Thursday, 24 September 2015

The Risk Exchange

Really interesting article I read in last night. I've been thinking about it all day. For people like me who actually couldn't spot a functional human being if he was the only person standing in the Namib desert, I thought this may help me notice some Red Flags in the early stages of a relationship. It's about how people deal 'risk' with each other. Check it out at

So I realise that I am owning too much of the risk early in a potential relationship. I put myself out there, and when my men don't reciprocate with equal disclosure I feel terrible. Vulnerable. Exposed. Heartsore. And then blame myself. And then tell myself to dial it back a bit. Or a lot. And if he gives me something vulnerable, I hold it. Cherish it. Reciprocate carefully so he doesn't ever feel that horrible exposed and vulnerable feeling I have a lot. I protect him from that. Because I know how dreadful it feels. Maybe I risk too much too early? Yes, I'm sure I risk too much too early. I need to be more careful about that.

And I suppose that people who risk too much scare those who risk too little. But there I go again, owning all of the responsibility. And actually I think I should be asking the question - 'What ASSHOLE would let me hang out to dry like that?!' And the answer is, of course, the Assholes that I keep choosing, keep being drawn to.

And if hanging me out to dry by leaving me to carry all the emotional risk is a criterion for Asshole, then I guess I've chosen a whole pile of them in the past year. Stellenbosch Banker? Yes. Mark? Yes. Berlin? Yes. Bush man? Not really - he was pretty clear. Tasmanian? Yes and no. Charlie Harper? FUCK YES. The CEO? Another FUCK YES.

And Red? Yes. Finally yes. Yes I am prepared to say that Red has to go under the Asshole column. I don't want him under that column. I want the Red that I met at first: the full on, enthusiastic, open, passionate man who swept me off my feet even in my reluctance, and won my heart! But that's not the Red I have now. The Red I have now is Asshole Red. The Red who will, like the others, let me carry the emotional risk and leave me vulnerable, heartbroken, grieving and sad. And will ask me to keep in touch, and when I do, just let me blow out there in the wind.

I sent him this. My open-hearted truth in all its glory. Vulnerable. Raw. Honest.

22/09/2015, 6:54 PM - Trudy: So how does it work?  How does one be 'half' in something?
No answer.

Next morning:
23/09/2015, 7:52 AM - Trudy: I'm trying to imagine how that might feel. And all I can come up with is 'mediocre'. Because when you're holding yourself back to protect your heart in a situation like that surely your life experience is muted. Greyed out.
23/09/2015, 7:53 AM - Trudy: Bland.
23/09/2015, 7:54 AM - Trudy: Like looking at a table of magnificent food and choosing just the leek soup because there may be an unpleasant taste in one of the dishes hitherto unexplored.
23/09/2015, 7:57 AM - Trudy: There are so many things I've held back on in my life. Mostly physical risk things that my hubby and kids do and I'm too afraid. They relish those moments. I hold their cokes and jerseys. Muted and grey. Because I'm afraid.
23/09/2015, 7:59 AM - Trudy: Weird.  I'm terrified of physical risk. And I hold myself back from that. But emotional risk. ... Not so much. There I want to be wholehearted. Open and free. Rich and beautiful.
23/09/2015, 8:01 AM - Trudy: The risk is huge. Heartbreak. Sadness.  Loss. Grief. I've felt them all deeply before. I'll feel them again I'm sure.
23/09/2015, 8:03 AM - Trudy: But I want that magnificence that comes from loving wholeheartedly. Being safe enough to let go and relish the sheer joy,  however fleeting,  that comes with that.

He read it.

Didn't respond.

Still hasn't.


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