Today was a good day. Did some yoga. Did some work. Read a bunch of pages for class. And while it was a good day, it would have been better if I had just focused on that.
I am waiting. Waiting for him to come home. Waiting for him to give me what I need. And I don't know how to explain to him what I need. It isn't because he is gone. It is always like this. Waiting for him to get it. I need him to share more with me. I'm already cut out of his work- we don't talk about anything. But I accept that. But I need for him to give me more. He could of given me a card before he left. He has never given me a card. Ever. Maybe a letter or something of meaning. I wanted some recognition that here I am, waiting. I got him a card and printed out pictures of us. I send him care packages with lots of stuff. I made little cards with loving sayings or special stuff for every day of his deployment. A daily loving note. And I don't even get an email.
He has always made the decisions of what this relationship would be. It is clear as day. It has always been where he is in life, not about what I need at that time. Selfish. I see so many sides of it with my mind, but with my heart I see the hurt. I was watching this biography on Kendra- you know, the playboy mansion- and her now husband was saying how lucky he was to have her and just gushing. I just wish for a moment he would say those things. I had a dream that he got me a ring, but it wasn't the ring at all that I saw- it was him with just this overwhelming happiness. I just wanted him to be overwhelmingly happy to be with me.
The future is unknown. But one thing is for sure- it won't always be this way.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
The story of us
I feel compelled to tell the story of us...my thoughts are just asking to be put down into words. It is a form of release, I guess.
My old roomy and my current roomy, on the new 'it' street in the city after a show. My current roomy goes to bum a smoke, and I hear "I live in this neighborhood". Ears perk up- 'Then what bars should we go to?' I ask him. He, of course, is my future boo. And I had been looking for one...since January, I would throw the net out, give out my number, figuring you never know when you might run into that one that will stick. Well, neither of us knew he would stick. He definately wasn't looking for someone to stick- he had his career to consider. He was trying out for a special program in the military- and no female was going to interrupt that. But we knew none of that yet. His odds were good- 3 girls, 1 guy. He took us around bar to bar- getting drunker and drunker. Military. Of course. That is my type. What I remember is a sense of security- he made me feel safe by his presence, which is an odd thing since he was a stranger. Closing time- how did it happen but he started kissing me. An internal struggle erupted in my brain- don't kiss a stranger at the bar! He wanted us to come see his fireplace. The signal to leave! But before I did, I said, "don't you want my number?". It had never dawned on him, cause I was just some random girl at the bar, right? He put my number in his phone and sent me a text message. And us three girls caught a cab home.
The next day, Sunday. It was a gorgeous day, despite being early February. I sent him a text message thanking him for taking us around. And he took his opportunity. He picked me up and we headed down to the riverfront. He laid out a rug he had in his trunk and we talked. Then a museum. Then dinner. Six hours later he dropped me off at my house- no kiss, no sex, no alcohol. (the last one mostly cause he was hungover). Months later he would ask if I had noticed that he hadn't tried to kiss me, and of course, I said no. I told him I was busy for the next 2 weeks, especially since the next weekend was Valentine's Day- that could just get awkward quick.
I didn't call that week. He called. I counted it as a positive sign. On Valentine's he sent a text and said that if I was out to let him know and we could meet up. I said thanks, and that I was busy. Of course, I was busy. The next week I called, with intent. My next weekend was pretty busy, but I could add him to a party. So I asked him to go to a party- at the sister of my best gay friend's house. He picked me up, and I got very drunk. And I stayed the night at his house...
During this time, I had been sick- some strange symptoms. Finally, the doctor figured out I had a thyroid problem. The week after the party, I started having lung pain and got really sick with a cough, fever, etc. He thought that he had just given me a cold that had been passed around his work. He came over to take care of me- and stayed all weekend. It makes more sense when you figure that he is the medic for his team- and he has a deep desire to take care of people when they are sick. But the sickness didn't pass. The doctor gave me antibotics, but still I was coughing and sick. Months passed. Two and a half months later, my doctor tested me for mono- and it came back positive. Hypothyroid and mono at the same time.
