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- Last night I heard this dumb song on the country radio station about this guy who just wants to wear his "shades" and have himself a Sunday, or however it goes*, and what he means is he wants to relax and have fun on his day off, and I realized (not for the first time) that I never EVER let myself do that. A good weekend to me is one that leaves me exhausted and I show up to work on Monday morning not remembering what in the world I was working on last week or even what my job is. A good weekend is something to recover from. Years ago that meant hangovers, now it means sore muscles. I mean I can be hard on myself (physically as well as in other ways). A couple weeks ago I decided that the main thing wrong with my left leg is the glute. My left leg in general is weaker than my right leg, all counterparts - arch, calf, quad, glute - but the biggest discrepancy and the biggest problem, I decided, is the glute. So I spent all Saturday after my workout dragging around this painful, tired glute. Every step hurt. Because there's no point in gradually increasing strength, right - I have to destroy it and be in pain or else I'm not doing anything. Was reading things I wrote around the end of my relationship with that son of a bitch in Seattle (he's not a son of a bitch), and I've been making all the same mistakes again. This time around I guess we're forced to confront certain things because we live in the same house and can't just stop seeing each other. Otherwise I'm sure I would have abandoned it all months ago - years ago - because that's what I do. Whenever I get hurt, whenever I feel anything, I build up my cold hard shell and become impermeable. I overreact to perceived slights (just like the circulation in my toes overreacts to perceived cold!). I can be very off-putting. I was then, and I have been again, and I know where it gets me, and I keep doing it. (I have emotional Reynaud's syndrome!) I had to smile during our argument a few days ago - he thought I was smiling because I was happy I'd hurt him, but I was smiling because I suddenly realized the gripes he was airing about me were the exact same gripes I had about him, and I realized that we both had some serious misconceptions about each other. It changes things. Other shit too. "How do you think that made me feel?" he said. You! How do you think it made me feel! "We've been through a lot," he said. I fucking know that, I'm the one who's been muttering that to myself for ages, he’s the one who doesn’t know that. "We've been through a lot and I thought we had something good," he said. Yeah fucking so did I. ... Wait, wait a minute. If he's bringing up the exact same things I've been saying to myself so sanctimoniously, then... perhaps there are some misconceptions. Not that it definitely changes things, but it could change things. * Florida Georgia Line "Sun Daze" and holy shit those are some awful cringey lyrics.
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