The Knotted Cat's Cradle (In Reverse)

Hey there all...

So I've had a small epiphany today, as I was thinking about life, the Universe and everything.

I've come to the decision that I'm a dreamer...I mean, everyone says that, and I've come to think that, but I don't really think I've taken it to heart until right about now. A friend of mine recently told me that as a dreamer, "The dream is everything; a dreamer believes in nothing but the dream itself."

Whoa.

I was going somewhere with this...ah, yes. My relationships with people. No matter what, no matter who, no matter when or where, it always seems that my relationships end up falling flat on their faces. I think I've discovered why.

All three of my really serious boyfriends have all been furs, whom I've met or spent a great deal of time with on the Net. I think part of the reason I fell in love with these people was because they provided this gateway into my fantasies of being cuddled and cared for by really nice giant things, powerful things that were so big they filled this...personal void inside of me. For me, the fantasy was at least as important as the reality, and I was content to let the majority of our meetings be in this...fake realm.

I've been selfish. These people, obviously they wanted more. And when the reality of what it means to be in a relationship finally hit me, I retreated from them, and went back into the fantasy...because it's easier to deal with and I can turn it off any time I want to. So, when I finally achieved my dream of being close to someone, I rejected it for more fantasy. I don't actually want the Perfect Guy, I only want to *pine* after him, because pining is this romantic ideal that's formed in my head...and I haven't even watched a single episode of Ally McBeal.

Right now, I'm pining for two people, and feeling really bad about burning bridges with a third. One lives in Virginia, the other in Minnesota, and finally in Michigan, so right now there's no way any of us could *really* get together...and maybe that's why I'm pining. if the situation presented itself and we could actually...you know, do it...chances are I'd screw it up somehow, so I could return to my safe little fantasy.

It's not just relationships this affinity for dreams is messing up; I'm so close to actually achieving my dream as a writer I can...*taste* it. Maybe that's why none of my ideas seem to stick long enough to actually follow through on. Maybe that's why I haven't written a single thing in about two weeks. Maybe that's why I'm not going to work on any projects until the deadline is right in my face, so I can bypass it and keep right on dreaming about the day I'm successful.

How do I stop such ultimately destructive behavior? To tell the complete and honest truth, I'm scared; I've *achieved* my dreams before, and I know that unexpected responsibility comes with all that supposed bliss. I'm totally scared to have a relationship now, because I know myself, and I'm my own worst enemy. I've been dreaming so hard for so long, I just don't know how to live.

When I was young, I had this...really horrible life. I was small, and timid, and really enthusiastic about learnign, and doing well in school. Naturally, I had no friends. I was poor, my parents fought all the time, and I spent a lot of time...escaping, reading or watching TV, or hiding under my porch or making up games with a ball and our fire escape, or telling really dirty stories to my sister. I dreamed that my ALF doll was real, I dreamed there was a giant polar bear cub that lived in my backyard at night, I dreamed that an alien skunk named Stinker was real, I dreamed I was abducted by UFOs, about the end of the world, about snow, and having my own little song-and-dance club, like Kids, Incorporated.

More than anything else in the world, all I wanted was my mother's approval. For a while, I got it. I skipped the first grade, and by third I was reading on a ninth-grade level. But then I stopped winning math and spelling bees, and then my mom had stopped coming altogether, saying she would only 'mess me up'. My good grades had become common-place; when I got a C though, I was sure to hear about it...by high school, I just stopped trying. I can see it now; every year I retreated further and further into fantasy, and by my junioy year I found furry. That was all she wrote.

It's amazing how far a forgotten childhood trauma can go. My fear of success is something I haven't even realized up to this point, and I only realized how I sabotaged each and every one of my close relationships today.

Now that I know where this all came from, I have to figure out what to do with it.

I'm making progress, at least.