That word

It causes more problems than it solves, that word.

Sends senses off on a wayward wind, tumbling free. Followed closely by my emotions. No rhyme, no reason. An end to rational thought, contemplation, considered and rational belief.

Thought I’d been in love before. Clearly not. Just goes to show, you can never be too old to fall, and fall hard.

No one has ever had such a profound effect on me before. I am at a loss to adequately describe it, if I’m honest — which as a wordsmith both by trade and in my soul, does not sit well.

***************************

Believe me, he says, incredulously. If i didn’t want you around, you would know.

It’s not enough, I retort. I need to hear it. I am not capable of functioning until I hear it from you.

You really don’t know? he quizzes, arching an eyebrow and fixing me with a look. Clearly this is a big surprise to him.

I pause, wondering how best to illustrate the tsunami of raw emotion that has crippled me to my core of late. While he was not the sole cause – I am not quite as pathetic as this post is making me sound – he did, however, generate the biggest fallout. Emotional concussion, if you like. Why? Fuck knows. It just is what it is.

Deep breath: inhale.

Babe, I cried. I fucking wept. On your brother’s shoulder. Like a babe in arms. I had convinced myself and no rhyme or reason could convince me otherwise.

He smiles, engulfs me in the massiveness that is his gloriously sexy frame. Brings me in close, kisses me on the forehead, then lifts my chin so our eyes meet.

I’m not scared to say I love you. And I do, be sure of that.

I well up again, but this time with joy.

I know you. I trust you. 

I go to kiss him, he smiles and jokes around, holding me away from him until he finally acquiesces, and I lose myself in him.

It’s just… I thought it was understood. Between us. Mutual. 

I thought you knew. 

when-i-first-saw-you-i-fell-in-love-and-you-smiled-because-you-knew-quote-1

 

Excavation

troubled mindThe feelings swirling around in my head of late resemble in my mind’s eye a tangled mess of wool: a knitted spaghetti of emotions, doubts, fears, insecurities — with love, joy and happiness thrown in for good measure.

I find myself lurching between forty-eight year old MILF and hesitantly apprehensive fourteen year old in the time it takes to read an SMS. It’s neither an easy transistion, nor is it always pleasant. To use the vernacular, it sucks camel ass.

Like so many, he went from full-on “I love you” and “I’ve fallen for you, all of you” to an unsettling silence. Not a distance. Not in any way a lessening of physical presence, or even of care and affection. But the declarations lessened and then abruptly ceased.

I would call bullshit, but it’s not.

According to Anita, who also knows and loves him on many levels (the joy of polyamory, she and i love each other too) he appreciates me, loves  me and speaks of me highly.

He’s just “weird” about the love thing. Especially with regard to me. What the fuckity fuck?

I understand this. I am currently in a place of emotional turbulence, where stability is but a dream. One day I’m up, the next I’m down. There are good reasons for this, none of which I’m going into here, but it’s a very frustrating situation.

In moments of more extended clarity, I realise that on some level I am enabling the behaviour that makes me sad. I fell in love with this man hook, line and sinker — I could no more stop myself tumbling into that abyss than I could give up oxygen. I’m not possessive, nor do I indulge in jealousy — I have no issue with his abundant stable of friends and lovers, since I match him in intent, if not in intensity, and have done for years. I speak only of my feelings for him, and his for me. For some reason, with him more than anyone else ever, it cuts deeper. It could be connected to the stage I’m at in my life (complicated does not even begin…) but in my heart of hearts, I believe that while the “how” may well be a result of this, the “what” is coincidental to the “when”.

On many levels, i am cognizant that he’s the one. Not the only one, that’s not my lifestyle. But certainly the primary. The alpha. That said, sometimes, it seems that I’m repeating the same series of errors once again; that despite the crackling chemistry and depth of feeling, eventually he will ruin me.

The control — yet again, I find myself with someone who has to constantly be in control. Not being the world’s most shy and retiring violet myself, this is not always for the best. In my soon-to-end marriage, the element of control was destructive, all-consuming and debilitating. Moving away and out from under that heavy harness was nigh-on impossible — but I’m doing it. Such insistence on control worries me not a little. Red flag.

In the aforementioned moments of clarity, i also realise that I am a strong, intelligent person who deserves so much more than what I settled for, for so many years. He’s lucky to have me. Pissing around with mind games and similar bullshit should be a huge warning sign. I should walk away. I don’t want to, but maybe it will eventually be my only option. What is very clear, though, is that if he pushes me away for much longer, based on his need to control, he will lose me. As I grow ever stronger and more secure in my actions, leaving the fourteen year old way back in the annals of my past where she rightly belongs, i will not allow myself once more to settle for less than the love I deserve.

That’s it, in a nutshell. It’s about what I deserve.

I don’t know why he feels the need to alienate me. He’s far too intelligent to play with control merely for the sake of being the uber-dog.

But he will lose me. Unless he ponies up and tells me how he feels. I cannot live with silence. No one should ever be expected to.

Anita kindly shared certain insights, without betraying confidences, for the purpose of soothing my agitated mind. Which it did, for a while. But then i realised that I do not deserve to be messed with in this way. Regardless of my circumstance (I do not need, require or welcome pity), I deserve better.

And regardless of all-consuming love, chemistry, x-factor — call it what you will — i need to be loyal to that. And loyal to who I really am, not the pathetic mess who represents me so often of late.

Loyal to myself.

Absolutely.