Work, Write, Love

There are so many things wrong right now. It’s ridiculous. I’m thinking too much and everything is driving me crazy. I think I’m getting slightly depressed because I’m stuck inside all the time recently because of the weather, with all of this cold and snow that’s been coming through everywhere here in the eastern United States. I guess it doesn’t make anything better when my fiance is working overtime because one of his co-workers is so badly injured that he isn’t able to work for the next two (2) months, so him and his other co-workers are putting in an exponential amount of extra hours to cover for him. This week, alone, he’s worked over sixty (60) hours. While, yes, the paycheck’s going to be lovely and both of us are looking forward to it… I miss him. I miss him a lot and I don’t get to spend enough time with him. We used to spend more time with each other. Hell, when my aunt was living with us we saw more of each other then, than we do now and we had severe privacy issues back then!

But all of this is just me ranting and raving. I need to get it out of my system. I have nobody – absolutely no one – to talk to about all of this.

I don’t have any close friends. I don’t really trust my family with personal information any more. It’s come to the point that the therapist who stops by bi-weekly to help with my child in his development (he’s a little behind, y’see) is easier to talk to than anybody else… except, of course, my fiance. But then it comes down to the fact that he’s never here and when he is, he seems to be sleeping because he’s so worn out from working. We never talk anymore. We never spend time with each other. We don’t even have money for a single Valentine’s Day dinner, I’ve come to find out.

I’m trying to figure out his schedule so that maybe I can arrange my mother and stepfather to babysit the children for a night or two so that my fiance and I can just have a night to ourselves and we can just, I don’t know, go out. Spend time with each other. See a movie. Have dinner. Go to a bar. Just have fun with each other. It’s not a big deal. The whole point, nonetheless, being is that we just need to spend time with each other. Without the children. Every couple does.

I feel like I’m losing him. And maybe it’s just me. I know I get paranoid sometimes and I definitely know that I have a tendency to overthink things, but it seems like my fiance and I have been growing distant from each other as of late and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

I know he loves me though. I need to stop being paranoid. The signs are there that he loves me. I’m letting too many things build up inside of me. Little things. Reminders from my past; things that people have said to me that are starting to get to me. It’s unfair and I don’t like it. I know what he’s really like. But again, that’s the problem. The little things that are wiggling their way into my mind are making me doubt stuff like that and, in my mind, if I really love my fiance I shouldn’t ever doubt him. I know that nobody is perfect; I know that no relationship is perfect, but I can’t help but continually wonder if something’s going wrong or if… just if.

I’ve wandered into “what if” categories. I really don’t think that’s a good sign.

A good sign, though, I think, is that he is the one person (not including my children) that I can’t picture myself without. I think and think and think, and then it occurs to me that we already act like we’re married. We share bills, rent, a home, chores, cooking (though, I will admit he does the majority when he’s not working); we share decisions and we compromise. We actually talk about where we’re heading in the future – where we want to go, in the sense of “when we finally get a house of our own and not this place, we’ll…” or “when we’re more financially stable we’ll take a trip to *example place* with the kids… they’d love it”. It makes my heart just grow and burst with such warmth. I feel like squealing and crying from happiness sometimes.

And, y’know, I guess it’s also probably a really good sign that when I’m reading my romance novels or watching my romantic-comedies (*cough* chick-flicks), or any sort of movie or book that has a significant amount of romance in it, I picture the leading female as myself and the leading male as my fiance. Especially once they start dating; especially if it’s starting to get more romantic. The thing is, though, it doesn’t have to be the “more romantic” parts. I have a wild imagination, and if I can picture my fiance and I doing something similar – then we’re in whatever book or movie I’m watching or reading at the time.

I love him and I’m in love with him. I’m not convincing myself of this. I’ve known it for about a year and a half now. My feelings have not faded; they’ve only grown stronger. I guess, though, I didn’t anticipate all of the other emotions – the stress, anxiety – that would come with it.

But he makes me feel beautiful. He makes me feel whole. He makes me feel complete. With him, I am me and no one else. I don’t have to be. He feel in love with me at my worst and has helped me pick up the pieces. I truly believe he loves me for who I am. It’s just hard to believe sometimes. It’s a scary thought… to have found somebody so completely right for me that they’re willing to accept all of my fuck-ups & help me through my rough patches. It’s hard to comprehend to have found somebody who loves me even if my family is so against the relationship, or just completely horrible in their own right but he still loves me because, well, because my family does not define me. My family is not who I am. Just because I am related to them by blood does not always mean they are my family.

And he accepts me. And he loves me. And he loves my children.

That’s all that matters.

Fuck the world. We don’t need anyone else. Nobody else’s opinion matters.

Just ours.


Random Realization

Just a brief little update that I find amusing. It’s more of a realization about myself than anything, but still. It’s amusing nonetheless. 🙂

I think I figured out why I prefer older men. Or at least partially why. It’s the beginning of a theory, it is.

I read too many romance novels where the lead female gets involved with a male who is a decent amount older than her. As in 7+ years older. I find it fascinating that I just realized this.

Because out of my four most serious relationships, three were 7+ years older than me. My fiance is 13 years older than me, in fact.

Environmental influences at its best. Gotta love it.

Definition of Love

Complex. Romantic. Hard to find. Hard to let go of. Vulnerable. Risk. Selfish. Selfless. Paradox. Everything. Infinite. Passion. Affection. Tenderness. Fight. Make up. Forever. Acceptance. Openness. Freedom. Security. Insecurity. Friendship. Everlasting. Forgiving. LOVE.

