Thoughts unspoken

That realization when I’m only half of what I will ever become.

That realization that an Ativan will never help me feel true feelings.

That sticking around for him will never lead to my best loving relationship.

That dressing to be seen will never outshine the person inside.

Life is sometimes cold. And dark. And lonely. Like sitting out on a boat, out in the waters. The boat’s sturdy, granted. I know it won’t sink, even when the hard waters thrash against it. But man oh man, it gets hard to see these waters called life. The night sky’s stars remain shy, and I can only use limited senses as I traverse the waters. Life can be very dark. Very lonely.

It scares me when something tells me this ship might actually not make it. And for a while, my ship actually began to sink.

Well, along came a fellow traveler - he came out of the blue one day, as the winds began to pick up. His boat didn’t seem very perturbed, though, from the storm. In fact, his boat was perfectly still, meandering waves and shining a light. He came closer, and I began to jump up and down in joy. I knew things would be alright.

Sure enough, things were more than alright - they were amazing! My boat lit up, and I began to notice the shining waters. Things seemed to make more sense. And I had direction.

Desperately, I said, “Hey fellow. I seem to be without a life vest. What will I do?”

He responded, “Look around you. You can make a life vest of your own. It doesn’t have to be plastic!”

I asked, “Hey fellow - why am I so cold?”

He responded, “I get cold too! So I put on a jacket.”

This man, happy, warm, and surrounded by a bright light, took the time to show me the meaning of enjoying life. He told me the truth, and it didn’t hurt. He showed me how to love.

I could now see the paths that I was to take.

For a while, I was scared to let go of his ship. What if I can’t make my way back? Will I end up in that lonely, cold spot again?

In response, he said, “My friend, wherever you go, you’ll be there too.”

She knew the words I never had to say. She knew I had a rebellious streak, and my confirmation of making the right choice to seek her out in the first place came when she so gently brought it up to me, “Do you want to get better?”

Her same friends used to ask her the same question in response to that persistent question - “do I have to?”

Do I want to get better?

If that means I can give back to those I love, then yes, I want it badly.

Here we go.

It seemed like for some reason, for the past couple of years, I would have a request for an interview and somehow be 30 minutes off or really late and completely miss the interview, truly by accident. How do I explain to people missing so many interviews and swearing it was a consistent accident - unless of course, that meant that I would admit that I was going crazy - who would want to say they’re losing their mind? 

Sometimes I wonder why I missed all those interviews. I did look back for a while and beat myself up. Today, though, I think in retrospect, I’m really glad I missed all those job opportunities. Maybe I was meant to miss them. Maybe something was pushing for me to miss them and to put me here at my current, exactly where I was meant to be, the whole time. These people have become a bit like my family. We’ve often shared many struggles in my line of work, and we’ve looked after each other. I’ve looked to them for comfort and support, and I really have come to love them in a very special way. I’ve tried to quit this job a couple times now, and they’ve refused to terminate me. I’ve lost my temper and exploded a couple times. There have been many times where it has been nothing short of a miracle that I would still be at this job, especially for someone who has historically not held jobs longer than six to eight months now. Many times, I used to wonder why I couldn’t get another job anymore, why I kept ending up back there full-time. Eventually, though, I stopped fighting it, stopped fighting trying to get myself elsewhere, like into grad school. Maybe this is where I was meant to be.

Throughout my time at this job, I have come to know the people more with whom I have worked, and one in particular has grown closer in many ways with me. One person, in particular, had started to come to rely on me more to help her with some of her work, and over time, she started to come to trust me more and more. She would be really happy to see me - and in many ways, I was very happy to see her. She reminded me so much of my mom.

One day, she contacted me and let me know her position was opening up - she was leaving, and in her experience, she felt that I was the next best person who would be able to take on the position. I gladly accepted her proposition. The only catch - I would have to go through a formal interview/application process, and this time, I was facing many more applicants than the one for the position in which I had originally started, including another in my own department. I wished her well and good luck after letting her know I had applied as well. 

