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Anyhow, I want to say thanks to the folks who were around when I was more actively posting and extend my thanks to David for putting together this site. The support I found here helped me stay sane (well, as sane as I get) and keep things in perspective.
It's funny looking back on the whole experience and realizing things that I couldn't see at the time. In retrospect, I understand that my LO did have an interest in me in his own weird way. Perhaps I couldn't see it because I was over-analyzing the hell out of everything, but I think the primary reason I couldn't see it was because remaining willfully ignorant was about the only defense I had to keep from doing and/or saying something regrettable. If I could convince myself that LO hated me, I could maintain a level of control over myself that would be difficult if I acknowledged that he liked me.
I've moved on now, although I'm sure that if I were thrown back into that previous environment, I'd relapse. But that's the past.
Is it over? Yes . . . and no. I've come to understand that I'm a serial limerent. There's always somebody I'm looking at to fill a void that they cannot fill. Much of my life, it was historical people (yeah, I know, weird. But much weirder than people who obsess over pop culture icons? Don't answer that). Occasionally, they were living people from my real life. What made the other IRL people different was that my limerence towards them always occurred when I was available. I could make a move, they could make a move. It was a dance of emotions and brain chemicals in which we could both freely engage. Oh, and they weren't my boss.
And now? Well, now I've transferred to a random guy at my church. :roll: I won't say it's "fun", but I'll say that it's manageable. There is no expectation that I interact with him whatsoever. He could be a blithering idiot, he could be a racist, he could have a half-dozen bodies buried in his backyard - I'll never know. Hell, I'll probably never even know his name. And it's sort of funny watching him take an interest and gradually migrate around the church each Sunday (I'm sorry, Jesus, I'm really trying to focus on you, but we both know my attention span is - squirrel! - uh, where was I?). He's adorably self-conscious around me, but he has grown bolder in the past several weeks and sits right near me now. Honestly, I'd be quite happy if we could leave this to awkward handshake of peace moments and occasional furtive glances. I hope he never works up the nerve to actually speak to me.
Anyhow, I see that it's connected to stress and that it stems from issues with my parents originating in my childhood. The more I come to terms with the issues of my childhood, the easier this is to handle. Will I ever be "cured"? Probably not. But if I can keep things in perspective, I can be the walking wounded like most everybody else and get through life; if I keep things in perspective, I might even find that I enjoy things in life. Currently, transferred minor limerence bout aside, I'm enjoying my life. I love my husband and I'm very happy (and lucky) to have him.
A tremendous thanks again to everybody who has helped me. You guys rock!
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- Joined: Mon Feb 24, 2014 11:42 pm
lol....always enjoy your insight and sense of humor, Gryph.
".... I think the primary reason I couldn't see it was because remaining willfully ignorant was about the only defense I had to keep from doing and/or saying something regrettable. If I could convince myself that LO hated me, I could maintain a level of control over myself that would be difficult if I acknowledged that he liked me."
The following is not to try to convince you anything otherwise, but rather to express how this hit me, even as you address later how a good portion of the experience "... stems from issues with my parents originating in my childhood". It's just interesting to me how your own "he doesn't/can't like me" perhaps comes most to the fore within you opposite an elderly, dismissing, and even at times, denigrating male. And so while I can agree with your cause and effect here....that convincing yourself of his disinterest allowed you a measure of composure under the circumstances....I'm wondering if it does not still get knotted up with a deep desire to have been on better terms with your dad. Coming from a perspective of current declining communication ability with both of my parents, yet realizing how confusing that communication has always been and having wanted it to be better and more mutually caring (Edit added: ...and how much I've replicated that dissonant angst in my my own marriage), I can still see how much deep, imagined, fantasized connection and communication with my LO(s) in my adult life was rooted in that deficiency when growing up.
"....I'm sorry, Jesus, I'm really trying to focus on you, but we both know my attention span is.... "
If you had been in my high school class while we were corralled into the stations of the cross, Sister DelCadia would have recognized that libidinous twinkle in your eye and wrapped your knuckles right hard with the ruler! (..."Mind your thoughts, young lady!!!"...) But just to add the obvious, that trying to banish those semi-salacious subterranean rumblings is *extra* hard when you are absolutely supposed to be immersed in other, 'higher' sentiments...