We would spend most weekends together- unless he was gone for work. He always called me when he said he would- sometimes he would call me to tell me he would call me later because he was busy but he had told me he would call so he did. It was admirable. Things continued, months passed. I never once brought up what we were or where we were going- I could see he just wasn't there.I didn't meet his family. I wasn't really part of his life.
May came. With it the busyness of spring. He left for a trip. When he came back- pulled in directions by his dad being in town, going to out of state for the weekend, and my asking him to come by- he let it go. He blurted out, 'I can't do a relationship'. The words hung in the air, unmovable, unstoppable. Silence. He left to go out of town. I didn't figure he'd change his mind, I let him go his way...for a little bit. I tried dating someone else but all I wanted was his comfort. Like I fool, I went back. I remember laying on the back porch, in that moment, we were there. But our lack of a relationship had made our relationship push and pull. The words still hung their black clouds over me. It wasn't enough. I pushed. He pulled.
August came. I was coming back from a TDY. He called exactly as I was getting my bags off the belt- 3ish- could he pick me up? Sure, I don't pass up a free ride. I knew the day- this was the day he found out if he made the cut for his special project. It was a Thursday. We didn't say much, and then he finally said he lost his job. Clearly, he didn't lose his job, but he didn't make the program. He was upset, shocked, depressed. I took care of him- made sure he ate, let him talk. But the next day, I couldn't do it anymore. I had been biting my tongue. He said he needed to figure some things out by himself. I said I couldn't continue to do this. And I couldn't.
I made up my mind. I would take it to a crisis point and he would have to make the decision to leave or stay. I wanted to stay, so I couldn't make the decision to leave. He had to make it. I became distant. I became busy. I was hurting. He saw that, and he came over to talk. His decision was made. He couldn't do a relationship, not with his lifestyle, with the military. We talked for several hours- or really, he talked. I listened. He believed that we could still hang out- we would still be friends. Yes, someday I said, we will be friends, but I need my space to deal with this. As he was walking out the door, and my last hopes were dying, I told him that I loved him. He said he loved me too, but love wasn't enough. We parted ways.
He left his watch on the coffee table. I mailed it back to him. My friends say that he left it on purpose, to see me later. I didn't want to see him later, to pull up emotions that I had fought down. He didn't want to be with me- the reasons and whys didn't matter anymore. Just that one simple fact- we were done. I started the process of moving on. I deleted his number, started keeping really busy, cried alot. He called once at 3am- put I didn't answer or call back. It didn't matter what he wanted.
September. It sucked. I missed him, it was hard. I was making it...day by day. I went home. While I was there, I went to visit my grandmother's grave. It is the most peaceful, beautiful place. And I prayed. And talked to her. I said that I understood that if I had to let go, I would, but if there was anyway to make it better- that I loved him. I left it there, accepting that it wasn't going to be back together again.
October. He called. I watched the phone ring. It was a Wednesday. He called again, right after the first time! I watched the phone ring. I deleted the number again. Thursday I poured my eyes out- but I didn't call. I went to see my girlfriend- drinking that Saturday- and at 2am it struck me how much the guys in the room did not resemble him in character at all. While he tried to be a good person, they didn't. I found his number in my emails, and sent a text asking if there was something he needed by calling 2 times in a row. He responded instantly- that he had to make some decisions in his life and trusted my opinion, and that he missed me, but he understood if I wasn't ready to talk to him. And I called him. He actually did sound like he needed someone to talk to. I agreed to see him when I got back, even if it hurt me.
Monday. He came straight from his parents home in NY to my house. He wanted things to just be like they used to be, but he could see that they weren't. He said I didn't appear to have missed him, like I had just turned it off. He had made the decision, I reminded him. We wouldn't be together. For some reason, this was not the discussion I had thought we were going to have. I thought he wanted to talk about his life and his work. But instead he said he was willing to try. Try what? Oh. Try a relationship. I was in shock- in fact the next 2 days I was walking around in shock. I had no idea what had just happened and no idea how I felt about it. I was already in the process of letting him go...and now I was supposed to backtrack? He stayed with me, though I felt like I was suffocating. But the last thing I wanted to do was push him away. I said yes, we can try, because I knew that I loved him.
