09/21/10 - 1:00 a.m.

Reach out to resources. That was one good piece of advice I've gotten.

I remember last summer - eating pizza with my girlfriend in a forgotten railroad town in the mountains. New life. It's already in motion.

I mean, at one point last night I think I'd already figured this out. I had pretended to be someone else to survive a dysfunctional family. Then got out of there, and said "Finally. I can stop acting." It's weird that there's a messed-up relative who's still seeking that never-existed person.

I already broke free of that, a long time ago...

What I hate, most, about the relative showing up is its implicit "call" to return to that old impersonation. "I'm not gonna do that any more," might be an appropriate response. "I'm not the person you think I am."

Or, "I'm not even the person you THOUGHT I was, even back then, at the time."

I was absolutely, 100% clear on this back then. That it was a crazy, messed-up power structure, and I had to get out of it to be all I could be. It's like an old guard from the old regime showing up. You really can't blame me for not wanting to go back to that hierarchy.

The messed-up relative said "I love you." But that's the thing: it's dysfunctionalism. It's just using a different word -- the wrong word -- for what's really going on. It's need. I mean, sadly, I think I can recognize that impulse from back when I was younger. It's thinking, "It would feel great if somebody loved me back." And then thinking, "That great feeling which I'm anticipating -- that must be love, itself, which I am feeling..."

And honestly, that puts a new perspective on this. I felt a tug back when I realized the strange stalker on my doorstep wasn't going to browbeat me, like our last conversation years ago. I think that was a very big part of the attraction.

UPDATE: Also, as my girlfriend pointed out, my messed-up relative doesn't even know what my actual personal experience was of that time, back then.

I do think, now, that mostly what I wanted a few days ago was just confidence that there'd finally be an end to the browbeating. Maybe I got that anyways.

UPDATE 2: I mean, at some point you have to ask what was going on in my head when the messed-up relative showed up. And it was fear, of the brow-beating, but also of its impact on me. I worried I'd get so fearful that I'd abandon myself. (I told my girlfriend I was worried it would obliterate my ego. And that then I would cease to exist.) My personality wasn't very "well-resourced" to begin with, back then. If any pieces of my personality were expressed, and then revealed as "unacceptable" to my messed-up relative [via a browbeating], then I'd have to leave them out of this new fake persona I was growing.

Ultimately I decided I didn't want to do that. And that the place to be was out of this rejecting and inhospitable environment. It's a noble insight. I should do more to applaud myself for the things that I did when I was 13. As much as myself as I kept reserved, I tried - I really tried - to find a path out.

An author once said, It's never too late to become who you wanted to be. But what's nice is, when I look back on my hopes as a teenager, I think I've already achieved some success