The day of the job came, and I sat in my house working on my resume, researching the position and the pay of the job. At that point, though, I finally stopped myself and decided to trust in the process - why did I feel like I had to prepare for a conversation that could swing a million ways? I was going to interview with my manager and another department, instead of her, but I already knew them. “But what if I-”

Fear of not being good enough, fear of failure.

I was not so willing to let go of my fear of being late. This time, though, it didn’t seem much of a problem. I triple checked the calendar ahead of time, and I seemed to have ample time to get myself dressed and ready. I didn’t bicycle there this time, like I usually would - I drove the car. This was the first time in a while I was able to show up to an official interview, on time, completely prepared. And the pride and resolution I felt at that moment was immense - screw whether or not I had the job. I was making things right with myself. 

Suffice it to say, I kept my focus on the interview as I walked into the hotel. Meeting with the department head, we headed to the conference room and we started with the questions - she looked at my resume and had a difficult time relating my accomplishments to the job I was holding now. Working in food and beverage almost had no relation, except in the customer service arena. What was she going to do with this history? 

Fear of not being good enough

Deep down, though, I knew I could handle it. I had been training out of curiosity for the past few months, and both interviewers knew it to some degree. 

Then the question came, “What is the most frustrating customer interaction you have had?”

And of course, not only was I feeling insecure about one of the people that I really liked being there and looking like an idiot, but with my answer, it only compounded it. I think they were probably thinking I would mention an interaction that I had at this current job, when in fact, it was at a previous job down in Texas. I mentioned how I used to be a tutor for kids, and it was extremely frustrating when, after working so hard to build a relationship with a student, the student would one day just stop showing up, because they were deported. And the response was mainly, “Oh, that must have been totally out of your control.”

And she was exactly right. Not having that means of controlling a situation or having my interaction being no interaction - having something yanked out or interrupted from my progress was by far the most frustrating thing I could think of. Putting that into words, though, no matter how well I put it, would never have answered the question directly. And that’s where I fell short and felt so embarrassed and ashamed about - because I wasn’t perfectly answering it, and because I struggle enough with social interactions, that it only compounded on my former insecurities. I could only doubt myself after that. 

I worry that because I didn’t answer that question too well, it may have set me back from getting that position, and it bothers me that I cannot go back to that moment and change it. It bothers me that I don’t know myself that well in terms of what really frustrates me, or that what frustrates me doesn’t necessarily frustrate others. That I can take a high emotional pain tolerance in some scenarios, whereas others would be appalled to even consider that scenario.

My friend told me whenever I started to think others didn’t like me, to cross out their names and put my own in that spot.

 I mainly thought I was being judged, that they didn’t like my response. 

I mainly thought I was judging myself, that I didn’t like my response.

That I didn’t like my response... Like I didn’t do good enough. That I despised my own response so much that I obsessed over it until this morning, where I finally had to sit down and let it out on paper. 

What is good enough? Doesn’t that mean acknowledging those laughing moments between me and the interviewers as well, where I just so happened to say the “right” things impromptu? So my sand castle was a bit lop-sided - does that mean they’ll judge me for it? Probably. That’s their job. They have to pick the best fit for the position. It’s not personal. As for my part, I guess I have to choose to forgive myself, not for messing up, but for being so hard on myself. Accepting that I am human and that I have a right to mess up seems to be part of the process, too. 

Writing it out, saying it, I can say to myself now, “Yes, I was good enough. I did good enough.” I made it to an interview on time. I didn’t blush like I usually did. I kept pretty composed for what it was worth. I actually asked some really good questions, and those are questions I can carry with me. 

I also learned that the values of working in the new position may not necessarily be isolated to just that position - that maybe it can also be translated to my current position. High responsiveness, integrity, internal drive... those are all things that I would assume any job would require, would it not? And they are skills that can be practiced, right? But that quiet confidence and satisfying the need for reassurance, making sure things run smoothly, making sure people are happy... those are things I continue to seek out, and maybe, even if I didn’t get the position, I had the chance to understand a bit more on how to change my perspective on the immediacy of customer interactions - rather viewing them as an opportunity to provide warmth and attention to others. 

