It’s me again!
The woman, who is certain nothing good can happen to her.
The woman, who pushes away and ends up saying things, which are in her head, but make no sense.
The woman, who believes, she’s better off by herself – because it’s safer this way.
The woman, who believes others would be better off without her.
So, I did it again. I pushed Michael away. Let me rephrase that: I tried to push him away. I’m lucky he’s so stubborn and patient. Because no amount of pushing seems to move him anywhere, except for maybe closer to me. He’s a weird one, that’s for sure.
I don’t know how annoyed he gets with me, because he never shows. But I get very annoyed with myself.
I try my best to understand why I do what I do, but I have to admit, it doesn’t make any sense to me. I do, however, see when I have those “moments”. It usually is when life seems to be extra hard. When nothing goes right or I’m exhausted or have too much on my plate and have no idea how to deal with all that. Or all of the above. I believe, one of the worst “pushing-away-moments” was the evening before I went to my parents for my grandmother’s funeral.
Last night was nothing compared to that, but enough things came together. I haven’t been sleeping well, the past two weeks were hard, I had some trouble with my neck (which will hopefully be taken care off in the next few days), and more things on my mind – parents, kids, work, responsibilities. Instead of coping with this like a normal person would, I reacted in a way, which doesn’t make any sense. Why would I push away a person, who clearly is good to me and for me? Someone who listens, makes me smile and laugh and shake my head and roll my eyes. Someone who loves me, no matter what. I don’t have an answer to any of those questions. Maybe I never will. This might be my unique way of coping.
Today Molly sent me some of the pictures she took when I visited in March. There are more to come, I’ve been told. As I looked through the photos, one caught my eye. It was perfect. It captured my feelings so well. There is me, on the bed, curled up. And him over me, holding me, looking at me, looking out for me. I don’t remember what led to the picture, but it seems like he’s taking care of me when I need it. This is what he does, in moments of d/s, play, and every day life. He is unique.
I can’t stop looking at this photo. There’s so much love in it. Last night Michael wrote a sentence:
Big love is scary, because the thought of being without it is terrible.
Maybe this is it. With every other thing, that seems to go wrong or disappear, the fear of losing him and us and everything that comes with this, is suddenly huge and right there in front of me. Because what we have is unique and wonderful and as much as I push it away, I never want it to stop.