Emotional vampires don't see themselves in mirrors...

Because I had preconceived notions about _Sam_, I have to say I am pleasantly surprised that I am still thinking about it and also by how much it is both kind of "trashy" and still an important read. Lonnie Coleman's writing reminds me a lot of Jacqueline Susann's and I like that. What is far more striking for me, though, is how there are several different passages that speak to me, as if directly, reminding me that no matter how different the main character may be from you, there are still universal things that hit you with both reassurance (i.e. "you are not alone") and uncomfortable truth.

A lot of drama revolves around Sam's life and the people in it, some of which is very upsetting and even jarring. I tend to shy away from high theatrics, but Lonnie Coleman has a witty way with words, "gets" cats (Andrew is one of the most delightful non-human characters to ever appear in a novel) and can wow you with unexpectedly tender scenes.

One passage, in particular, really affects and if you find yourself ever dealing with histrionics or any kind of behavior from another person that continually weighs you down no matter how much you help that person, keep in mind this: "One thing you have to learn right off in this life: you're not responsible for anybody but yourself. That doesn't mean you shouldn't be kind--and nice, but it does mean you aren't to blame if somebody uses you as the excuse {substitute any self-destructive behavior here}"

This may sound harsh, but I find it very soothing because one thing "emotional vampires"* (some of which appear in this book) can do is make other people feel bad for the things they themselves do. Life is hard enough without continually having to deal with those who use manipulation to keep you tethered to them in the most unhealthy of ways. I took this (and more away from _Sam_) and am glad that I had the chance to read such a rocky and well-written tale, where anything can happen and does.

*"Emotional vampires" is a term I first heard of a few years ago when I was doing some research on dealing with difficult people. I could not believe how familiar some of the "types" were to me and when I finished reading _Sam_ and thought back on some things the quote I make reference to really, really hit me hard, yet also helped me. I firmly believe we should be there for people, but I also feel that there are "toxic" people (even amongst our families) we deserve to be free from when they create nothing but hardship and heartache. I don't think it's selfish, but more a matter of self-care. What follows below is an excellent article--along with some very heartfelt and perceptive comments--on the subject, focusing on the five main types of emotional vampires:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/emotional-freedom/201101/the-5-types-emotional-vampires-in-your-life

The Washington Times is one of the few papers left (and I do not mean this is as a compliment) that regularly features anti-gay op ed pieces. Their most recent one argues that (in terms of discrimination) no class of people should be protected based on their "desires," meaning for them (The Washington Times) sexual ones. For publications and people who are homophobic, more times than not they frame their arguments against gay rights strictly in terms of the sexual aspect, which is why I believe they so often use the word "homosexual" over the more friendly and accepted "gay."

I get so very tired and saddened by this argument...by the homophobic belief and argument that gay people are strictly ruled by some sort of salacious desire and that they have (or want to have) sex 24/7. This is not the case and I think it is the only argument they have and a very, very flimsy one at that. I can only speak for myself, but I have a feeling I am not the only gay person who could care less about desire and who is much more focused on living a good, clean life and who has a heart that wants love as much as any straight person does.

Just as homophobic people apparently cannot change who they are (though belief is not inborn the way being gay is) neither can gay people. The only "ex-gay therapy" I know of that works is one I do not even want to think about...because as much as I find some days a very, very hard (near impossible) struggle and have had tempting thoughts about non-existence, I still want to live, not die.

It seems to me that not thinking about something (or someone) is a little bit easier than not feeling about something (or someone). I am just scraping by at not thinking (mostly not, at least) but failing miserably at not feeling. 

Books often me re-direct my thinking, which is one reason of many I love them so much. Sometimes, though, they hit me hard and oddly comfort and connect to my thoughts and feelings in a way I both want to avoid and want to embrace.

Currently, I am reading this:



It is full of thoughts and feelings that I have rarely encountered before in fiction, though, as I find with every lesfic book I read, the main character's feelings are returned. I would so like to find a novel or short story that deals realistically, unflinchingly and without any kind of starry-eyed idealism, with true unrequited love...not the 'fake' kind where both characters (*sigh*) realize at the end they really do like each other. 

