I had lunch with C & M yesterday and told them everything. But as I was telling it, I had a realization about another aspect of why this whole situation bugs me.
My life is great. I have a job I love. I have friends I love. I’m having weird-ass unbelievable experiences that, even though they happen, still seem impossible. I have a working level of luck and whimsy and magic in my life that, in general, makes my life incredibly fun for me to live.
And I’m a slut about it. I’ll share it with anyone who shows even the tiniest bit of interest in it. I’ll haul anyone along on any adventure. What weird thing can we make happen? Okay, let’s try it.
Because it’s awesome.
But you can’t fuck it up. If you’re going to join me in this cool weird thing, you have to be open to it and gentle with it.
And my parents can’t/won’t do that. They would rather be miserable. They would rather understand me as miserable and unfulfilled than to be open and vulnerable to delight. To share in delight with me.
And that pisses me off and makes me feel rejected. I have worked so hard to have this amazing life and you’d rather shit on it than share it.