I just took a quiz on my readiness to embark on or otherwise "handle" the treacherous waters that can be a relationship. I didn't even understand the results. Or. Rather. They weren't obvious, conclusive, bite-you-in-the-face results. I almost prefer the more stereotypical and blunt Cosmo-style (*bullshit), totally predictable, (*bullshit) results that lock you into a box. I had to wade through the various "sections" to figure out my results. I need it a little more spelled out for me than that. I hate searching around the lines and having to put it together myself. Mainly because I'm impatient. But mostly because I hate concentrating, too.
Anyway, it got me thinking. The stupid quiz. The questions were lined out such that I had occasion to reflect on both my strengths AND my utterly hot and touchy points. I took the quiz merely and only out of sick, morbid curiosity. I usually hate them. They're so cheesy. And how could some blank, standardized, impersonal, non-human, black-and-white pot shot tell ME how I am? It can't. It can't sit there and tell you in a relate-able way that yeah, those years of playing nurse to a cancer-stricken hubby three times in a year and a half with small children in a new world with no redemption and psycho aunts (all of which were super traumatizing to an immature 21-year-old) sucks really bad. It can't soothe the pain of falling out of love with a gorgeous, culture-riffic man who couldn't find the help he needed before the relationship imploded on itself. It can't lend understanding to why you put up those walls, drew boundaries, or pulled some shit stunt.
But it can, and did, just provoke reflection, if not irritation. Just the concept alone, the title of this post (which is already too pukey to reiterate) invokes a big, grudgey, eye-rolling groan because I have, I do stress, always been able to pull my shit together. I just haven't always been able to get there in a rational way. . .
So. The provocation and irritation was good. I learned stuff.