Hi Mom,

I have faith that one day the truth of this letter will be brought to you. I do love you so much. Words can’t even describe where to begin but to let this out somewhere. Anywhere, but from within the confines of this mind. The first steps - honesty, trust, and respect with myself. And eventually, honesty, trust and respect with you. I choose to keep these words silent for now, in knowing that sorry isn’t a good way to live anymore. I want to live by better standards. I want you to see the change, instead of simply hearing it.

All those times you may have felt something deep down, like something was wrong. Well, you may have been right. Like that time that we stayed at the hotel together after that Christmas family get-together up in Maryland, and that small time where you came down and waited for me for five minutes. I was going through a hard time, and I didn’t even look to reach out to anyone - I ended up reaching out to some stranger on an app, rather than to you, my own mom. You know, I even told you the day I almost killed myself a few years ago that I’d make an effort to reach out to you even though I felt like there weren’t many people I felt I could call. I didn’t realize how much I’d been falling short from being a loving son and slowly becoming more and more absent. Even now, though less than I used to, I still shut down. I still blank out, and I know it can be a little puzzling why I do that when you talk with me. Or why you have to repeat things over and over. Or why I get so defensive and freeze up when you try to give me some encouraging advice to help me solve my problems. I guess I’ll never really know all the answers. Just the facts. In my selfishness, by putting other men before you, my needs before yours, by neglecting my responsibilities to you for so long, I indirectly hurt you, whether or not you knew it, didn’t want to know it, did want to know, or simply knew. The remorse itself kills me deep down when I look at you and wonder, “If only you ever knew,” and we carry on with our conversation in the kitchen, as though nothing ever happened. I do my best to keep it a secret, to put a smile over it, but in the back of my head, I know, and sometimes I think you know, too. The family disease we share makes us as sick as our secrets.

Mom, you’ve been there for me my whole life - literally since I was born. Of all the people in the world, you raised me, fed me, helped me up when I fell down, and we had a lot of tough times along the way. I don’t know how we made it through those years together with all the broken family drama, but we did. Now, you and I have the opportunity to make things better. I often look to making amends with people outside of this family first, and for that, I have also been wrong. 

So this is my amends to you: In the future, I will do my best to be more kindly, loving, and tolerant the way you’ve done your best to. I will do my best to make the best of our weekly phone calls, to find ways to listen better and to take an active approach. I will fix up the car as best as I can, so that I may be able to visit you more often. I’ll keep my hotel job for as long as I can and let you continue to use the discount benefits so that you can keep visiting your other son in recovery. I will try to remember to wish you well when you feel concerned, over-bearing, and controlling. I will do my best to be present. To dress up and show up. 

Ultimately, only time will tell what my actions say, but by letting this out and letting it go, I hope the universe will help shape me into the man - the son - I ultimately would want to become for you, Dad, and my future self. 

I love you always,

I used to think a lot about the phrase, “What if...?”

“What if I could get that job?” “What if someone tells me they want to marry me?” “What if I made bank and got out of here to go live in Australia, right now?” 

Recently, though, my thoughts have been shifting. I’ve picked up a job at a hotel, working in housekeeping, and I was paired to work with a young Latina (is it strange that I keep working with Latinos in my random jobs?). We’ve had our good times and bad times together. I guess that’s what happens when one works 8 hours a day, six days a week together, cleaning restrooms. Things get intimate real quick. Yet, though I know she has her struggles, and I have mine, we have seen that we can co-exist. Or maybe I have learned to co-exist more faithfully with others. To remain intact with myself while letting her experience her frustration with me. Interestingly enough, doing this has allowed her to come to peace with working with me. So recently, she invited me to celebrate her birthday with her at a picnic at her house that she put together! We had a great time together. I got to meet her husband, and we also had another co-worker come over and celebrate with us. My supervisor gave me some red, heart-shaped balloons and a few star-shaped balloons from a hotel suite we were cleaning out after a groom and bride had spent their night there. I’m just so grateful to have the chance to express my friendship, somehow some way. 

