I believe I'm really emotionally intelligent. I haven't been tested or anything. But it seems pretty likely.

I had a fairly manipulative & abusive boyfriend once, who had a great fear of emotions. He spent a lot of time telling me I was overly sensitive & overly emotional. It's weird how someone I knew for a few years a decade ago could still effect me so much today.

He liked to notice things I was good at. Compliment & flatter me. Try the thing out. Get me to help him learn how to do it. & then get really good at it. He was super intelligent. Most things were excessively easy for him. He'd spin it how lucky I was to be with such an intelligent guy. Once he got better at the thing than I was, which usually only took a few weeks, he'd show off. Tell me how easy it was. He'd laugh at me if I got frustrated.

Nobody liked him much. Because he was a jerk. & condescending. & afraid of emotions. I remember one time he was going on about how he was a better writer than I was. & we got into one of our typically epic fights. & I said at some point "you're pretty smart. But there are some ways I am smarter than you. & you can try all you want, you'll never beat me in those areas." & he laughed & said "yeah, right. Like what areas? Because whatever you're thinking I'm smarter in that area too." 

& maybe he was right. But I doubt it.

"Take me by the hand & tell me you would take me anywhere." Tegan & Sara

Who is the hero in my story? I've been torn for a while now. I'm trying to be my own hero. Pull myself up by my bootstraps. Slay depression. Gain back what is lost. Inspire the world. Change something for the better.

I used to imagine some character popping into my life & bringing me on all sorts of adventures. I used to want that brave impulsive creative friend always getting me in trouble. I wanted to be a vicarious hero I suppose. The Gus to somebody's Shawn Spencer. 

Because I swear I have all this power for good somewhere in me. I swear my heart is impulsive & mighty & wonderfully breakable & regenerative. 

But I feel paralyzed when I try to decide where to go with it.

& I've been so lonely. I know how much my life could change in a day. I've got amazing friends all over the country. Somebody will come along someday & it'll just click & we'll laugh & talk & do all the things that I miss.

But things aren't so bad right now. & I can't sit around waiting for them to appear. I guess we all want to change the world. I just want to live a life that matters in some small measure.

"I met the wolf alone/ and was devoured in peace." Edna St. Vincent Millay

What is it that keeps me coming back to the wolf? Even my husband, I was drawn to him initially because he struck me as a wolf in sheep's clothing.

There's this moment in Moonstruck: I seen a wolf in everybody I met, and I see a wolf in YOU! 

For me, the wolf is that in us which is still wild. It's not good or bad. It's wild. It's a wolf. It might hurt you. It might amaze you. You might try to cage it up. But it will still howl.

My wolf is, among other things, a writer. I've been away from blogging for a while now. My wolf was sleeping for a while. Or gnawing on the same old bones hoping for a bit of sustenance. Or growing silently & practicing it's howl in a lonely forest. 

& I thought I was happier that way. But I wasn't. I wasn't my whole self. I was broken. Self-suppressed. Afraid. 

I still am. But my wolf is back. I am back. This is where you'll find me. To some extent. If you'd care to.