movie recommendation

We went to see Let the Right One In yesterday at the Tara, and I was very pleasantly surprised. You may not know this, but I'm a huge wimp when it comes to horror movies (something about not knowing how to let go into the "fun" of fear, and not having the presumed sense of safety that comes from differentiating the "real" world from the extra-normal world of monsters), but a couple of reviews convinced me that there was probably enough of a positive portrayal of outsiders and outcasts to get me over the uncomfortable parts. Surprisingly, there were. I was completely won over, in large part by the visual aesthetic, the spareness, and the eyes of Lina Leandersson, which were the subject of frequent close-ups. It may be too slow or not horror enough for some, but I was surprised to be charmed amidst the blood and death.

a search for something better

I've been going through a rough patch the past several months, and honestly, this will likely continue for an undetermined time. I've been trying very hard to figure out how to interact with others, with the world, with myself in ways that aren't damaging to any party, and are hopefully positive and respectful. Unsurprisingly, this is rife with difficulty and problems, and I've been fighting a running border war with depression (lay usage, not clinical) because of it. It's been a lonely, sad period of time.

This isn't to deny the efforts or effects of the good people in my life, because I value such contact immensely. It's certainly not their fault that I'm lonely and sad. As odd as it is to consider this, maybe this is a time in which I need to experience this, go through it (though to what, I can't say). I've a sense that maybe this is something I have to get myself out of, and I'm slowly working on the how of that.

But part of the problem for me is that I need to talk things out, even if it's just me that's primarily doing the talking. That's not to say I need an audience for a series of monologues or soliloquies, because I need an active surface with which to interact. I'm not good at talking like this with my friends (though it may seem like all I ever do is talk about myself to some of them, some of the time). I have trouble getting to the heart of what's on my mind, in part because I feel guilty about making myself such the sole subject of conversation, in part because it's work for me to expose myself so openly; it doesn't come easily, it scares me, and sometimes it's very easy to assume that I'll never get to the work at hand because of the amount of background material, the need to synchronize trajectories and rotational velocity. I am wary of abusing the generosity of others in regards to time and attention, and also very wary of how frustrated I get (with myself, primarily, but that isn't always clear to others) when things aren't coming out in a way that can be understood by another. History suggests people don't like to be around me when I'm frustrated like that.

It's discouraging to realize my therapist of years isn't equipped to help me with this. I have no doubt that she wishes nothing but the best for me, but this feels beyond her capacity. It was very important in her regard that I have someone with whom I could talk more like I thought without having to stop and connect the dots all the time, and she did that, well, but I need... something else, now, probably something more personal, more directed, less ... taken with what I can do, with how I can do it, more willing to help me get to somewhere I need to go but don't know how to get to.

I have this need, and I don't know how to fill it. I suppose this is my silent confessional. I'm not sure what I intend to gain by putting this out into the sliver of the world with which I have contact. Maybe it's just something to get it out of just me, but if it is, it's still not enough, not yet.