What is this... feeling? Happiness, content, peace?

10:30 am:

Strange. A moment of peace fell over me after talking everything out. I'm finally being true to myself, and I'm at peace. I'm not hurting anymore. I can be with myself today, and I know I'm okay.

Is this what it feels like to set a healthy boundary? To relieve myself of others' feelings?

The fall leaves are almost finished falling, and Virginia is more beautiful than ever. It's ironic I would break up with him during this time. It's like the universe is assuring me it'll be okay. Someone's smiling over me. I'll miss this nature, but I'll be back. I'm going to enjoy what time I have here while I have it with my sister and my mom.

I arrive at the campsite, and I hear The Eagles playing California (the live version performance). An RV greets me, and it hits me that they actually bought it. Holy shit.

I walk into the RV, still stuck in my world with my relationship. I can't even get outside of my head. I walk around as she gets excited about showing me.

She's all giddy about showing me her collapsible bowl and a collapsible colander she received from grandma as an RV gift.

For the first time in a couple years, my sister and I are finally together in one area. It has been such a long time. And yet, it feels like it was just yesterday since I had seen them both. I'm so happy to be home, especially after what just happened.

6:37:

Please grant me the strength to continue to tell myself I'm a good person for what I'm about to do. I'm so scared of what is going to happen, but I also have faith in him. I love him. I will always love him. And I'm ready to embrace whatever hurtful thing he has to say to me. I know whatever he says, it will come from the bottom of his heart, and as an empath, I will do my best to understand.

I love you, Freddy. You are loved, you deserve love, you will love.

Nov 13:

This was possibly one of the best breakups I ever could have had. I think he and I were not emotionally ready to handle saying goodbye. We are really sad to see each other go. Even more impressive, though, is that we still acknowledged we both loved each other and wanted to leave this relationship with a positive image.

If I were in 3 years time a little older and ready to move forward, he and I would have been soulmates. And it's hard to know that. But he and I were willing to try and did our best. And I'm willing to think that over the true disparities I experienced during my time with him. I'm okay with remembering this fondly. But for my future self: this was not the "good old days," and I lived a very difficult life.

I feel the loss of him, though. It's crippling. I want to break down crying on his bed. We're sleeping together in the same apartment one last night - but I'm on the futon.

Living with him is one of the best relationship mistakes I could have ever made. It was my truly first mistake and first effort to get involved with another human to another degree. I will look back fondly at my time with you. I love you so much.

I think there's a very small possibility he and I would be able to get back together. For one, I would need serious counseling - not only with myself, but with him. I need reassurance and trust from him, too. And he needs trust from me. If I can learn to stop being a people pleaser, and he can acknowledge his part in holding up the relationship, we can get back together, and I'd gladly do all of this over again. It's a very slim chance, but it's possible.

Regardless, I don't think he and I will get that far for a while, so I think it might be best to sit tight and see how I feel over the next couple or even few years. Who knows what the future will bring?

As I look around, I realize how empty his apartment is without my stuff in it. It's sad to see. There will definitely be a hole here but I'm gone. But he's kept reassuring me that he will find somebody who will be better for him. He encourages me to do the same. He encourages me not to stop looking for love. Because the next one might be better than him, too.

5 minutes to sit in the apartment, silent. 5 more minutes to smell his scent. 5 more minutes to touch him and give him hugs beyond belief. 5 more minutes to smile at him. To walk his dog. To look at him put on his military uniform. To see him brush his teeth in the kitchen and look right back at me.

I can't believe it. We just said a happy goodbye. We got ready for what would be our last morning getting ready together, and when I gave him the keys to the apartment, we walked out together. We created that happy ending.

I cried over and over again that morning, in private, trying to be quiet so that he wouldn’t have to be brought down. I hugged him before we could say goodbye, and just to hear his voice, and to see him try and keep a calmness to him while I began to truly feel the initial effects of the breakup... it was enough. Just for him to tell me things were going to be okay, it was enough. I believed him. And still I cried, but I gathered the strength and the courage to move the car out of Alexandria and leave to Richmond.

