Time; or circumstance; makes liars of us all.
We can try to get around it by clever wordplay, vagueness, doublespeak. We can make only make promises we’re certain of, or have very high chances of success. But what happens when life intervenes? What happens when there’s nothing left; no effort, no energy, no struggle or self-awareness; to fuel the promise and fulfill it? What happens when, despite all your best efforts and time and perhaps even money thrown at the problem, you can’t do what you said you were going to?
These are the questions that have been plaguing me the past few weeks. Since I got back from Minnesota, really. I’ve made quite a number of promises in the past year and there’s a few very sticky ones that I can’t seem to fulfill; and not through lack of trying. See, I promised my boyfriend that I’d be looking for work before I even went to see him in June. I promised him that I’d be looking, and that I would find a job, so I could help him; and Sir; to get out of the mounting money issues that have been threatening on the horizon.
Surgery isn’t cheap. Health isn’t cheap. Rent, food, medical bills, student loans, credit card debt, none of it comes cheaply. Why should I be the only one not pulling my weight in that arena…? Especially when it was; primarily; my poly heart leading the charge to date, and our shared past that led me back into Ry’s arms.
See, being the stay-at-home is one thing when it’s just you and one other partner. It can be balanced pretty well even in this day and age of multiple jobs and double mortgages if your partner has a decent job and you’re not very high maintenance. Well. It turns out that in addition to being “high maintenance” despite my best efforts; *no one plans for a cancer scare or that many surgeries in that short an amount of time!*; a long distance relationship takes quite a bit of time and effort to maintain. And more money than we initially suspected.
So, the easiest option is that I start working. It’s logical, it’s mentally sound, and it’s only reasonable. Except that my cocktail of mental health issues don’t seem to agree. A few good years with the dysphoria and depression might have made me shortsighted. It’s been nearly eighteen months since my last breakdown after all! I shouldn’t live in fear of my triggers or hide in the house. All of this was true, until yesterday. My first breakdown in a year and a half, and it was a depression and dysphoria-induced emotional rant that left two of us in tears and one trying to find the best road out and back to stability.
What happens when you can’t keep your promises?
You can be mad at yourself. Angry, and bitter, that you’re not “normal.” That life, for some reason, seems to have hit the Hard Mode option when it comes to you. You can bitch and complain, and some of that might even be healthy. Bottling your emotions only leads to explosions later on down the line.
You can cry about it. Mourn for everything that could have been, *if only.* But “if only” doesn’t satisfy the creditors, and it certainly doesn’t make that mountain any smaller. But then again, tears are an emotional release valve. All they really are is your body telling you “hey, you’re feeling a lot right now. Release it, and then take a good hard look at what’s going on.” They’re sort of a check-engine light of emotions.
You can try not to be what’s causing the problem. But castigating yourself over an accident of birth or circumstance isn’t going to fix it, and trying not to have PTSD, anxiety, depression, or “not being trans” will actively make it worse.
You can do the thing in spite of every emotional and mental flag waving at you saying “don’t do the thing.” Because you promised, and you hold yourself to be an honorable person. Because you gave your word and you keep it because that’s what honorable men do. Because you’re tired of offering what feel like excuses even though there’s very good medical reasons not to do the thing.
There isn’t a good answer. There isn’t a safe, comfortable, reasonable response when your heart and your brain are at war with each other. When doing the thing you promised to do means forcibly misgendering yourself, dealing with an unkind and uncaring public, and setting you back with regards to dysphoria while you live in a state that doesn’t allow you to amend your paperwork and makes HRT a pain in the ass to get…. even if you had the money to throw at the problem. Which is where this whole mess began in the first place.
What happens when you can’t keep your promises…?
You explain yourself as best you can. You make no excuses and lay everything at the feet of the people you gave your word to. You offer them the truth of you, and you hope they understand. You hope they forgive you, and that eventually you can get the help you require to make all those issues and roadblocks if not go away, lesser.
Like Sir said, you can’t handwave your emotions and you can’t just ignore your mental health when you make promises. You can’t give your word based on an idealized world.
Mostly, what happens when you can’t keep your promises I’ve found, is that the other honorable people in your life pull you in closer instead of pushing you away, and do their best to help you do better in the future. They let you put the effort down for a little while, go through all that emotional release, and pick it up again when you’re ready. And, in the meantime, do their best to figure out how to help. Whether that’s not asking the impossible, or being realistic themselves in what’s really possible in our non-idealized world.
We’re only human. Even honorable men forget that sometimes.
House Of Crows 