From my days as a bonafide alchie right up to the present, I’ve fancied myself a mind-reader.
Pretty cool, huh?
Well, it was pretty cool, until the whole thing proved to be an enormous hoax. As it turns out, I can’t read minds. I can’t even tell you what’s going on in my own half of the time. My sponsor once pointed out to me that it’s one of the character defects that can cause a lot of pain, for yourself and for the person whose mind you’re reading.
You think you know something about someone else, you think you know how they feel, how they’re going to act, and what they’re going to say. And, with the knowledge you’ve acquired from “mind-reading” you make decisions. You make big, life altering decisions. You create a reality that exists completely and totally in the the vacuum of your own mind. And there, it explodes, detonating other toxic mental mines left and right.
This is what I do with Lars. I read his mind.
The last few days, however tumultuous they may have been in my life, were actually pretty quiet when it came to actual communication with Lars. And, it was that radio silence that let me think I knew what he was thinking. Without any actual words from Lars on which to hang, I chose his words for him.
I convinced myself that our fight, however petty it may have seemed or has evolved to become, wasn’t just a fight. It was the beginning of our great downfall. But, back in reality, there was no indication that it was the end, no evidence of a deal breaker, no trace of the ultimate snafu. But, I had made it just that. I’d written our story, alone, curled up in bed in the fetal position.
An AA slogan that, I’ll be honest, I kind of hate is: Feelings aren’t facts. While I don’t like this saying, for whatever reason, it does have truth. Feelings, from the gut, from the heart, from the head, wherever their origin, are not reality. They are a conception of reality that we create. And, when feelings take us to an extreme edge, it behooves us to forget, that perhaps, the feelings that we feel, are not entirely indicative of what’s really going on.
Tonight, Lars and I talked on the phone. We communicated, with words. There was no telekinesis. No metaphysical woo woo. Words, plain and simple. And, it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Neither of us really got our way. But, we were able to express how we both felt about our upset with one another and address the issues we wanted to address. And, I quickly learned, that Lars wasn’t going to dump me. I wasn’t going to be left.
It’s a relief, to feel the reality of the truth set you free from the scenarios that you build in the dark corners of your own mind, so easily.
It will take some time to cool off, but, Lars and I will be OK.
So, as I go to sleep tonight, I remind myself that I’m not a mind-reader. And, if I want to avoid being mind-fucked, I have to communicate outside the confines on my own skull.