My mate has successfully received the transfer of stomach love that I have given him. He lies in bed, recovering from a mild day before of annoying pains and sweats that kept him from fiddling around with his plants, but did allow him to do anything that absolutely needed to be done. I also had this preferable version of the gift that keeps on giving. I went to work last Friday with it and worked the day, decided it best not to eat and hey, Barry Manilow…I made it throoooough the Pain!
Only to come home and collapse into bed with one single notice: Please take care of everything else….I just need be left alone to die with my pains. Then I’ll be ok.
And ok I was and he will be too.
After sending a crimp-haired Humanling off to school for picture day, I crawled back into bed with my mate to snuggle up and try and restore some energy for the day. Last night we decided to make that 3rd cup of coffee at 9:30pm in order to enjoy time longer. We enjoyed. I played Farmville and did some brush up work for today’s radio show, he played his kenken puzzles online (http://www.kenken.com/).
As we snuggled, I drifted in and out of thoughts…well needed reflections. I thought of how a little over a year ago, my mate slept with his arm around me all night long, no matter how dead and useless the limb had become from lack of circulation. A wonderful gesture, although I don’t wish him discomfort. I thought it was Knightly, romantic. I moved in and will admit that when you crash dive into an ocean at night, you can’t always tell where the shallow water is, nor how jagged the rocks.
Within a month or two of moving in, I slowly realized….this isn’t exactly what I thought. The things that I was ok with, he wasn’t. I don’t mean he was ‘nah’ wasn’t….he REALLY wasn’t. Life Lesson Severity kind of wasn’t.
He was way more angry and militant about things than I had thought….in fact, I hadn’t thought this a matter at all. Didn’t realize it existed. Slowly, my self-worth and self-esteem were swirling into a boil of questions. When they finally emerged, they had cooled off only to become hardened like iron. My emotional rebellion.
My mate is a wonderful man…loyal as they come. Can cook insanely well…to the point where you find yourself requesting favorites. He’s a perfectionist. I like to have flaws. I like flaws to be cute, endearing, unique. Kind of identifying almost, like that little Eggo Waffle campaign they did years ago where they left the variating batter pieces on the outside so you could identify your waffle from your brother’s. I have figured out that around here, flaws are something to be fixed. They aren’t cute. They are complaints. Faults. Faults seem to be the formal Tuxedo version of Flaws. Flaws rather enjoy a grungy outfit while Faults stand out in patent leather.
I didn’t realize that I would be with someone who when mixed with my anger alchemy, fight so nasty. Would make me feel as though my head was about to burst since I would be told that I wasn’t remembering events of the argument correctly, that I was rewriting the history. I learned that although I never thought it was ok to pull from prior arguments, this relationship was going to prove to me that nothing is sacred in that vein. Prior issues with certified apologies will snowball from the current topic of hell and no matter how often I show apologetic receipt, there is no fending it off until it is ready to temporarily die again. I have found that it seems that I am told that all arguments are mostly my fault. That I hold the key to allowing these creatures to run amok and frequently must be sleepwalking with key in hand. I have discovered my new defensive mechanism in the form of apologizing, whether or not I believe in it, to derail the chugging train off its tracks of insanity so that I may have some peace. I have learned that although I may follow the former sentence and apologize, it is a crapshoot. The train doesn’t always derail. Sometimes an apology is merely fuel for a faster ride.
I have also come to find out that My Jekyll during an argument does not usually allow pause enough for another person to speak. I’ve been schooled in the art of talking/arguing/shouting without much of a break for periods of time I never thought possible.
My mate is and can be quite wonderful. But everyone comes with their baggage. His landmines left by former acquaintances, family members and exes, are everywhere and I can’t quite avoid them, even when floating. I might say something quite neutral or even as a compliment and not realize that I have now sledge hammered another discreetly set trap. I’ve no experience with this kind of set up.