"Much of my life, it was historical people (yeah, I know, weird. But much weirder than people who obsess over pop culture icons?.... "
I agree and don't thing it's weird....indeed, feel that many of us limerents have a fairly fluid radar system onto which to rest our sights. Between literature (fact or fiction), film, and music, we are likely to engulf through our early years pretty heavy doses of sustenance for limerent fantasy. As most will know by now, the pop star Prince is dead. When I heard the news driving back to work from lunch, there was that strange hollow feeling-sound inside, like some part of my late teen years just vanished into a black hole. Partially because he was local.....one of "us"....there is that element of losing one of your tribe. But from a limerent perspective, was there ever a time when I was grooving to a Prince song, when my iLO (internal LO) wasn't there with me?.....that enigmatic dance partner with whom I moved with effortless synchrony? The experience upon hearing of his death was not unlike that feeling many limerents profess to on the down-slope of the LE curve,....that feeling of grief, that something deep within had died.
"...if I can keep things in perspective, I can be the walking wounded like most everybody else and get through life"
Here's wishing for better than that and will just encourage a bit of vigilance at monitoring your internal state in your interactions with this hopefully-not-proto-LO. But good to hear from you and that things are moving in a better and more enjoyable direction these days, Gryph.
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- Joined: Fri Jan 02, 2015 6:29 am
When I read your comment: "I'm wondering if it does not still get knotted up with a deep desire to have been on better terms with your dad," I had to stop and mull it over for a while. I certainly think that this is a primary element in my subconscious attraction to the men who become my LOs, but my recent ex-LO was the first IRL limerent experience where the LO was dismissive towards me. Did the dismissiveness compound the painful aspects of LE? Yes, yes it did. But I don't think that element attracted me to him or initiated the limerence.
All my other IRL LO's have been men who were respectful of me, even if they did not demonstrate some form of returned interest.
Most of my LOs have been people with whom emotional interaction was attainable. At 19, I had serious limerence/hero worship towards a professor who was old enough to be my father (he was not my professor, by the way, I met him when I went to his office hours with one of my friends). I don't know how he saw me (although 19 year-old Gryphon liked to think he was at least somewhat romantically interested), but he was always respectful. He once insisted that he take me to the student health center because he witnessed me having one of my dramatic nosebleeds where I'd start bleeding from the lachrymal ducts; he had wanted to take me to the ER because seeing somebody spontaneously leak blood from their eyes is pretty unsettling. I kept insisting that it was not a big deal, that it just happened sometimes when I was under a lot of stress. He was shocked that I had never gone to a doctor about sudden bouts of eye-bleeding and became more insistent on taking me to the ER. When I explained I could not go to the ER because my parents would be upset to see that on the insurance bill, he took me to student health and sat in the waiting room. He was really much more the sort of person I find myself becoming limerent over.
"If you had been in my high school class while we were corralled into the stations of the cross, Sister DelCadia would have recognized that libidinous twinkle in your eye and wrapped your knuckles right hard with the ruler!"
I remember Sister Stephanie from HS. We used to talk after class about which Christian music artists were the hottest. She had a thing for Michael W. Smith. ;)
" When I heard the news driving back to work from lunch, there was that strange hollow feeling-sound inside, like some part of my late teen years just vanished into a black hole."
While I've never taken an emotional hit from the passing of a pop icon, I know that a lot of my fellow grad students were effected by Prince's death. I was in our shared office when we found out and a couple of them started crying because of the role his music played in their lives. So you're certainly not alone in that feeling of grief; his music touched a lot of lives in profound ways.
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At first, I thought, "Ouch. Burn." But then I decided, "Well, that was fun while it lasted, time to focus on what I'm really here for." Still hurts, but I've put it in perspective and am moving on.
For all I know, he has five bodies buried in his backyard and was trying to figure out if he could lure Gryphon into making it an even half-dozen, then realized that Gryphon seeks attention, not commitment, and would make a terrible addition to the burial plot.
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