since I’ve been home. I know. I’ve been counting. I feel this weight on my shoulders every time I see them. I just wait for something to happen. It’s just not registering that when I’m not seeing them home nothing can happen. We’re in public, there’s no alcohol.

I’m entering my second month of low dosage on my meds. I have trouble sleeping. Is it a coincidence that my libido is rising as high as the CN Tower ? Or is it just hormones before Aunt Flo coming to visit ? Thoughts fly through my head and I’m starting to be a pissed off bitch. I hardly see the point in talking anymore.

I feel my emotions a bit more so I’m easily irritated, angry, sad. Tired. I can’t escape the things I know anymore and it weighs on me. I see everything again and it makes me anxious. I have to remind myself to breathe. I started wanting to curl up besides someone again. It makes me feel lonely.

This loneliness is inescapable. It will never go away, ever. I don’t think finding someone will help because I feel it even more when I have a boyfriend. I feel apart, disconnected from people, like I stand on a mountain looking at the world and no one can climb up to join me and I can’t find a way down. Sometimes I can’t feel any warmth in physical contact. Everything feels so un-permanent, a flicker quickly gone.

Even when I’m with my friend, we see each other every week and it’s the advantage of being single, there’s always time, well, I feel so much disconnected from her life. How can people be happy this way ? How can people not know ? Not know anything ? Do I know too much and it is rotting me from the inside out ?

Sometimes I lose patience and it makes me feel guilty that I may seem condescending. But I just want to wipe their smiles off. Some tell me that it doesn’t matter if I have lived through all that shit, it makes me « more », I have life experience. AH ! AH again !! What is the matter with people ? Life experience ? Having all this huge baggage that I can’t shake away just makes it harder to keep friends, fall in love, be plainly content and happy. Everytime I catch myself being happy I fear it’s going to end ! I can’t take anything for granted. Nothing is ever easy. I have to work at everything. I have to work at being happy goddammit !

More than that I attract shitty people more often than not. Trouble is following me like toilet paper after my shoes. I always have to find new ways to defend myself or to deal with stuff in the hopes that this shitty karma is going to go away. And they tell me it’s good to have a difficult life. It is NOT good ! I hate it, I just want it to go away.

Well, I guess I am angry.

Even when I see this really cute guy, presently I don’t even want to talk. I don’t see the point knowing my life is like this trash can full of crap. I hope that flowers will come from crap but right now…so I just walk with the guy, or sit or whatever. I’m too tired to speak anyway.

I feel like everytime I act bubbly, smiley, it is all a game. Appearance. When I laugh it’s okay. Something’s funny. But most of the time this life really isn’t funny.

Most people just do what they do even if they don’t feel happy, they continue. They marry, have children, make friends and keep them. Not aware. Why did I have to be aware that nothing of this made me happy and I didn’t want any of this ? That the friends I had made me feel very anxious and angry, that getting married and having kids with that guy made me feel claustrophobic and going to family meetings made me want to kill myself ? It makes things harder, I can’t pretend to be okay, happy.

I hate Sunday mornings.