These things can really break a person’s mind down into various questions…..have I always started arguments? Did I really start this one? Are my points really invalid? Am I really turning things around or is he? Do I really have these specific issues that he is pinning on me because it seems like he has them…? How come I haven’t had these issues with other people? How come none of my previous arguments with my previous significant others went like this and with these problems? Am I looking deep enough into myself? Why can’t I think anymore? Why am I going numb during these? Am I really difficult? Is he? If I dialed up his exes, would they tell me their question list and would it include these very ones?
Why is it so difficult to communicate at times….something innocent and non-threatening sounds to the other person like its wrapped in a Tone or has a critical bite to it?
A year ago I found so many things were not as they seemed, while many other things were also rather nice surprises. I suppose that I could say, That’s Life. Surprises all over.
As I lie there in his arms, my mind moved to one month ago. One month ago we had probably the worst fight we’ve ever had. One that includes back up for possible relocation separately. It was a rough time and neither of us have completely left it behind yet. There have been plenty of hand holding moments, intimate dalliances together, meals cooked and sadness and celebratory happenings.
So I focused on the present moment. What does THIS feel like? Let me open my eyes and look up at him from where I lay on his chest. What do I see….what do I feel?
I feel as though I have taken myself away and attempted to build a lonely bomb shelter. His arm feels sweet around me. When it is there, I know it is there meaningfully. Mine isn’t an overly affectionate lapdog, waiting to use all his time to pet. So when I do his feel hand on me or his arm around me, I know it is deliberate. That feels good.
He feels that I don’t like him, but I do. I lost who I was in the last year….have become angry and confused as to what my roles were as self appointment and what they are one year later. I am basically wading through a dirty puddle and can’t see the bottom, no matter how shallow.
So what have I done? I’ve decided to be proactive and figure out who I am. I have written a list of things that I want to learn everything about. My interests will lead the way. A blog is to follow soon…more details down the road….short or long.
In the meantime, I will love my sometimes difficult relationship and try to remember how to live with love instead of having to constantly look for how I may have been shaped by my willingness to give up pieces of myself to please another. I will love him, but I will love him as myself, not the person who thinks she will gets along better with him if I do/don’t/say this or that. I’m sure if I get my soul to take a nice cat stretch and be silent for a bit on my sun spot on the rug, I will emerge in joy.
Only to come home and collapse into bed with one single notice: Please take care of everything else….I just need be left alone to die with my pains. Then I’ll be ok.
And ok I was and he will be too.
After sending a crimp-haired Humanling off to school for picture day, I crawled back into bed with my mate to snuggle up and try and restore some energy for the day. Last night we decided to make that 3rd cup of coffee at 9:30pm in order to enjoy time longer. We enjoyed. I played Farmville and did some brush up work for today’s radio show, he played his kenken puzzles online (http://www.kenken.com/).
As we snuggled, I drifted in and out of thoughts…well needed reflections. I thought of how a little over a year ago, my mate slept with his arm around me all night long, no matter how dead and useless the limb had become from lack of circulation. A wonderful gesture, although I don’t wish him discomfort. I thought it was Knightly, romantic. I moved in and will admit that when you crash dive into an ocean at night, you can’t always tell where the shallow water is, nor how jagged the rocks.
Within a month or two of moving in, I slowly realized….this isn’t exactly what I thought. The things that I was ok with, he wasn’t. I don’t mean he was ‘nah’ wasn’t….he REALLY wasn’t. Life Lesson Severity kind of wasn’t.
He was way more angry and militant about things than I had thought….in fact, I hadn’t thought this a matter at all. Didn’t realize it existed. Slowly, my self-worth and self-esteem were swirling into a boil of questions. When they finally emerged, they had cooled off only to become hardened like iron. My emotional rebellion.
My mate is a wonderful man…loyal as they come. Can cook insanely well…to the point where you find yourself requesting favorites. He’s a perfectionist. I like to have flaws. I like flaws to be cute, endearing, unique. Kind of identifying almost, like that little Eggo Waffle campaign they did years ago where they left the variating batter pieces on the outside so you could identify your waffle from your brother’s. I have figured out that around here, flaws are something to be fixed. They aren’t cute. They are complaints. Faults. Faults seem to be the formal Tuxedo version of Flaws. Flaws rather enjoy a grungy outfit while Faults stand out in patent leather.
I didn’t realize that I would be with someone who when mixed with my anger alchemy, fight so nasty. Would make me feel as though my head was about to burst since I would be told that I wasn’t remembering events of the argument correctly, that I was rewriting the history. I learned that although I never thought it was ok to pull from prior arguments, this relationship was going to prove to me that nothing is sacred in that vein. Prior issues with certified apologies will snowball from the current topic of hell and no matter how often I show apologetic receipt, there is no fending it off until it is ready to temporarily die again. I have found that it seems that I am told that all arguments are mostly my fault. That I hold the key to allowing these creatures to run amok and frequently must be sleepwalking with key in hand. I have discovered my new defensive mechanism in the form of apologizing, whether or not I believe in it, to derail the chugging train off its tracks of insanity so that I may have some peace. I have learned that although I may follow the former sentence and apologize, it is a crapshoot. The train doesn’t always derail. Sometimes an apology is merely fuel for a faster ride.
I have also come to find out that My Jekyll during an argument does not usually allow pause enough for another person to speak. I’ve been schooled in the art of talking/arguing/shouting without much of a break for periods of time I never thought possible.
My mate is and can be quite wonderful. But everyone comes with their baggage. His landmines left by former acquaintances, family members and exes, are everywhere and I can’t quite avoid them, even when floating. I might say something quite neutral or even as a compliment and not realize that I have now sledge hammered another discreetly set trap. I’ve no experience with this kind of set up.
These things can really break a person’s mind down into various questions…..have I always started arguments? Did I really start this one? Are my points really invalid? Am I really turning things around or is he? Do I really have these specific issues that he is pinning on me because it seems like he has them…? How come I haven’t had these issues with other people? How come none of my previous arguments with my previous significant others went like this and with these problems? Am I looking deep enough into myself? Why can’t I think anymore? Why am I going numb during these? Am I really difficult? Is he? If I dialed up his exes, would they tell me their question list and would it include these very ones?
Why is it so difficult to communicate at times….something innocent and non-threatening sounds to the other person like its wrapped in a Tone or has a critical bite to it?
A year ago I found so many things were not as they seemed, while many other things were also rather nice surprises. I suppose that I could say, That’s Life. Surprises all over.
As I lie there in his arms, my mind moved to one month ago. One month ago we had probably the worst fight we’ve ever had. One that includes back up for possible relocation separately. It was a rough time and neither of us have completely left it behind yet. There have been plenty of hand holding moments, intimate dalliances together, meals cooked and sadness and celebratory happenings.
So I focused on the present moment. What does THIS feel like? Let me open my eyes and look up at him from where I lay on his chest. What do I see….what do I feel?
I feel as though I have taken myself away and attempted to build a lonely bomb shelter. His arm feels sweet around me. When it is there, I know it is there meaningfully. Mine isn’t an overly affectionate lapdog, waiting to use all his time to pet. So when I do his feel hand on me or his arm around me, I know it is deliberate. That feels good.
He feels that I don’t like him, but I do. I lost who I was in the last year….have become angry and confused as to what my roles were as self appointment and what they are one year later. I am basically wading through a dirty puddle and can’t see the bottom, no matter how shallow.
So what have I done? I’ve decided to be proactive and figure out who I am. I have written a list of things that I want to learn everything about. My interests will lead the way. A blog is to follow soon…more details down the road….short or long.
In the meantime, I will love my sometimes difficult relationship and try to remember how to live with love instead of having to constantly look for how I may have been shaped by my willingness to give up pieces of myself to please another. I will love him, but I will love him as myself, not the person who thinks she will gets along better with him if I do/don’t/say this or that. I’m sure if I get my soul to take a nice cat stretch and be silent for a bit on my sun spot on the rug, I will emerge in joy.
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