To me, love is everything. You can’t find it if you’re looking for it; it’ll find you. Once it grabs ahold of you, good luck ever letting go. Though if it truly is love, I don’t believe that you will want to.

Love is a paradox. You want to keep it to yourself, because it makes you happy. In the same way, you want to share it; you want to make your partner happy – the one with whom you love – because they are the cause of this great happiness inside of you. You would do anything for them.

Love never dies – familial love, first love, true love, none of it. Insecurities may boil up inside of you, but that is what love, a relationship, is about; you talk it out and rule out the assumptions and the insecurities. If your partner truly loves you as you do them, nothing will come between you, and he or she will understand; they will love you for you. He or she will love you despite your faults, your flaws, your past, and despite your insecurites. You will be there for each other through thick and thin. Love is love, no matter what.

It is tender in looks, touches, actions. Love makes you vulnerable in ways you never thought you could be. Love is a risk, but it is a risk worth taking. Every moment of every day spent with your loved one is precious. You cherish it and look back on it, no matter how simple the action.

I don’t say this out of randomness or some fantasy or wish of what I want. This is what I experience. This is what my relationship is like with my fiance.

Like I said previously, I’m getting married next year – summer 2014. My fiance and I are not the perfect couple and we don’t claim to be. We have our ups and downs, but we don’t advertise our relationship to the world. I think that our privacy has a lot to do with it.

We’ve had our little spats, because both of us have a tendency to hold our emotions in when we’re upset and try to avoid confrontation of any kind. We both, also, know each other well enough that we can tell when the other is upset. I normally ask him if something is bothering him, and more often than not, Chris tells me he’s ok. We do end up talking about it after a couple days; then everything is back to normal.

Chris makes me happy. Happier than I’ve been in years, and I don’t know what I’d do without him. Honestly, I think I’m happier with him now and more attracted to him now than when we first started dating last year.

Like I said before, love never dies.

It’s love.

To My Love: I’m Afraid

Something has been on my mind a lot lately, but I’m not sure what to do about it. It’s not bad, definitely good, but I’m self-conflicted.

Let me explain.

You are one of the most important people in my life. Up there with my children. Up there with Elizabeth. And we’ve only been “together” for a month. Everything has happened so fast, yet it doesn’t feel like it. It’s like some sort of time warp. In my mind, it feels like we’ve known each other forever – we’re so comfortable with each other, know each other so well – but then again, everything happened so fast. I just, I can’t explain what I mean. Even now as I’m writing it, and that says a lot. (I definitely write better than I talk. Can you see me smirking? Because I definitely am.)

Time warp, though. Definitely. Time flew, but in that same sense, it stands still, and I can’t wrap my head around it.

I know you. I feel you. I’m comfortable with you. You are one of the most wonderful things to happen to me since forever. I regret nothing. The only thing I would ever regret is losing you. Scaring you off.

And that’s why I keep my mouth shut.

That’s why I distract you. That’s why I constantly kiss you. (Well, sort of. There’s also the fact that I just really like to kiss you.) Kissing you keeps my mouth shut. It prevents me from saying something that might scare you away. And that is something that I would regret. I would regret scaring you away from me.

I would never regret telling you. Unless it meant scaring you away. Unless it changed your opinion of me. Unless you felt pressured. Unless, unless, unless.

I would tell you, but I don’t want to lose you. So please, tell me first. Don’t be a scaredy-cat like me; don’t chicken out from your fears like me. Speak your mind and tell me, because that is possibly the only way that I will say it to you.

I don’t want to lose you, so I want you to feel the same way. And every minute of every hour of every day that I’m awake that’s what I’m thinking about.

And it’s always on the tip of my tongue.

So say it, and I guarantee that I’ll say it back.

I love you.

To My Love

Bring your hand up to the mirror slowly. Trace your image. That’s your image. That’s you. It will always be you.

I see your image, I see you, every day.

The smoothness of your jaw, lined with stubble on the days that you don’t shave. (It’s endearing; don’t worry. I like it.) Enhanced by the small, dark-haired beard on your chin beneath your lips. Very plump lips (that I like to kiss).

The lips that know exactly what I need to hear when I need to hear it. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. You blow my mind sometimes with how well you know exactly what I need to hear.

The ears that listen when I ramble about anything and everything. That don’t interrupt me even when I am talking about my Mother (who nobody likes very much) or my stepfather (who nobody likes at all). The ears that wait patiently when I stutter as I try to form a sentence, to try and find a word, or to remember what I was saying. Ears that don’t judge, that form their own opinion. It’s a rarity, it is, to find that.

Eyes that see and not look. Eyes that look past the skin to the soul and see me. Beautiful brown eyes that know no material views, but judge by what’s on the inside. You see me. You know me.

Arms that hold me when I’m scared. That comfort me when something is wrong. That hold me tight and pull me close as we sleep.

Hands that fit into mine. That work hard every night to make a living. That cook, even though they don’t have to. That clean, that change diapers, that does laundry, even though it’s not always yours. That drives me and my children places, though it isn’t your responsibility to do so. That softly caresses. That wipes my tears away.

I could go on and on and on, because I don’t just see what’s visible to everyone. I see you. I see the kindness you show toward me and my children, the patience you have for everything. I see you never stop giving, because people are irreplaceable, whereas things such as toys, music, cars – material objects – are.

I could go on and on, but I won’t, because I have so much more to discover about you, to figure out about you that you have yet to show me. I can’t wait for time to progress to then, because you are one of the most wonderful people that I have ever met and I’m glad that I did. Thank you for coming into my life and wanting to stay – for wanting to stay and so much more.