This is it. I'm done. I've had so many people share their wisdom with me. And I've come to the conclusion that I shouldn’t continue my relationship with him anymore. My intuition has told me time and time again that this wouldn't work, and while I've tried to ignore it and do my best, here, I have reached my limits. I can no longer accept more responsibility or fault, for I am now at full capacity of me trying to fix my wrongdoings. I’m just not changing fast enough, and it’s not a fault of my own. He’s just leagues apart from me in the relationship department. He is no longer in love with me - he is in love with an idealized image of who he met when he first saw me - perfect and beautiful. And as that vision has continued to stray further from the truth, and I have watched him slowly leave that view of me, I have watched him, over the months, go from raising me up on a pedestal, to no longer trusting me. But it's not that he doesn't trust me. He doesn't trust himself, so why bother trust anyone else? And when he finally hears those words ring true, he will see it. But I will unfortunately not be the one to be able to walk him through that road. All too often, a relationship like this is pushed even further, and even further, but now I've realized that people around me offer their wisdom and tell me this - save myself the pain of having gone through another 5 years, just to end it later on then. When it's not working out, it's not working. And he's a wonderful human being. We're just not right for each other. At least, not right now. And I'm now ready to fully accept that this chapter of my life is over. I love you dearly. And I would have given a lot to make it work. I have no regrets.

Goodbye.

Words can barely describe how badly I wanted you and I to work out.

Why do you feel like you have to numb your feelings?

I respect that you're frustrated with my time management skills. They're bad, and I should probably work on them more. And I'm learning to accept that without putting your frustrations onto me and turning them into disappointments or shame. I don't know if you feel ashamed of me or disappointed, which is why I have to ask. Are you ashamed of me?

(Put out the piece of paper)

You've tried really hard to be supportive with me, you've watched an opportunity like this grow, and it baffles you how I could have missed something I HAD to do, as opposed to being on time to things I WANT to do. Especially when I'm in such a financial condition. I get it if you start to lay down a hammer and ask me what's going on?

Whenever anybody talks to me and expresses their frustrations towards my actions, I immediately interpret it as a personal attack. But you have every right to feel that way, and I also need to not let it cut me so deeply and hide the feelings of doing so, because it only comes off as someone who doesn't give a fuck. I will try to understand, really, where you're coming from and why you feel that way. It may take me some time to figure it out, though, and really be able to understand. Sometimes I have to talk to others before it finally clicks, and I stop personalizing it so much.

I think you and I may want to focus overall on understanding our interpretations of the world and our social interactions around us. You're splendid with verbal expression. I excel on paper. Just because you don't text me back lengthy messages like I do, doesn't mean you don't want to talk with me. You probably tend to articulate yourself better in person. And just because I say something to you, doesn't mean it should always be taken to heart. As good or bad as that could be, you're welcome to clarify what I meant by that, and I can let you know if that's something I used carefully or if that's something I blindly said. The fact is, our communications styles are very different, but our intentions are clearly good. We have to figure out how to bring out those parts of us but also be understanding and accepting of our strengths and weaknesses.

These are the little things here and there that I have a hard time understanding. But it shouldn't hold you back from expressing your feelings. I shouldn't make you feel like you have to numb your feelings and should defend myself a little less when you talk to me about something negative you feel about me.

I left partly because I didn't want to have another night of us sleeping next to each other and wondering if it was all going to be over. But I also need space to process. You tend to take time to process things before you want to talk, and it may not be the same for you when you go to bed at night but we don't talk to each other. And it's little things here and there that I have to work to understand. I think, though, that you as well will have to do the same.

I think, not knowing each other as well as we can and still learning to smooth out living with each other, we can benefit from couple's therapy. A lot of people don't think it's useful, but I've gone through a lot of counseling, and I think it can be very beneficial for us. To be honest, I don't know how to unlock all the answers in your head and how to say my words JUST right so that you don't get hurt. I want to, though. I think we can figure out our languages and behaviors. I think we can learn to come to better understandings.