And things changed. Slowly. I met his family (well alot of them, anyway). He started calling me girlfriend, though it was hard for him to choke out. He learned to hold my hand. He became used to me calling him baby. I learned to cook Indian food for him. We went to Puerto Rico. We laughed. We have now been together 5 times longer than his only other relationship (which was in high school). We are learning.
My old roomy and my current roomy, on the new 'it' street in the city after a show. My current roomy goes to bum a smoke, and I hear "I live in this neighborhood". Ears perk up- 'Then what bars should we go to?' I ask him. He, of course, is my future boo. And I had been looking for one...since January, I would throw the net out, give out my number, figuring you never know when you might run into that one that will stick. Well, neither of us knew he would stick. He definately wasn't looking for someone to stick- he had his career to consider. He was trying out for a special program in the military- and no female was going to interrupt that. But we knew none of that yet. His odds were good- 3 girls, 1 guy. He took us around bar to bar- getting drunker and drunker. Military. Of course. That is my type. What I remember is a sense of security- he made me feel safe by his presence, which is an odd thing since he was a stranger. Closing time- how did it happen but he started kissing me. An internal struggle erupted in my brain- don't kiss a stranger at the bar! He wanted us to come see his fireplace. The signal to leave! But before I did, I said, "don't you want my number?". It had never dawned on him, cause I was just some random girl at the bar, right? He put my number in his phone and sent me a text message. And us three girls caught a cab home.
The next day, Sunday. It was a gorgeous day, despite being early February. I sent him a text message thanking him for taking us around. And he took his opportunity. He picked me up and we headed down to the riverfront. He laid out a rug he had in his trunk and we talked. Then a museum. Then dinner. Six hours later he dropped me off at my house- no kiss, no sex, no alcohol. (the last one mostly cause he was hungover). Months later he would ask if I had noticed that he hadn't tried to kiss me, and of course, I said no. I told him I was busy for the next 2 weeks, especially since the next weekend was Valentine's Day- that could just get awkward quick.
I didn't call that week. He called. I counted it as a positive sign. On Valentine's he sent a text and said that if I was out to let him know and we could meet up. I said thanks, and that I was busy. Of course, I was busy. The next week I called, with intent. My next weekend was pretty busy, but I could add him to a party. So I asked him to go to a party- at the sister of my best gay friend's house. He picked me up, and I got very drunk. And I stayed the night at his house...
During this time, I had been sick- some strange symptoms. Finally, the doctor figured out I had a thyroid problem. The week after the party, I started having lung pain and got really sick with a cough, fever, etc. He thought that he had just given me a cold that had been passed around his work. He came over to take care of me- and stayed all weekend. It makes more sense when you figure that he is the medic for his team- and he has a deep desire to take care of people when they are sick. But the sickness didn't pass. The doctor gave me antibotics, but still I was coughing and sick. Months passed. Two and a half months later, my doctor tested me for mono- and it came back positive. Hypothyroid and mono at the same time.
We would spend most weekends together- unless he was gone for work. He always called me when he said he would- sometimes he would call me to tell me he would call me later because he was busy but he had told me he would call so he did. It was admirable. Things continued, months passed. I never once brought up what we were or where we were going- I could see he just wasn't there.I didn't meet his family. I wasn't really part of his life.
May came. With it the busyness of spring. He left for a trip. When he came back- pulled in directions by his dad being in town, going to out of state for the weekend, and my asking him to come by- he let it go. He blurted out, 'I can't do a relationship'. The words hung in the air, unmovable, unstoppable. Silence. He left to go out of town. I didn't figure he'd change his mind, I let him go his way...for a little bit. I tried dating someone else but all I wanted was his comfort. Like I fool, I went back. I remember laying on the back porch, in that moment, we were there. But our lack of a relationship had made our relationship push and pull. The words still hung their black clouds over me. It wasn't enough. I pushed. He pulled.
August came. I was coming back from a TDY. He called exactly as I was getting my bags off the belt- 3ish- could he pick me up? Sure, I don't pass up a free ride. I knew the day- this was the day he found out if he made the cut for his special project. It was a Thursday. We didn't say much, and then he finally said he lost his job. Clearly, he didn't lose his job, but he didn't make the program. He was upset, shocked, depressed. I took care of him- made sure he ate, let him talk. But the next day, I couldn't do it anymore. I had been biting my tongue. He said he needed to figure some things out by himself. I said I couldn't continue to do this. And I couldn't.
I made up my mind. I would take it to a crisis point and he would have to make the decision to leave or stay. I wanted to stay, so I couldn't make the decision to leave. He had to make it. I became distant. I became busy. I was hurting. He saw that, and he came over to talk. His decision was made. He couldn't do a relationship, not with his lifestyle, with the military. We talked for several hours- or really, he talked. I listened. He believed that we could still hang out- we would still be friends. Yes, someday I said, we will be friends, but I need my space to deal with this. As he was walking out the door, and my last hopes were dying, I told him that I loved him. He said he loved me too, but love wasn't enough. We parted ways.
He left his watch on the coffee table. I mailed it back to him. My friends say that he left it on purpose, to see me later. I didn't want to see him later, to pull up emotions that I had fought down. He didn't want to be with me- the reasons and whys didn't matter anymore. Just that one simple fact- we were done. I started the process of moving on. I deleted his number, started keeping really busy, cried alot. He called once at 3am- put I didn't answer or call back. It didn't matter what he wanted.
September. It sucked. I missed him, it was hard. I was making it...day by day. I went home. While I was there, I went to visit my grandmother's grave. It is the most peaceful, beautiful place. And I prayed. And talked to her. I said that I understood that if I had to let go, I would, but if there was anyway to make it better- that I loved him. I left it there, accepting that it wasn't going to be back together again.
October. He called. I watched the phone ring. It was a Wednesday. He called again, right after the first time! I watched the phone ring. I deleted the number again. Thursday I poured my eyes out- but I didn't call. I went to see my girlfriend- drinking that Saturday- and at 2am it struck me how much the guys in the room did not resemble him in character at all. While he tried to be a good person, they didn't. I found his number in my emails, and sent a text asking if there was something he needed by calling 2 times in a row. He responded instantly- that he had to make some decisions in his life and trusted my opinion, and that he missed me, but he understood if I wasn't ready to talk to him. And I called him. He actually did sound like he needed someone to talk to. I agreed to see him when I got back, even if it hurt me.
Monday. He came straight from his parents home in NY to my house. He wanted things to just be like they used to be, but he could see that they weren't. He said I didn't appear to have missed him, like I had just turned it off. He had made the decision, I reminded him. We wouldn't be together. For some reason, this was not the discussion I had thought we were going to have. I thought he wanted to talk about his life and his work. But instead he said he was willing to try. Try what? Oh. Try a relationship. I was in shock- in fact the next 2 days I was walking around in shock. I had no idea what had just happened and no idea how I felt about it. I was already in the process of letting him go...and now I was supposed to backtrack? He stayed with me, though I felt like I was suffocating. But the last thing I wanted to do was push him away. I said yes, we can try, because I knew that I loved him.
And things changed. Slowly. I met his family (well alot of them, anyway). He started calling me girlfriend, though it was hard for him to choke out. He learned to hold my hand. He became used to me calling him baby. I learned to cook Indian food for him. We went to Puerto Rico. We laughed. We have now been together 5 times longer than his only other relationship (which was in high school). We are learning.
Counting by months
I count by months, not days. Counting by days makes it seem so long...like hearing the slow tick of a clock on the wall. But counting in months, that is a much smaller number. July 22nd to August 22nd- one month done. Another month halfway done. 5 and a half to go.
I should be reading for class now, books on war and what it all means. Strategery. As if there is a strategy that would actually fix something. But instead I lay down in my bed, staring at a Skype that he wasn't on....as if by staring at it would make him appear. But all the wishes in the world add up to nothing. I sometimes think that it would be easier if I rarely talked to him, so I wouldn't be tempted to tell him what I was actually feeling. But I wanted to tell him that I felt like I had sunk into a black pit, where I continued to go through the same motions only with tears in my eyes. Sometimes I break down. In the parking lot, when I pull up behind a car with stickers, 'in honor of the fallen', and 'I heart my soldier'. I just stare at those stickers as if they might someday mean more. And sometimes walking through a store, I just feel the dread and pull my sunglasses over my eyes. I always liked to hide behind my sunglasses- my protection from the other eyes. I wanted him to know, but I didn't tell him or anyone else. He would feel like it was his fault, and it wasn't. There were so many stressors before he left- buying a new house, not having a place to live inbetween buying a house, difficulties with the loan process, moving, promotion at work, acceptance to a masters program while working full time, a report due out at work...then he found out he was being deployed.
