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.

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Life = Drama

I shouldn’t feel like this. I don’t want to feel like this and yet I do.

My life is a soap opera. It’s drama-filled and it’s never boring. I hate it. It’s never a happy drama; something bad is always happening. I could name around ten (10) things right now that aren’t even close to good, but I don’t want to rant about everything.

I only want to get one thing out of my system. I’m so stressed about it, it’s not even funny. It’s scary. I’m anxious and freaking out and crying.

I’m honestly afraid that I’m going to lose my fiance. I honestly fear that I’m going to lose the man that I love.

Why? Because I made some bad choices in my past and they keep being dredged up when he’s just managing to stop thinking about them. And it isn’t as if I like to think about what I did in my past either – I hate it and I would rather not think on it either – but it’s harder for him. We got together right afterward. As in, less than a month afterward.

And I didn’t realize it at the time, in fact I didn’t realize it until my fiance pointed it out earlier this evening to me, but I had inadvertently lied to him.

At the time my fiance and I started our relationship I was just coming out of my bar-hopping/partying/drinking/sleeping around phase that lasted a whole three months. (Not very long, right?) Well, I don’t remember exactly when I said it or in what context, but I said that I wasn’t “that kind of girl” – the kind to sleep around or lie or betray him. And to be quite honest, I’m not. I just fell for him and I fell hard. When I told him that, and I can guarantee this, I didn’t think of myself as any sort of bar slut or some sort of floozy.

But he thinks I lied to him just to get with him. I didn’t and I’m scared that he’s going to leave me. He was angry about it earlier. He made a point of telling me earlier that when he was growing up it was said that the type of woman I was weren’t the kind for relationships and the men who tried to get in relationships with them were the stupid ones because they eventually ended badly – i.e: with some sort of betrayal.

I cried so hard. I told him straight-out that at the time I didn’t think of myself that way at the time and that I really am not like that. I told him that I was sorry for inadvertantly lying to him. He didn’t say anything. He pretty much stayed quiet until he had to get ready for work.

I didn’t want him to go to work. I was… am… afraid that he’s not going to come back.

I miss him.

I love him.

I wish someone could explain to me something. Help me.

Recollection of a Dream

It was a time of war. Everywhere I looked there was sadness. Buildings were crumbling to the ground, everything in various shades of black, brown and red. I was searching for something. I could feel it inside of me. I had been looking for days, weeks, months; you could see it in my eyes and on my body. I was worn down and hadn’t had a shower in a long time.

It was like I was in tunnel vision. All I could think was “where is he? why can’t I find him?”

Then a little boy ran past followed by more children. And then I knew. Somehow, I knew. I had found him.

Quietly I followed the children; they were playing some sort of game – chasing each other with not a care in the world. They had no idea what kind of world we were living in. That made me smile a bit, before I remembered what I was searching for.

I came to the entrance of one of the many refuge sites. They were hard to come by and very well hidden to the rest of the world. Those who wanted to stay away from the war – the young, the elderly, the disabled – hid there.

I was a prisoner of war who escaped to find my child. The enemy had captured me early on; I knew they were coming for me and I gave my only child to someone I trusted, a semi-elderly woman past her prime, to watch over him until I, hopefully, came back to get him.

She was here. He was here. I could feel it in my heart.

As I walked through the dark tunnel – there was no electricity – women, men, and children of all ages looked at me in fear and awe. I can only imagine how I looked to them. Occasionally I would stop and ask someone who looked especially kind, normally a woman, if she knew where the woman I was looking for was. I was always asked many questions and then pointed forward with a smile. My hope was growing.

Finally I stumbled upon her. I found her with her back to me and so I observed her. She had cut her now-gray hair short; it used to be long and wavy, mid-back. I didn’t think I was gone for that long. Had I been?

She must have sensed me behind her because right before I called her name she began turning around to face me. She didn’t look surprised, just… determined. There were children behind her, some sleeping, some looking up curiously at me. She motioned for them to go and play. I looked at all of the boys; which one was mine?

I spoke to her: “You know why I’m here. I told you I’d be back.”

Her eyes got harder, fiercer, more determined. “I didn’t think you’d make it back alive. You can’t have him.”

I choked back a sob, bringing a hand up to my chest to steady myself. “He’s my flesh and blood. I trusted that you.”

“He’s mine.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks now. There were people staring from their seats in the hallway. I didn’t care.

“You have eight children of your own! He’s my child! Give him back!” I yelled it to her. I was crying, scared.

She snarled at me. “You abandoned your own child to go with the enemy. He’s no child of yours!”

I cried even more. And then a child came running up to me, wrapping his arms around my legs, hugging me. I looked down in surprise. Was he…?

He looked up at me. “Are you my Mama?”

I leaned down and hugged him tightly as I cried. I could see the tiny features that grew with him in the baby I gave birth to long ago. This was my baby boy.

* * *

I woke with tears streaming down my face. This truly is the recollection of a dream I had last night. It was one of the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had and I can’t get it out of my mind. It scared me out of my mind. I could feel everything. I knew everything that was going on. I could see myself as it was happening. I hope something like what happened in my dream never happens in real life.