I know somewhere, deep down, I can be the person you want me to be for you, but I also need your help, and that involves taking the time to accept that your trust needs to be repaired by us both. Not just me. I can't be solely responsible for helping you believe the words that come out of my mouth. Trust is a crucial component, though, and I'm willing to do whatever I have to in order to spare a breech of your trust, because I am a trustworthy person, and I don't doubt that for a second. If you don't believe that, then that needs to be addressed somehow.

I think I’m incapable of being in a relationship. June 28 - that’s when I first met him. Why does it seem like it’s been such a long haul?

This Thanksgiving, he’s heading to Ohio to see his family. I’m going to Detroit to see my friend. I’m driving down to Cincinnati to hang with him for a day and then drop him off at the airport on Monday. Because Sunday’s too expensive of a ticket, and so is Saturday. What about me driving him back home? We can ride together in the car. I thought that’s what we were going to do all along anyway, but I guess I’m riding back alone. At least I’m being a man of my word and picking him up in Cincinnati.

He forgot to pen up his dog in the dog kennel. He asked if I could watch over him that weekend. I said I’d be in Detroit. He started looking for a dog watcher for the time being. I offered him one that was an hour and a half away. He said it was too far of a drive on the way back. I said it would be cheaper, though. He said he’d rather drive fifteen or twenty minutes to go get him. We live in one of the most expensive areas of the country. But he eventually found someone to room his dog for $30 a night in a 5X3. He was in a frenzy last night, so I sat down and listened to him. I was on my phone initially, and he asked for me to pay attention to him. He talked with me until it was bed time. I tried to some motivational interviewing for him, but it was a lot of me listening. Sometimes, I’m willing to go so far as to fix the situation for him, but I know I can’t be responsible for his anxieties. I can’t be responsible for his insecurities with his sister or his anxieties over finding the perfect little private room for his “baby.” I can’t change him wanting to fly back rather than spend another nine hours with me in the car. 

What can I do?

I feel kind of beside myself right now, because I know it wasn’t okay for me to commit to coming all the way out there just to pick him up, even though I’d probably have some free time of my own for a while to travel by myself. Isn’t that what I’ve wanted? Some time away from him? Maybe a couple months ago, when I actually didn’t depend on him as much. Maybe I should have said I’d prefer he come with me if I were to make the drive all the way back, but I’m trying to be considerate of him. 

Last week, he told me to step it up - I needed to put him higher on the priority list. I think I just happen to make bad judgments without considering my loved ones. Does that make me inherently selfish? If so, I want to change that for him. 

I’m trying to be positive and supportive and more caring, but in the process, I feel like I’m losing myself, and I’m feeling drained, for some reason. I have to remove myself from the room after he says he’s going to fly back. I feel disappointed - let down. I think it’s because I thought he said I was supposed to think of him when it came to making decisions. Doesn’t that mean he should have thought about how I would feel about driving back home by myself as well? It seems a little bit hypocritical. And I thought we talked about us trying to spend a night in the car (because I love to do that when I travel), but I guess he doesn’t want to because he’s busy looking at hotels. I thought we talked about trying AirBnb’s. They have ovens where I can cook, but he’s tried an AirBnb once that cost $100. I paid for that one as well.

I feel used right now. I’m still in debt, and I told him I guess it didn’t matter to me this month what I spent because I was going to be in debt anyway. But his budget is so much higher than mine. 

I want to go run home this weekend, but I’m sure he’ll feel abandoned, so I’ll stay and talk with him. I guess that’s part of being in a relationship. He feels shaky about his decisions and can tell he may have disappointed me, so I try and make the biggest genuine forgiving smile I can and hug him anyway. I’m really hurt right now, and I have to pull myself up yet again. I can’t be too much of a debbie downer because it’ll make him feel even worse about his decisions.