I had found the engagement ring booklet three months before he deployed. I realized that wasn't happening. No ring. And I felt crushed, like the Army had taken something from me. Three weeks notice for deployment. He came back from a three week TDY, and there it was. It is bad enough that we live 6 hours apart right now, but now it is oceans and lifetimes apart. My life here goes on- buying stuff for the house, painting rooms by myself, learning to do all that stuff alone. He's never even slept with me under this roof. Sometimes I fear that he won't, not because I think that he will die (though that is a possibility) but moreso, I have this fear that something will happen and he will run out of this relationship. To understand this, you would have to go back to the fact that at 28, I am his first girlfriend, and it took him 9 months and me leaving him for him to finally commit. Yes, I know that he is committed and that he loves me...but there is that little part of me that screams that he will be afraid and run away. Then I will be alone with my painted walls and new couch. And my dreams will be crushed- that is the scariest part. I've built all these dreams, we've built a life, and I can't see starting over, I don't think that my heart could take it. Of course it would take it, if it had to, but I would never be the same. I see him as the one that I want to grow old with- not because he is the perfect one (far from it) but because he is willing to work on it even when things are hard. He's honest, caring, truthful- those are things that are hard to come by. And we laugh.
But today I'm not laughing. Today I'm crying. And counting months. A lifetime to go....
I should be reading for class now, books on war and what it all means. Strategery. As if there is a strategy that would actually fix something. But instead I lay down in my bed, staring at a Skype that he wasn't on....as if by staring at it would make him appear. But all the wishes in the world add up to nothing. I sometimes think that it would be easier if I rarely talked to him, so I wouldn't be tempted to tell him what I was actually feeling. But I wanted to tell him that I felt like I had sunk into a black pit, where I continued to go through the same motions only with tears in my eyes. Sometimes I break down. In the parking lot, when I pull up behind a car with stickers, 'in honor of the fallen', and 'I heart my soldier'. I just stare at those stickers as if they might someday mean more. And sometimes walking through a store, I just feel the dread and pull my sunglasses over my eyes. I always liked to hide behind my sunglasses- my protection from the other eyes. I wanted him to know, but I didn't tell him or anyone else. He would feel like it was his fault, and it wasn't. There were so many stressors before he left- buying a new house, not having a place to live inbetween buying a house, difficulties with the loan process, moving, promotion at work, acceptance to a masters program while working full time, a report due out at work...then he found out he was being deployed.
I had found the engagement ring booklet three months before he deployed. I realized that wasn't happening. No ring. And I felt crushed, like the Army had taken something from me. Three weeks notice for deployment. He came back from a three week TDY, and there it was. It is bad enough that we live 6 hours apart right now, but now it is oceans and lifetimes apart. My life here goes on- buying stuff for the house, painting rooms by myself, learning to do all that stuff alone. He's never even slept with me under this roof. Sometimes I fear that he won't, not because I think that he will die (though that is a possibility) but moreso, I have this fear that something will happen and he will run out of this relationship. To understand this, you would have to go back to the fact that at 28, I am his first girlfriend, and it took him 9 months and me leaving him for him to finally commit. Yes, I know that he is committed and that he loves me...but there is that little part of me that screams that he will be afraid and run away. Then I will be alone with my painted walls and new couch. And my dreams will be crushed- that is the scariest part. I've built all these dreams, we've built a life, and I can't see starting over, I don't think that my heart could take it. Of course it would take it, if it had to, but I would never be the same. I see him as the one that I want to grow old with- not because he is the perfect one (far from it) but because he is willing to work on it even when things are hard. He's honest, caring, truthful- those are things that are hard to come by. And we laugh.
But today I'm not laughing. Today I'm crying. And counting months. A lifetime to go....
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