static clingy

I think there are several reasons why I have trouble letting go. I have incredibly strong, virile hands, and I feel a need to show off that strength through my grip, for example. But I also have trouble mentally. This does not come as a shock to my faithful 15 followers of this blog, but to the uninitiated - let me just bring you up to speed: Bitch is crazy.

This isn't just about relationships. It's a matter of fact for most facets of my life. I find something, I love it, and it's mine for life. I'm a hoarder. I have hoarding problems. Except instead of ugly ass antiques and weird keepsakes from my deceased parents or whatever, it's with memories, with people, with pets, with the past. As we all know, this is unhealthy. After all, you only lose what you cling to.

I'm a clinger. I've definitely known this for a long time, and the most recent victims of my clinging may not agree, but my clinging has gotten much better. There was a time when I was unhinged. That was five minutes ago. No, just kidding. I think in high school I was really bad. The thing is - when I like something, really, really like it, like Sally Fields Oscar Speech like it, I become obsessed with it. It's never a freaky-deaky, outside-in-your-bushes obsession, but my mind runs rampant with thoughts of you.

My first victims were the Spice Girls. My first screen name was SPICEBOY35. In the early days of the Internets, I pretended to be a friend of the Spice Girls in Spice Girls Chatrooms on AOL. I knew so much about each one of them that I could pass for a close friend. I bought the Ginger Spice Barbie Doll (after she quit, thinking I'd make money off of it one day, if only I could resist the urge to play with her rather than keep her in her box - mint condition. I couldn't resist.) I saw them in concert in 6th grade. (And then again in my Senior year. ...Of college.) My wall was covered in posters. I broke the front row chair at the local movie theater due to my hyperventilation and incessant bouncing throughout the Spiceworld movie. I mean literally popped the seat right out of the chair and fell my ass on the floor of the cinema. I'm not even kidding.

Then came No Doubt/Gwen Stefani. My screen name became Scream4NoDoubt. Why Scream? Because I was simultaneously obsessed with Scream. And Scream 2. And yes, even Scream 3. Obsessed. I made my little brother film me and my best friend Mike in our very own versions of Scream. Of course, we said they were original works. I was Drew Barrymore's character (wig and all) and Mike was Ghostface for Halloween.

Then Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I have all the seasons on DVD, know all the episodes by heart, could tell you the entire story of the damn show if you cared to sit there and listen. This one's not as impressive, though, because nearly everyone who watches the show also becomes obsessed.

My point here is not that I'm a giant freak who indulges way, way, way too much personal, embarassing information on his blog. My point is that I have a hard time letting go.

I am still in love with all of those things. All of those things can still do no wrong in my eyes, including the ones that don't exist anymore. As you can guess, this kind of unhealthy obsession is just fine with celebrities, movies, TV shows and the like. But when it comes to actual people - you know, ones that you come in contact with - it can get tricky. Everything's more real. And for some reason, people get way more freaked out when they see the shrine you've created in your room of their personal items and pictures.

I let my first relationship go on for far too long, not because I was obsessed, but because I couldn't let go. I always thought that love was supposed to work as long as two people who want it to work make it work. I didn't stop to think about how much fucking work was involved. I didn't even stop to think about how futile that work is if the person doesn't really love you back. And I continued on, hoping we could find some way to make it work.

With him, I thought I learned my lesson. Though often, in so many different situations, I find myself falling into old habits. I used to think that it was because of my obsession. I used to think that this compulsion drove me to hold on to things because of how much I liked them.

But that can't be true. Because a point came in that relationship where it was clear that I didn't like this person at all. I couldn't use that excuse. It drove me to realize that what I'm really obsessed with is not the Spice Girls, it's not Gwen Stefani, it's not Madonna, or Lady GaGa (I mean it is - but it's not. Not for the purposes of this blog entry) but it's hope. I don't let go because I'm always hoping that things will get better.

Chances are - if I can't let go of you, it's because I'm not ready to give up on that hope. I try to make this sound like it's a positive thing, but it's not. There's so much truth in the idea that letting go frees you. So much. It's a wonderful way to look at things. But when people say that, they're trying to make you forget that letting go means that you lose something, too.

I have a hard time dealing with loss because I am so full of this hope stuff. So full that my hope sometimes gets in the way of me just accepting reality. I always have to find a way around it - there has to be, because I believe in it. But wishing and hoping and praying and planning for something to change when it's clearly not is not hope - it's just insane. The results you're hoping for are not plausible if you stay in a situation with constants that aren't already creating those results. You have to bring in a variable. You have to change the game. That's why you free yourself.

It's a dignity I don't yet possess - the ability to walk away. Perhaps part of it stems from my fascination with people who refuse to take no for an answer, those with determination of the gods. I guess the difference is that those people aren't concerned with winning people over, whereas sometimes, it's all I care about.

I am getting better at it, this much is true. Life, and all of it's embarassing experiences, to be later typed and confided to a blog, teaches you. You learn when enough is enough. You learn that it's okay to walk away when you've tried everything you could try. You learn that sometimes you let go too soon. But that's what hope is really for. It's not for holding on, it's for letting go... in hope of something better.