It’s amazing how low my self-esteem is. For the first time, I asserted myself with my boyfriend in what I wouldn’t even consider a semi-conflict. It was just me sticking up for myself. 

Apparently, he’s disgusted by the fact that I don’t spray the toilet bowl with a nice deodorant after taking a shit in the bathroom...

...and also by the fact that I re-use floss to save money...

...and also by kissing me in the morning (morning breath)...

...or when we have sex and stuff inevitably gets on the bed (unless I swallow)...

...or when I go to bed with feet that were exposed to dirt outside (*sandals*)...

...and by my beard growing so large, he thinks about food being in there...

...or when I re-use my underwear but sometimes flip it inside out...

...or when I leave my zits alone instead of popping them...

...or when I don’t use hand sanitizer when I go out to eat with him...

And lo’ and behold, using sanitizer is supposed to be used as a supplement to hand washing, not as a substitute (I just learned that while taking a class to obtain my food handler’s certification). But I digress. The point is, his hygiene standards are much higher than mine. I’m sure this could be easily attributed to my constant prior exposure to dirty work environments and working on farms and his military background. Case in point, when you have a slob like me living with a germaphobe like him, we’re bound to collide sometimes and argue over our differences.

Today, though, was a challenge, beyond just our differences. It became personal, really quick. I wanted to go to the bathroom and had an intuitive feeling it would stink (after so many years of feeling it out, you just know sometimes). I went to the toilet and asked him how to use the Poo-Pourri, which was almost empty. Joking, I told him it was my first time using any of the sprays, and he freaked out. Literally, saying, “What the heck?!?!?!” Overlooking the point that he didn’t seem to have a problem with me not spraying the toilet for the past few months that we’d been living together, I immediately went on the defense. 

“What? What’s the issue?”

“That’s so gross! We don’t need to have you stink up the room.”

“I mean I get that, but -”

“Use the Febreeze can instead.” Before I could finish my words, he walked out and yelled, “Just... SPRAY!” 

Almost feeling defeated and at a loss for words, I took care of business over the toilet, did a courtesy flush, wiped, did another flush, and then sprayed with the Febreeze can. A wave of self-consciousness, followed by shame, came over me as I went to the sink to wash my hands. Afterwards, I grabbed a bit of new floss and brushed my teeth, looking down into the sink after he walked into the bathroom again. 

My toothbrush is two months old, I thought. Why doesn’t he say anything about that? Before I finished up brushing my teeth, he slowly pushed me out of the way of the sink so he could spit out his mouthwash. Instead of just moving, I took it personally and shut down. Is he mad at me? I thought. Not even thinking about asking him, I skipped to other thoughts like, I should probably leave this relationship. It’ll become abusive. I should call a friend for help down in Texas. This relationship isn’t worth it. I can do better on my own. 

Quietly removing myself from the bathroom and walking through the kitchen to the living room couch, I felt myself shutting down as I challenged my thoughts for a couple minutes. A form of aggression, almost like outrage, began to indescribably form, and I knew I had to say something. I didn't want to become like my aunt, who walked on eggshells for her ex-military husband all day long and drank alcohol to deal with his nuances, but I also didn’t want to just cut myself off from him. There had to be a way for us to come to a better resolution and address how I was feeling. So I finally confronted him, right as he was about to say goodbye. 

He asked to give me a kiss, but I ended up distancing myself from him for a second. (Another note: I’m not sure if that’s an okay thing for me to do on my part, because I know that rejection tends to hurt him)

“What’s wrong?” he said, as I clasped my hands together, as if praying. 

Gathering the courage in myself to say the words, I put both hands over my temples, as if cowering and said, “Next time, I’m going to poop in the bathroom downstairs.”

A little sympathetic, he almost smiled, saying with a nervous, partial laugh, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“Please don’t tell me what to do,” I said, emotionally feeling distressed, but not losing my nerves as usual and breaking down, crying. “I get that we obviously have different standards in hygiene and that I need to be cleaner, but I’m not a baby. Please don’t talk to me like one. I feel humiliated by what you said in there. I like when you tell me what to do at times, but not all the time. Please just let me know that you would like for me to spray the toilet.”

