I have been dating a wonderful man for nearly a year now. We will celebrate a year together next month. Our relationship started much like any of my other relationships; wham, bam, boom. Not the best aspect of myself, but it’s how it is. Neither him nor I intended it to be that way, but once I spent the night, I didn’t want to go, and he didn’t want me leaving. It’s been quite the interesting 11 months. We’ve learned quite a bit about each other, and about being ok.
Things that work for us, is our desire to be together and to work things out, my patience, his vulnerability, and we love each other. It’s not like how I loved David, or Michael. This is different, and better, in the way that it’s something that can last. David was my first love and heartbreak. Michael, he was my lesson. And J, well, he’s exactly what I need and everything I never knew I even wanted. I don’t know how else to explain it. He makes me laugh, and I absolutely LOVE the laugh he makes when I surprise him. I love when he can’t help but smile when he sees me, even though he tries to look all serious. I love learning things from him. And I even love him when he frustrates the ever loving hell out of me. Which he does-often. I simply and completely love him.
And then, tonight while we were talking on the phone I recognized the signs of trauma while I was talking with him. We were having a frustrating conversation (about money and bills), and I realized my anxiety was sky high, my heart felt like it was going to explode (not in a loving way), and I was on the verge of tears. I was having to ask him for money. Now, I’m not the best with money. Although I’m aiming to be better with money, I’m not quite 100% there yet. And he’s really good with money, and gets really frustrated with me when what he thinks needs to happen with money doesn’t. It’s definitely one of the things we are working on as a couple.
But I don’t want to ask him for money. That’s horrible. I hate asking any man for money. I also realized while he was joking with me, that his jokes reminded me of Luke. And Luke’s abuse still gives me hell some days. I feel like every time I get over something and learn how to accept it and be ok, then my damn brain will come up with something else that’s ridiculous to heal from. I think that a lot of people make this assumption that trauma is something you work on once and then it’s done. But the power of trauma and it’s lingering bullshit is something that makes trauma a work in progress, always. I don’t know if I will ever be completely healed of the trauma from Luke. But I’m going to be ok. And each time something new comes up, I will do the next right thing and address it.
There wasn’t anything horrible going on with J. But my trauma was triggered and now I’m sitting here writing about it. My nerves are a bit shot, and I might have trouble going to sleep now, but I’m ok. I will be ok. That’s probably the greatest strength I have is to be self-aware. I know when I’m fucking up, and when I messed up, and when I could have done better. But the difference with me is that I WILL fix things.
I mostly just wanted to write about the frustrating aspect of trauma that it lingers in weird places among my psyche. Each day is a new day and something that I can build on for the days following. J knew I was in a weird place. And he knows how to calm me down. He doesn’t necessarily understand it, but he accepts it, and he does what he knows to do. I am so blessed to be with him. And to experience this journey with him. He’s going to have to marry me though; there’s no escaping me now. 🙂
Musings of a Baby Tiga 