![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I guess I'm sorry for last night's dramatic post, but not sorry enough to delete it. Thank you all for the support. Those were a pretty painful few hours. I don't handle anger well and having someone I love deeply in pain is one of the hardest things I can imagine. The only thing worse would be being inside Snake's own heart where the icy chill must cut like crystal knife. My poor baby.
Snake claims that Toutou changes completely when I'm around and starts acting like a covert asshole to him because he "knows" (quotation marks to indicate subconscious, unplanned devilry) that he can piss Snake off and then win my support. But what triggers Snake more than anything in the world is when he's being "good" and he is treated like he's "bad". This goes right back to a childhood where he was the good boy and the hardest working student in school and he was abused at home for not being good enough or for even more arbitrary reasons.
Coupled with modelling from this childhood that taught him that the way to handle a situtation like that is to lash out and cut people off, we have a recipe for disasters like yesterday. But he's not his mother; she will cut off one of her children for a year and refuse to speak to them. She will toss husbands out on their ears, only to regret it later, but then refuse to make ammends.
Snake is not his mother, and that's why we had Christmas. And that's why today was a gentle, rolling day of peace and rest. And that is why I have to be brave and strong when he's hurting that bad and keep climbing back in the ring to speak slow, calm sense to his injured pride. And that's why a puppy's big red tongue licking a dead-sad face is the greatest gift imaginable.
So, do you want to hear my presents?
• awesome Birkenstock sandals to replace my cheap, dog-chewed slippers from Snake
• comfy boxer shorts from Toutou
• Airborn from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
appelle
• home-made pickles from my supervisor at work
And, best of all...
• The magnificent Locas collection by Jaime Hernandez, the greatest cartoonist of late-20th Century America - from Snake and Toutou
This is my 16th Christmas; my first was in 1988 in a wood-heated cabin on an icebound lake with my sweet Snake. Occassional tumult is the price we pay.
Snake claims that Toutou changes completely when I'm around and starts acting like a covert asshole to him because he "knows" (quotation marks to indicate subconscious, unplanned devilry) that he can piss Snake off and then win my support. But what triggers Snake more than anything in the world is when he's being "good" and he is treated like he's "bad". This goes right back to a childhood where he was the good boy and the hardest working student in school and he was abused at home for not being good enough or for even more arbitrary reasons.
Coupled with modelling from this childhood that taught him that the way to handle a situtation like that is to lash out and cut people off, we have a recipe for disasters like yesterday. But he's not his mother; she will cut off one of her children for a year and refuse to speak to them. She will toss husbands out on their ears, only to regret it later, but then refuse to make ammends.
Snake is not his mother, and that's why we had Christmas. And that's why today was a gentle, rolling day of peace and rest. And that is why I have to be brave and strong when he's hurting that bad and keep climbing back in the ring to speak slow, calm sense to his injured pride. And that's why a puppy's big red tongue licking a dead-sad face is the greatest gift imaginable.
So, do you want to hear my presents?
• awesome Birkenstock sandals to replace my cheap, dog-chewed slippers from Snake
• comfy boxer shorts from Toutou
• Airborn from
appelle• home-made pickles from my supervisor at work
And, best of all...
• The magnificent Locas collection by Jaime Hernandez, the greatest cartoonist of late-20th Century America - from Snake and Toutou
This is my 16th Christmas; my first was in 1988 in a wood-heated cabin on an icebound lake with my sweet Snake. Occassional tumult is the price we pay.