(Note: I sometimes like when he shames me or humiliates me in the bedroom and that’s probably it. I dislike being talked to like a little kid, period, as it challenges my sense of autonomy.) 

“I get that. You’re right. I could probably have said that nicer.” For some reason, the words didn’t register as much as the chaos that I felt I had just created in the room. Pulling my hands away from my head, I finally looked at him. It felt like one of the first bits of semi-conscious argument that I had ever had with him, and he seemed to be respectful of it. 

Why am I cowering so much? I thought. I was positioned as if he was about to hit me. Trying to relax a little bit, I said, “And I’ll try not to be so fearful of you when I have to speak up next time.” A smile of reassessment came over him as I joked a bit, covering my face, “I brushed my teeth, too, today. Am I still kissable?” 

“Yes,” he said, leaning in to move my hands away from my mouth and kissing me. 

Feeling him slightly on the defense as he started to walk away, I said, “Good luck today.”

Half-heartedly, I heard him say, “You, too.” 

He kept walking away, but I walked after him and heard him stop and gaze down at the ground. I walked around in front of him and hugged him after looking him in the eyes, just barely noticing that he was going to kiss me in the face. While it didn’t register to me for a few seconds, there seemed to be a need for me to reassure him I wasn’t mad, though I couldn't say it at the time. I just had a feeling. Taking a second to process his and my feelings, I let go of him, but he started to walk away. Not good enough, I thought. His previous attempt to kiss me in the face finally registered right before I grabbed his arm and pulled him into my arms again, crashing our lips together. Tasting the fresh mint-flavored toothpaste mixed with his mint-flavored chap stick, I gave him one of the best kisses I could give him and made out with him passionately until he understood, standing back and showing a lit up version of his smile. With a genuine “goodbye” we both parted ways. 

“Good luck,” he said one more time, turning around, before closing the door behind him. 

I smiled. “You as well.”

I’m not sure if I can handle all the arguments that are going to come. When I think about it, it overwhelms me how much I will have to stick up for myself, especially to someone I love. However, it helped to know I successfully survived this one moment and respectfully communicated my concerns to him. Maybe he and I might make it after all. I really have to believe in my potential more, and I’m still figuring it out. How do I turn around my mindset to something more positive and optimistic? 

Maybe it’s something I’ll learn over time; maybe he can teach me to look on the bright side. Until then, I guess I’m okay with my shitty self-esteem (and my smelly shit when I’m alone). 

Lady GaGa

Hey Journal,

I just heard Dope today for what’s felt like years. Things have begun to change somewhat since my last post. I’m still in a relationship, but we’ve had our rocky moments. I can’t believe I’ve made it this far, to be honest. Today, I have no idea why, but I wanted to cry. Every now and then, I find myself going back to victimizing myself but pick myself up shortly after that shell shocking moment. I guess I’m okay with thoughts like those racing in my head on occasion. I’ve made it pretty far, and I haven’t had to rely on any drugs to make it. My addictive personality hasn’t taken hold. I’ve found some peace within me, in terms of coming back and living in Virginia. 

8/28/17:

I told him I’d have my good days, my bad days, and days when I’d be gone, but I’d love him no matter what. I made love to him and told him I loved him for better or for worse. So why does it feel like a hole’s formed in my heart? Why, when I heard that phrase in response to “Do you love me?” did I end the relationship in my head? 

He said if he didn’t have such strong feelings for me, he’d have left me by now. Am I that difficult of a person to live with? Or is he that caring of a person? Does that mean I shouldn’t be sad, or he’ll stop loving me? Does that mean he’ll stop loving me when I’m feeling down?

Even if I’m completely supported by him, it doesn’t mean I won’t go out there to work and bust my butt off, just to come back tired and grumpy. It doesn’t mean I won’t have tough times. For me, to love me means he chooses to stick with me and support me through my up’s and down’s, just like I’d support him.

8/29/17: