Sunday, 13 November 2011

Collision course

We’re talking about anger. Virgil says he feels the anger I’m communicating is a step back but I think it’s progress. I say, At least it’s honest anger. At least I’m saying ‘I feel angry and it’s because…’ rather than shouting at you about trivial things.

The well of anger and hurt must surely dry up at some point. I’m doing a little better already. I can now contemplate the fact of Sarah for seconds at a time without tears or explosions. We have even talked about her a little. The latest complication is that, inescapably, our orbits are intersecting. She is coming to our sex party in December and has expressed interest in attending a social event before then.

Sarah doesn’t know about my aversion to contact with her. My feelings are not her responsibility. Now it looks as though I am going to have to meet her – or make a statement, to be delivered through Virgil, that I positively don’t want to. That would be awkward and it would not make me look good. 

If I really want to get through this and feel better I think I am going to have to try to face down my aversion. The thought makes me shudder. It’s like looking at a fire and knowing that of your own free will you are going to put your hand in it.

Virgil thinks that if I meet Sarah I will learn that she is not a rival to me and also that she is a nice person who I would like. I say, Is she a new friend then? And he says, Yes, I think she could become a good friend. I process this information.

The truth is that I am miserably curious about Sarah in the same way that I find it impossible not to pick at scabs and sore spots. There will be many other people at the party in December and I could probably go the whole night without bumping in to her. But I feel I must know what she looks like so I can at least avoid her.  

Both Virgil and Douglas (our counsellor) have suggested that the reality cannot be as bad as my imaginings. I worry about meeting Sarah – mostly that I will humiliate myself by bursting into tears or being rude to her. I worry that it will make things worse rather than better. I cannot bear the idea that I might feel worse than I already do. 

Knowing Sarah even slightly might give me more to pin my antipathy on. I try not to think bad thoughts about Sarah and even to see her in a positive light. I tell myself that when I find a Sarah for myself things will feel easier.

I’m like a smoker who has given up smoking but doesn’t truly want to give up and suffers terrible withdrawal symptoms as a result. I am scared that all this jealousy and pain is a sign that I have not accepted the situation. Maybe I have to make a choice. Choose to let go of all this anger and pain, just make a choice and let go. Jump. Do I actually want to? That is the question. I would like to. I think I do. I don’t know if I can.

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