Juxtapositioning

words are foreplay for the soul
July 22nd, 2012 by me

Sailing

I am sad and angry and scared.

There is this situation. It is pretty dire, the down-to-the-wire kind of thing that has major consequences unless some big changes are made and made fast. I wish I could say more but I’m not willing to. (hint: it’s financial)

The problem is my soulmate. He is not the problem. The problem is me. I am not the problem. The problem is that putting attention on fixing the dire situation has meant some radical shifts between us. It’s those shifts that have me feeling so sad and angry and scared.

What do you do when the person you love most in the world pushes you away in all the ways that trigger all your stuff, because his own stuff is triggered from years of not-dealing with the dire situation? He thinks I judge him, so he pushes me away. I feel angry and scared about being pushed away, and judge him for the way he pushes me away (I am not good with angry yelling, and as soulmate says I’d probably wither and die in an Italian family, whereas he’s clearly very Mediterranean slash what they call Black Irish, a formidable combination when it comes to angry yelling compared to the quiet passive-aggression of my Puritanic-Teutonic Celtic-Saxon heritage). More pushing, more judging.

In my world, Angry Yelling + Pushing Away = Not Loving.

I am scared this wonderful thing in my life is falling apart and I don’t know how to fix it.

I think that in his world, Judging = Not Loving.

I think we are both scared of very much the same thing.

I am angry at myself for needing things like eye contact and gentle words and touches to know I am loved. What is wrong with me that I can’t trust that love is there when he is afraid and angry and I am the only person around for him to show it to?

I love this man. I’ve been seeing my life with him, my whole life.

Now my fears are so engaged that I think he will just leave when he can, that he is biding his time, or that now I am finally seeing the real man, the angry bitter one that hid inside the amazing brilliant loving one, and I am afraid I have made a bed I must lie in. I will be abandoned or must suffer, one or the other. And I am angry that I feel powerless to do anything about it.

Something inside me — is it my heart? — tells me to wait it out, be patient, be a woman (whatever that means), and just love the fuck out of this man. He is so good for me, I cannot tell you how good he is for me, not the eat-your-liver-it’s-good-for-you kind of good for you, but more like the everything-you-ever-dreamed-of-and-more good for you. If I had a hat I would hang it on that.

Somewhere I will find the strength to be the woman who loves him. To navigate these dark waters with him. To reach — together — the shores on the other side.

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