Validate Me Please

Have I been born or at some point rendered unable to detect an important tell between incredulity expressed out of pure and simple confusion, and incredulity expressed out of anger; frustration; exasperation?

Is there not a valid associative tie between incredulity and annoyance, then? I've seen a correlation too often for that to seem right.
It may have been emphasized harmfully by Mother.

Could Mother really be innocent after all, my understanding of her passive aggression false? No, I doubt it. There is some burden of responsibility that a mother should bear the brunt of maturity for with her child. That a lover should not have to bear the brunt of maturity for with a lover.
What, exactly?

I have felt a desperate need for, and lack of, validation for my interpretations of social interactions all my life. Having thought about that for a moment, yes, I believe all my life within useful memory.

Where is the sense that the validity of interpretation is to be assumed supposed to come from? Certainly, with my upbringing, it was undermined if not entirely destroyed. If I were to be allowed to assume that my interpretations were valid, Mother would have allowed me to defend myself from her passive-aggressiveness with logic. Which of course I did anyway, but it was continually invalidated at the point of my observations so that no argument I made could stick to her.
Narcissist. What have you done to me.

So I crave explicit validation of my interpretations as at least reasonable or understandable, and I crave it constantly. I become anxious and aggravated if it is not present and I begin to feel doubt.
What has this to do with incredulity? Mother often spoke to me in incredulous tones. From her, it seemed to mean that I was an unbelievably bad child. That my inconsideration and selfishness were so great that it was almost inconceivable I even existed. And so when she was angry at me, she would shout at me incredulously. How dare I question the love she undeniably had, while she complained at every juncture of what I was costing her and how much trouble I was that she put up with, and no matter how hard I hurt and raged and explained, trying to make her understand that she was hurting me, she never stepped down. Not once. Because she loved me, clearly.

So incredulity became the badge of "you horrid thing", to not back down became the abuse I was most used to, and letting me have my way became the golden grail I sought that represented the love I never got at home?

Perhaps, but of course I left home horribly twisted, and did not get my way often.

Things to learn and clarify:

To let me get my way is not what loving me is.
One can love me and not let me get away with shit.
One can not love me and let me get my way.
I know this, but the assumed lie may still be deeply ingrained in my emotional responses, moreso than for most.

Confusion is not inherently condemnation.
Confusion is not inherently condemnation.
Confusion is not inherently condemnation.
There are things someone may not understand about me other than how horrible I am.
An unfortunate number of people have the bad habit, but not everyone thinks something is bad just because they don't understand it.

What else?
The validity of my interpretations is assumed to be present, not absent, where no remark of it is made.
Gods, it's going to be a nightmare to reverse engineer that one. Geesus.

I Don't Know

a first draft

I ask you, what if I never stop
Just waiting for the shoe to drop
Will that bring it crashing down?
'Cause I got, scars that just never heal
Even with a love I deeply feel
I just can't find the bottom; which is deeper? Which is stronger?

And I fear that I do you wrong
Just by being a puzzle you can't solve
And I don't want to pull you along
Hoping you'll be the answer if there isn't one

I don't know if I believe in justice, fairness, peace or all that stuff anyway.
And even if I do I don't know if I'm really good enough to earn it anyway.

I ask you, what if I never change,
If I ache with dreams but stay in my cage
Will you ever tire of me here?
I expect my friends to change and grow
But sometimes I fear, it's funny though,
That I'm spinning my wheels and I'm getting nowhere.

Just waiting
To see some fruit grow
Where my hardest struggles tore the ground
And I'm waiting
And I don't know
How long it'll be now,
And whether you should wait with me or go back home.

I ask you am I going anywhere?
And if so, why am I still here?
I ask you why is everything so slow?
'Cause baby I don't know,
And I'm sorry, and I'm blind here, and I'm scared.

Returning From Vacation

I sit outside the Hamilton GO Station, the collar of my long coat made itchy by sweat, wool, and the pressure from the straps of my bags. This coat lost its last front button on the way down. It was already hanging loose, and clattered to the sidewalk when I got off the bus. Luckily, I noticed, and picked it up. I have it in my pocket. I idly wonder where I ever put the other ones, between drifting thoughts of Robby, house cleaning, and the politics that have sadly now come up with the one I came here to visit. My bus back to London will arrive in about 40 minutes at platform eleven. It seems to be one of the only platforms without an accompanying bench, but I sit outside anyway, on the cool cement. It seems crosslegged is more suited to writing anyway.

Robby will (probably) meet me at the London terminal, and from there, I dive back into a working routine. But let us hope, the break will help me bear my more difficult shifts with more perspective - and what changes we have set up will help. The bus arrives ahead of schedule. Will we load up and leave early? Well, it seems we will load up early. I have no objection to that.

So now, I will resume typing on my laptop. On Blogger itself, in fact. This is my first time using greyhound on-board Wi-Fi as far as I can recall. It seems humble but serviceable. I will likely use my laptop to listen to music and keep collecting my clickables for the ChickenSmoothie Hallowe'en Event. It's been keeping me attached to my laptop of late, a very effective Skinner box. The Lights On Lights Off forum game has been remarkably effective at filling out my wishlist. I finally have done some work on the adoptables I want to give out for it, and I have designed 13 "haunts" already... Although I have about 50 trick or treaters that I've promised treats already, so I still have a long way to go. I intend to deliver the first batch in the next day or two, and hopefully people will be patient while I get to all the waiting trick or treaters, and also complete the linearts for the three critter types I haven't finished yet.

Now I have become distracted, so I will leave this here as it is. Consider it my October update, I suppose. Fare thee well.