There’s something about NewGuy and I that we simply can’t just have a weekend to ourselves. We always have to share, with deep things, hard things, and interesting stuff. Like. Forever. (Among other deep things)
How is it you make relationships work? We’re going so fast skipping through all the “How do I tell him I was in a bad relationship” aspect. Or hiding things to try and save each other’s feelings. Instead we do the rational thing and talk about it, and talk, and cry, and talk, and cry and lose sleep. How is it you make a relationship work? Because sooner or later my smile isn’t going to be the thing that makes him smile. We won’t always have constant butterflies, at what point will these cute puppy dog things wear off and become real? Who’s to say though, that what we have is not real just because it is cute, and will it wear off or will we always be able to look at each other and smile? What happens when we stop thinking like the honeymoon couple and start thinking like the old couple sitting on the bench? How do you become that old couple? Why is it so scary losing him? I love him so much and I can’t image anyone else spending *gulp* forever with. Just… What if…? And, How? How does this work?
Went something like this…
Me: NewGuy you just don’t understand. For years it’s been me. Sure I have my sister, and Margie, and others but it’s been me. Everyone knew I went through my own stuff I didn’t talk about things I didn’t need help. Then you. You come and you hold me, you hug me, and you love me. *Starts to cry* You tell me that everything’s okay. You tell me it’s not my fault. You tell me I’m beautiful.
Communication between us.
Me: I’m okay I’m just sad I’m leaving, and I never expected to find someone like you. To be treated the way you treat me. It’s good NewGuy. It’s scary lovinging someone and giving you so much trust, but I love you.
NewGuy: It’s suppose to be scary. It’s suppose to be new and exciting. You know I love you right?
Me: *slowly tears fall down my face again and I nodd as he reaches for me*
How did I get so lucky?
I’ve been really busy lately, working two jobs, missing the boyfriend, working at home, chores, and other life things that I haven’t had time to write about this blog. That and for the time being I just want to celebrate all the good things in my life. I am afraid I don’t do that enough, therefore here are a list of a lot of excellent things I have in my life.
A growing wardrobe that I love.
A growing wardrobe of hippie items.
Size six pants, that I don’t feel fat in.
A flight to Ireland in January.
A retreat with my church in early fall.
Great friends keeping in touch with me.
A creative writing project that is still blossoming.
Plans. I have plans.
I have someone who loves me. For exactly. Who I am.
I have family that is chaotic and well a lot of them.
I have talent in the kitchen, and the patience to let it grow.
I have caring siblings.
I have a celebration for life.
Life. Is. Good.
More to come…
For so much. I use to beg for strength. Strength to wake up in the morning, and strength to keep going. I begged for strength to find an understanding. I begged. Bawled my eyes out and let go.
When I think about it. About Steve, my throat tightens. My stomache churns and my entire body wants to pull itself into the smallest ball I can create. Completely aware of every part of my body because it’s close to me. Part of me wants to scream and the other part wants to cry. Part of me pushes it away and the other part can’t let go. I wish he was just a fleeting thought, but sometimes it sticks and the rest of my body follows and stays and suddenly I’m three years ago on a new yellow couch and a bright pink polo losing pieces of myself.
Of dying early. Because well here’s my philosophy.
My life has been.. filled. With great people. Great feats. Adventures and challenges. I had a grandmother who loved me to her dying day, and I was present at her dying day holding her hand and sending her on her way with love. I have learned how to remain close with my family no matter how far away they travel. I have been tested in strength, morals, and I have learned the right love and the wrong. I’ve traveled to Canada and found my inner hippie on a mountain becoming an environmentalist. I went to Mexico to help children, and learned more about my life.
I think that god (or who ever) is filling my life as much as possible because it’s going to be cut short. There’s been so much I’ve learned and so much, done so much. More things than people my age normally go through, work through, see and do. And normally I am 100% okay with my idea of things being cut short. Except. Well. I want a future. I want more. I want things to keep coming. I want this everyday, because today he made my day with a phone call:
I called because I wanted you to know I love you so much and I miss you.
I know you he or she who is upstairs. I get that you are in control. I get that as much as I think I’m in control of my own life I’m really not, but things were going pretty good. And I know I complained because I’m not use to the good, but please let this be a really scarey scare and not another big challenge. But if it is well you know how every week I run through my list of everyone I’m worried about and then I ask you for strength. Well. Can you double that order of strength.
Chin up Chest out. You’ll be fine.
More news to come.
3/4 Cup of Aged Pain
A pinch of 3 Years Doubt of Worth
Take Out all Self Worth
Mix in Life’s kicks when you’re down
Plus the age old being a girl doubts.
Creates a living pain of looking in anything reflective. Sometimes I just wish I could cut myself a break and see what everyone else sees. Instead of just watching myself deteriorate. I guess today I just wish I had the strength to stand up for myself.
I decided I just wish I could stop all the bad and bringing up the bad. Likewise I was reminded today at work of the stereotypes I use to fit into just because people didn’t know me. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to where I was comfortable instead of having to visit my same haunts and shit. For real? Wasn’t it long enough?
I guess that’s why every Sunday, all I ask for is strength. At least for myself.
I started holding onto the things that are important to me. The little things. Today I used my grandma’s scissors and made something. From scratch. For someone else. So far. So good.