Growning Up June

Well, this has been an unusual week, and a extremely usual week. It was a hard week, that seemed to go buy in a blur. I have felt myself slipping back into the patterns of working and loosing contact with all that really seems to matter to me.

Today, I'm going to return emails, budget, get a calendar organized...All very grown up things that should help me get myself organized.

My significant other and I had some issues to cover this week. Well, he had some issues to cover with me this week.

It started with the line..."I have to talk to you, when I get off work. I have to have a talk with you." You know that line can never be good. And, of course, the little wheels in my head spun so fast. All the events from my past experiences choked their way to the surface. All the previous ways of handling those situations didn't apply here, because now I had a child and a home and so many more responsibilities to attend to. So, I sat there in sheer panic for a couple of hours until he got off of work.

Well, we did talk about the "issue". And he talked, talked and talked. Jesus, he talked. And I tried to listen. Once the issue was out in the open, there was this since of relief on his face, a huge burden had been lifted from his spirit. That face and way of sitting that showed the relief. And then there was me, and my decision to make...that very grown up decision to make. The issue in itself wasn't really what I expected it to be, it wasn't nearly as awful as I had imagined, but it was a big one, and it did have severe indications and complications. My significant other was in quite a pickle, and had been for a bit of time, without telling me anything about it. So, there was my decision.

His relief could almost be seen floating there in the air, the words actually changing composition and makeup, as the transferred in the short space between our facing chairs, to land on me, not as relief, but anger, panic, sorrow, and more anger. These words that released his breath to constrict mine.

I am not extraordinary in my relationships with men. In fact, I'm quite ordinary, quite fucking ordinary. I have taken care of men, in hopes of trading that position for love, practically my whole entire life. Growing up in the South, maybe the world, that's what most little girls are taught to do. And the internal struggle that I face, is that I don't want to do this. And I do not want to teach my son to expect this. So, there I sat with my decision.

Now, on the flip side of this, was my family. I've not had a family, in any since of the word. Not that unconditional, do anything for you, no questions asked support system...nope not me. Not, until now, where I created this realm for myself. This might have been the first year that I considered it as such. I sat there thinking that this situation might just be the test of this. So, do I run, do I stay, do I run, do I stay....

What if the situation was turned around. What would be the result that I would want?

Ultimately, I chose to stay. I chose us. But, not without discussion on my part. Not without certain agreements, and certain regulations, and certain points made, certain accommodations.

Was it the right thing to do? Hell, I just don't know. Time will tell me. The patience that I never had, or cared to have, is certainly being instilled, whether I like it or not. He had some fears that were similar to my own about life and our family. So, in the end, I found that we are, absolutely, in this together. Neither one of us is the rock in our relationship.

This situation took on a life of it's own in me. Past the first night of roundtable discussions and mediation and cleanup, it took upon to make a life for itself in me. I'm still sitting with it, even today, right now, there it is. The clock ticks. The urge to drink heavily for a bit, and fuck someone I don't know is there, simply for some release of my own. I won't do that, but it doesn't mean it's not there.

I cannot go to him right now, he's not stable enough to take it. I am having to be the strong one, which I hate being the strong one. On the other hand, I've fucked up lots, and he's only fucked up this once...which aren't bad odds, really. So, there's that, too. Can't I cut a brother some slack for being imperfect? Can't I?!? Can I ignore my own past, and separate this situation from all others? Can I do this?

So, due to my own past, this week I bounced between, We Can Do This...and watching my son's chest move up and down with his breath, while he slept, thinking...Oh God, What Have I Done.