Another cold grey Cincinnati morning.
I am watching (yet another) YouTube video of random tourists visiting my old hometown of Carlsbad, NM because I miss it so much. In an ideal perfect world, I'd like to split the month of March between my home state and where my parents live in Arizona. Money is money though so we'll see.
I am planning on spending the rest of February here with her. I feel a certain amount of tension about that, but I don't things are ever as bad as I sometimes make them out on here.
There is much good here in this apartment and with this relationship.
We get each other for the most part. We are children of trauma and have our quirks and irrational needs for routine and tend to eat the same foods and watch the same shows over and over again. And as a perpetual guest having to adjust to all different kinds of menus and routines, I don't think it can be overstated how nice it is to relax and relish in the specific kinds of comfort that comfort me.
And she enjoys being able to enjoy those same things without fear of judgement or suggestions and so forth.
And she is a delight. I am addicted to her laugh and love all the little and simple things that delight her. And she is funny in a Lewis Black/old curmudgeon frustrated by the insanity of the world kind of way. I enjoy listening to her.
While I was in Maryland, she was basically begging me to get here because of how lonely and isolated she was feeling in this strange new city. But by the time I arrived, she had made up her mind that she was going to move back to Tulsa and had started door dashing to earn money for the move back. And she is nothing if not committed. Which means she is gone from about 10 in the morning until 9 or so at night most days.
So I rarely see her. Basically just the early morning hours and the last hour or two before bed.
Which is honestly both kind of nice and kind of lonely.
It is what I was hoping for in the ideal abstract sense. A quiet place alone where I can write. But it also doesn't feel much like we're in a relationship at all.
Which, again, I do kind of like. I think we work better as friends. Friends that have sex sometimes.
She gets very insecure and jealous. Always (and I mean always) asking if I'm mad at her. Always taking things as a personal slight. Yesterday, for example, I told her that I took a drive out to the country to try to take some photos and get a little fresh air. She responded by saying "sorry that my apartment is so cold and boring."
I told her about a friend that wants to collaborate on a project and she responded by saying that the person probably just wants to fuck me and am I interested in her that way and "sorry that I'm not an intellectual like she is" and so forth.
She woke me up in the middle of the night to ask if I was cheating on her (I'm not).
We are both so very sensitive and keep triggering each other too. Lots of apologizing constantly on both our parts. I know for myself that the slightest criticism will sit with me like a pebble in my shoe. Then I'll bend over backwards for the next few days to overcompensate.
She does the same thing, so we're both on fucking eggshells a lot.
The other day I was trying to talk through a little bit of this with her and she said she couldn't deal with this right now because she was trying to get in the right mindset for work. I said that's totally okay and picked up the book I was reading. She then became worried that I was angry and giving her the silent treatment.
Not at all, I said. Just trying to give you your space so you can focus.
She erupted at that and went on this long thing about how sorry you're mad (I really actually wasn't at all) but she is under a lot of stress and is worried about this and that and has to get this done and just doesn't have time to talk about it.
I gave her a hug and said I know, I'm sorry, I'm not mad. I understand. It's okay
She still seemed irritated, so I decided to talk a walk and give us both some space.
When I said that to her, she started weeping and literally laid in my lap, begging me to not leave her.
Please don't leave.
Please don't leave.
I need you, baby. Please don't leave me.
I was just going to go around the block, I said.
But she couldn't hear me. She was too locked into a trauma response. Weeping, whole body shaking, begging, pleading.
She told me I'm the first man she's been with that hasn't hit her. She told me that she used to think men hitting their girlfriends/wives/kids was just a normal thing that happened to everyone. She was raised by two meth addicted parents and still tells the most terrifying and awful stories in that casual tone that indicates she is not telling me the worst of it. Like it's just a normal part of her childhood. Which it was.
I don't think I can fix her. I am not even trying to try. But I do understand her fear of abandonment, her insecurity, her worry that she is not good enough, her fear that she will drive me away.
It's hard because my own traumatic experiences have molded me into the kind of person that doesn't stay. I am trying here to be something I'm not because of how badly she wants me to be that person.
She is a never watered plant and it is incredible to see how much she flourishes when given attention, encouragement, and support. It's really like no one has ever believed in her before, or at least never said those words to her. And hearing that has done wonders for her confidence and abilities.
I want to always be that for her. I always want to be there to listen, to validate, to commiserate, and so on.
But maybe the best way to be there for here is to not be here with her.
I don't know.
I don't know what to do at all.
10:16 a.m. - 2022-02-12
Recent entries:
On Time in Arizona - 2022-03-23
The end of the Van, the beginning of something else - 2022-03-16
20 Years a Blog - 2022-03-04
She and I - 2022-03-01
Counting Matches with Rain Man - 2022-02-19
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