Fight or Flight

For those unfamiliar with the above title, fight or flight is an amazing concept first observed and documented by Walter Cannon. To completely copy-and-paste from Wikineedia, fight or flight is in essence “how animals react to threats with a general discharge of the sympathetic nervous system, priming the animal for fighting or fleeing.” Now, the big super obvious way of observing this is, zebra eats grass, zebra sees lion, lion sees zebra, zebra either craps itself and takes it, or starts his ass running. What is not so easy to observe is how we, as human (less lion fodder), attack our own scenarios. For me, lately, I flounder back and forth on both. I guess lately I’ve left myself wondering if that’s necessarily a bad thing. In certain areas at least, sticking it out and trying something different, fighting your own instincts if you will, seems like a good idea. The downside is it is mentally exhausting. Incredibly exhausting actually. After 35 years of fighting for let’s say, what your heart wants, you realize that for your own personal health, it’s time to stop the fight. Ohio, was both a Fight and Flee response for me. Philly had officially kicked my ass, and rather than sit there with my carcass getting picked at, I fled to fight another day. It was an unnatural move for me. I broke every comfort zone I had ever known, and walked into this wonderful ponderosa. Ever since then I’ve been a virtual yes man, giving in to every challenge asked of me. Ben and I became explorers in a foreign land. My life became an act of fighting, as opposed to a literal one. The heart and body began to heal as I broke my own personal norms. As far as norms go, I can also say every relationship I’ve come across here in the Oh, hi is also not exactly normal. Or what modern #firstworld society would consider normal. I suppose that’s what makes the search so interesting. Interesting but lonely. I’ve been catfished (x2) by some, ignored by others, overanalyzed by the polyamourus, and ignored by the monogomists. I can’t spell either of those things, but one thing is for sure, I think for my own personal well-being, I am giving up “the search” as it goes. So my fight, for love, will now be constantly fleeing. The real trick here, is to not turn into my grandmother.My grandmother is alone. A lot of family members have a lot to say about her. Some rather colorful adjectives in fact. There’s two things that scare me right now, that align me with her. A. She gave up on relationships long ago. It was her choice and I’ll be damned if she didn’t have the discipline and resolve to stick with it. This resulted in B. her alienating loved ones because she “fleed” from a loving relationship. G-ma is brash, she speaks without caring about consequence (something I’ve had a knack for since youth), and quite frankly, she is mean. Even her dog is mean, ironically named Buddy, that little fucker sure isn’t yours. So my trick in abandoning Eros, maybe even Venus and a share of Storge, is to not turn into grandma. I think I am going to try to fill that little void with Agape. Diving into charity work and really helping others like I intended in grad school. Yup. That’s where I’ll build my house. Now, my list of exes is, ex-stensive (see what I did there?), and I have done my fair share to add them to that wonderful list. Truth is, I am tired of adding pages. For the wrong people I’ve tried to be something I’m not, and for the right ones I simply didn’t have the resolve and did wrong by you. Either way, I hurt myself. So for that, I start running. Now.

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