Ponderings

There are so many things I wish for but don't know how to obtain. I worry that he isn't happy. I worry that he regrets choosing me as a mate. I look in the mirror and wonder if he sees the same person that I see. What does he see? How does he feel? I really don't know. When I ask, I feel like it is lip service--just his opinion of what he thinks I would like to hear. Have I always been so filled with doubt? I do not know. Mayhaps.

I know that he would like me to laugh and smile more. Sometimes I think I do not know how. I am sure that he would like to hear joy in my voice as opposed to the constant drone that I am. I wish these things for myself, also. I know that I struggle with depression on a daily basis and that I am often flat. It is hard to live with; I face my own reflection.

I would love to be smiles and rainbows, but it feels false when I try. I guess sometimes I find her, hidden in the gloom--but it is a side he rarely gets to glimpse. She lives in water and moonlight; she emerges when exploring new territory; she is mother nature's child and is not likely to be glimpsed within man-made walls. If perchance she does emerge, it is with mischief and pranks, a side he seems to curl away from.

Despite our compatibility, we are still very different. He is very intellectual, which my soul has craved and begged for in a man since day one of my existence. Yet, I fear I let him down on my end. He is up-to-date on current events and such. I am so far removed that I could not even tell you what is playing in the theaters at the moment and if you tried to tell me, I wouldn't know who any of the actors or actresses even were. He is video games and technology. I have bonded with my wii fit; but otherwise, beyond the original Nintendo I never stepped. He is loving and giving of himself. I belong on a deserted island with my books.

Yet I hear in him, some of myself. I know he has been wounded by love, but he still openly gives again and again. I will, at times, ask him questions seeking an honest answer and he pauses and chooses his words as one who has fallen into word traps in the past. Other times, he responds as though my statement was only to entice words of love or praise from him. From these little things that he is most likely unaware, a pause here, a break there--I feel his scars under the surface. I seek no games. Yet he treads as if expecting landmines. Have I caused this damage or is this his own carry-over? I can not quite tell.

Communication is such a difficult task with any human, it seems. So often, I have felt as though my words have been twisted and misused, tainted by interpretation in brains expecting different messages or preferring different ones than I set forth. Truly, we speak expecting to be understood, but how often is our message truly received as we intended? 75% of the time? 50% of the time? I guess much depends on the individual on the receiving end. Some of my friends understand without me uttering a word; others, no matter how I spell it out, seem to speak a foreign language.

I must confess, this was not the direction that I set forth on. It is odd how I begin these with something on my mind and finish with something entirely different when I look back at it. I came on here with praise and love for my current fellow. He amazes me day-in and-day-out. He is patient beyond any other I have ever met. He is perfect for me in so many ways and I never fathomed that I could love a partner as I love him--but yet I worry. Do I please him in return? Is he happy? And if I were a good partner, would I not know the answers to such?

I fear that I am selfish to his selflessness. I fear that I am melancholy to his sunshine. I fear that I am steampunk to his cybergeek. I fear that I am the wind and the trees to his walls and floors. I fear that he must be frustrated. I fear that he must regret this union. I fear that it is not possible to love me. I fear loving him and being hurt. I fear losing him. Daily, I fear. What if he is in an accident? Would he know how I felt about him? Would I ever be able to move on without him? I know it sounds sick, co-dependent, just wrong on all levels.

I am independent. I am a hermit. Destined to be a spinster without the cats. How did he get in? How is it that I worship the ground he walks on? How is that healthy? How do I not let it freak me the heys out? I don't feel worthy of someone like him. Too good to be true. That scares me, too. I think mayhaps we grow accustomed to love hurting and breaking us--or mayhaps we become accustomed to life pulling the rug out from under us as soon as we feel comfortable.

Not to say that it is all sunshine and roses, but well, on this end, it truly mostly is...

How do I compete with that? How can I even be half of what he is to me? I never dreamed that I would find someone like him. Now that I have, how do I step up to meet him? Is this part of finding one that fits? An aching desire to be the best you can be? Don't get me wrong, I regularly attempt to better myself and strive to reach my full-potential in life--but this is on a different level. These are parts of myself I thought were okay--but now, I am not sure.

I guess it changes when there is no ability to retreat--to heal and gain energy--he sees me in all states--there can be no mask. No facade. He's sees me as the naked, vulnerable human that I am. Day-in, day-out--he sees me. In my irritability. In my waves of confusion. In my sorrow. In my many moods; he is there. How can one not feel intimidated when they are beside one that seems strong as a rock? I pray that I can be the better person that I aspire to be--for both of us. I pray that he can ride out the wave I am until then...

Trust

I know we aren't supposed to blame our current partners for things past partners have done, but how do we freely give trust and of ourselves when so many have crushed and manipulated us in the past? I really could use an answer here.

For six years, I lived with one who hit me on a regular basis. He also had difficulties with being faithful. He would simply leave out little details--"Oh just the guys and I tonight, I know you have lots of schoolwork, so I'll catch up with you later. Love you." Later, I would find out that he omitted one simple piece of the equation--the other flavor of the week. Sometimes he wouldn't come home for days. Sometimes he would call and there would be giggling in the background. Sometimes he would have scratches on his back and other odd places--"Oh, those must be from when Bill got his Jeep stuck." It wasn't that I was stupid. It wasn't that I didn't know he cheated on a regular basis. I didn't have proof and he denied cheating.

My two year fellow, that ended with a three year PFA, was even worse. He would blatantly flirt with any other female in our presence and cut me down the entire time. That was my fault; I should have never tolerated such treatment. But he was flirtatious by nature and I tried to get used to it, much as it hurt. And with that alone, maybe I could have eventually adapted. What stung the most was the ex-girlfriend that he claimed was still "just a good friend." He even persuaded me to befriend her since she was such an important part of his life and "such a good person." Good people don't befriend the new girlfriend while still sleeping with the boyfriend they cast away--or do they? I don't know anymore. That entire relationship was a web of lies. But again, he denied cheating and convinced me that I was paranoid.

Not that they were the only ones that cheated. Many of my relationships ended because of such. Often, the "other woman" was one of my friends. So I guess there is a double slam there and extra added trust issues, but it is reality, is it not? I know we all have our battle wounds here. So again, I ask, how do we freely give our trust? Especially when we started out trusting the others and ignored the little voice telling us that something wasn't right? How do we trust when the little voice is no longer intuition but just lingering residue of badness?

Emotional scars are the worst, in my opinion. It seems they never truly heal. Perhaps that is because the new people in life, more often than not, not only tear open the old wound but add their own fancy design to the work. I want to trust. I want to relax and not make myself crazy. But it is so much easier said than done. The fortress around my heart still exists, no matter how much I try to melt it. I don't believe this one would hurt me, but I didn't believe it of the others either...