I do this thing now: dropping people immediately if they get angry at me for no reason -- I was thinking about it the other day -- wondering if actually it was those people trapping me that I was put off by. I see now that those two things go hand-in-glove -- the same people habitually made me feel trapped then became angry at me when they couldn't hold me. I think that's a symptom of mental illness, which I shied away from vigorously in the post-marriage years (no wonder). I can remember talking with another newspaper reporter who told me she had just been diagnosed as manic-depressive. I said, "Keep away from me, then." I was trying to survive and understood I was endangered by those people who had strange boundaries -- probably due to my childhood training in sacrificing myself upon demand (and the demand came frequently). As I was talking with Frank about this I said that as terrible as my ex had been for me, I was probably equally bad for him. I'm me, so my sympathy has to be with me. So I chafe against that idea even as I voice it. But attempting to look at my life as objectively as possible leads me to that thought. And -- every cloud has a silver lining -- it means that what I said to that other reporter was closer to kindness than cruelty.
On another note, when Lucia discovered I thought space aliens were boring, she was surprised. I was surprised she thinks they are interesting. It has nothing to do with my belief or disbelief -- I honestly have no idea if there are visitors from Outer Space or not, but it just seems as though I've seen the crummy old photos a million times, and the personal accounts are all similar. So why would I be interested? I am pissed off that the aliens don't beam me up and cure the ms. Can't they make themselves useful? I have no interest until such time as they do.