He lifted his hand from the wheel, shaking it, sunshine and shadows filtering through the driver’s side window as his knuckles popped. A rueful smile popped across his lips, and he grinned at me during the course of a conversation I no longer remember.
Then his right hand, the one nearest me… he lifted and shook it too. Nothing happened.
Then, he punched it on his thigh, abruptly, suddenly.
He punched his thigh.
Even as he relaxed and sighed in relief as his knuckles cracked, I found myself taut as a guitar string. Staring straight out the window, I breathed carefully as he continued driving, oblivious.
I am safe.
He’s not angry.
He won’t hurt me.
But these are things I said of my ex, too. So there is some discord in my body, trying to decide to believe the things I am telling it. Or not.
Logically – Guy has never done anything to intentionally make me feel unsafe. Quite the opposite, he tries so hard to make things work and make me comfortable.
I don’t want him to walk on eggshells, like I once had to. I say nothing, but I felt the quiet paralyzing my mind and limiting my words as a part of me shut down.
I just feel. Constantly. Some days it is overwhelming. The tone of someone’s voice can set my anxiety on edge, and too much stimulation of any kind can push me over on my worst days.
I long to be alone, and yet sometimes I feel lonely. I want to be loved, but too much allows a terror to build that I will let things go bad somehow. This strange juxtaposition leaves me feeling a little lost, some days.
Yet keeping all that in mind, I’m still living. Working. Striving to keep myself out of the luring pit of depression that seems to be waiting for me to stumble into it. I must be doing something right, as I’ve received a promotion at work.
I’ve just been struggling the past few weeks. This will pass. I’m not sure if my relationship with Guy will survive it, though. He is so excited and eager for all the ‘first landmarks’ of our relationship, and I just am not there yet.
I am debating about sitting him down and explaining a few things. Slowing down a little. Integrating our lives just a little less. I’m not ready to think about the holidays. I’ve refrained from bringing this up because I don’t want to make him sad or uncomfortable… or hurt. But I realized, I have to own my own needs regarding comfort and speed too.
There is a feeling of disconnection between us, and I’m sure it’s mostly on my side, as I struggle with vulnerability. This too shall pass.