This time watching the movie inspired ugly crying. I watched every moment and cried like it was happening to me. Every twinge of the heartstrings was my own symphony of pain. My eyes turned into slits and my lips puffed up. I glanced in the mirror and thought, well, some people pay lots of money for their lips to look like this.
During the movie two friends are spending New Year's Eve alone and one woman ends up hailing a cab and making it to her friend-in-need's apartment just in time for New Year's.
"You're not alone," she says to her friend. And watching that I burst into tears.
Then I sent a text to my youngest brother.
I had mentioned to my eight-year-younger sibling that I didn't want to be alone for New Year's. He referenced the movie (a fact that made me realize I had done something right in raising him) and talked about how great it was as a film. He understood how I felt. He validated my feelings. He expressed his support for me. Hence I sent him a text saying I was re-watching the movie and that I had had a blast on New Year's and I hope he did too.
Then I burst into tears again.
Why is my best relationship with a man my relationship with my youngest brother? A brother I did feel completely responsible for when I was nine, ten, eleven, and twelve years old? He and I support each other unconditionally. When I was crazed by the fear of leaving my addict and felt like I had been kicked out of my house, my youngest brother was the one who drove with me to my house so I could get all my passwords and important numbers. He shared my shock and my pain. When my dad snapped at me later that night and I drove off into the middle of a tornado, he was the one who followed me into the storm. Growing up my nightmares always involved him in jeopardy and me trying to save him.
Much as I love my close relationship with my brother, it is currently making me cry. I don't want to think that he is the only man I can have a good relationship with--I want to think there are other men who might come into my life and offer that kind of support.
Last year the number one man in my life fell out of my life because he ultimately betrayed my trust. A friend, also in my top five relationships with men, after my dad and brothers, betrayed me and humiliated me in front of his wife. Both men appeared to completely support me. Both men ultimately betrayed me. "Wow," said a therapist. "What' s your relationship like with your dad?"
...
I thought it was great. Now I am having nightmares starring my dad. Maybe my perfect father-daughter relationship wasn't what it seemed? Maybe it was?
...
The latest disappointment happened mostly in my subconscious. I dreamt I was telling someone about a man who has become a good friend of mine in the last six months. In my dream, I said, "he's probably the man I'm closest to right now."
The other person, a voice, said, "Oooh, watch out. Remember what happened the last two times."
I didn't process the dream until later this evening, when, while watching my movie, I impulsively called him to say hi and was brushed off like horse fly on a pontoon boat ride in July.
Perhaps this situation contributed to the tears?
In any case, I am left to deal with the horror--the possibility that I will never connect with a man I can trust, a man I feel safe enough to let down my guard around. Perhaps I am in some way defective--a woman who chooses wrong every time when it comes to deciding who to trust.
Or maybe it's just timing. Maybe I'm feeling too sensitive. Like the sushi in the movie covering one woman's body--maybe everything right now is just too raw.
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