Reading can help you feel less alone in situations you think are unique to you and that can help you feel less alien and monster-like. But, despite all the wonderful books I have read, I still long for that one. 

In the book I'm reading now there are so many passages that hit me hard (there are ones about coming out to family that eerily reflect my own experience, down to the words the mother says and the actions she takes in making absolutely clear she will not be accepting her daughter).

This one comes very close to hitting the nail on how I would give anything to never have encountered the feelings (and maybe even the person, as lovely a person as she is) within me:

The point being, I wasn’t a person who was uncomfortable with physical contact. So long as it was friendly, of course. Why then, was the feeling of Sarah’s hand on mine so unnerving? If I had the luxury of foresight, I might have said it was an omen. An omen telling me to thank her and walk away. Keep my distance. But I didn’t have that luxury, and I didn’t walk away. She wouldn’t let me.

I must stress again that this book is about requited feelings and that for me, the "she wouldn't let me" is not the person but my persona or whatever it is in charge of my emotions. But even so I relate to them. As much as I like the person I like and as much as she has been a great role model for me, I often wish I had never met her :(

The closest I have ever come to a novel capturing the pain of unrequited love is this:

by Dorothy Strachey

And, really, I get the distinct impression that the only reason there is no reciprocal relationship is because the recipient does not feel it is right to act on their feelings, something else I can relate to...

Don't get me wrong, I am happy for people who are happy about the holidays and spending their Christmas with their family. I don't begrudge them a single thing and wish them well, with all of my heart and soul. The problem is how some happy holiday people treat those of us who (often unbeknownst to them) struggle deeply.

"Did you see your family yesterday?" Someone asked me the day after Thanksgiving.

"No," I said, quietly, moving on to ask them about their holiday.

"You didn't go see your parents?" This person persisted, a look of judgment on her face that was unmistakable and piercing.

"It's kind of a long story," I mumbled, in a kind of jokey voice, hoping she would just drop it.

She must have seen the look on my face because she did, but she does this each major holiday and never seems to understand that I don't want to explain or talk about it. She doesn't need nor have to know that my situation has to do with my being gay and coming from a family that is so homophobic and strictly religious to say it is suffocating is putting it mildly.

I long to say to holiday happy people: please don't judge those of us who don't see their families at Christmas or those who choose to clam up about it. Not only is it not your business, it is something you are judging (sometimes harshly and unfairly) without knowing anything about the situation.

The holidays are not a happy time for everyone and as long as we are not being a Scrooge about it and not commenting on how you spend your holidays, I think we have a right to be left alone in our answering and in our being subject to scrutiny.

So I'm sitting at my desk on a lunch break, eating the way I prefer it, by myself. I know how cold this must sound, but I don't mean to be. 

I just find socially eating very awkward to begin with (especially in groups, but even often just with another person)...plus, I really, really like having the time to catch up with quick reading or some listening to music with my headphones. Until the recent past, I would spend my lunchtime writing a friend I had become close with over the period of three years, but that friendship has ended and though it still hurts a whole lot more than I want it to, I am slowly adjusting.

Anyway, enough of that...the heart of what I want to say is this: I am so tired of people who are perceived as loners or wanting to be alone somehow being seen as very off...or even worse. That is why I was so thrilled to see this article:


https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/living-single/201406/the-happy-loner 

with emphasis on statements like this one:


"Personally, I'd be more likely to distrust people who can't bear time with themselves. What's wrong with them that they can't abide their own company – what are they trying to hide in the crowd?"


Actually, I do not really think of myself as a complete loner when I am home with my cat. He feels like a companion just as much as a human would be, only one I am more comfortable with for so many reasons. 

It seems like there are many more articles out there 

(like this one: 

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/jun/22/britain-loneliness-capital-isolation-being-alone )

and that also thrills me. 

I still miss the friend I was writing with and I will always wonder if she is okay and what went wrong, but here's the thing: when you are a loner and have been for quite some time I think it cushions (even if it is just a tad bit) you better when hurt like "ghosting" comes along.