It’s Been a While Since I’ve Tried…

My commitment issues are keeping me from a relationship. Not because I don’t want to commit, but because the guy I am seeing is worried I will lose interest and leave him. But isn’t that the reality of any relationship? I was happy to meet someone awesome and love that we are able to be so open with our thoughts. But I feel like my honestly is costing me.  Yes, I have commitment issues. But the fact that I was to try for the first time in… forever, should also have some weight.  We met online and both expected things just to be casual.  But then we got along so well we began making more time for each other, and now… I’m trying not to make him my be all and end all.  I’m trying to keep it light, because I am afraid of being hurt. I know he is as well, but keeping it open and non-serious makes me feel we’re not giving it a real chance. Yes we said one thing going in, but if I'm feeling more, I want to try.  I would like for us to agree to each other.  We tried for a few days but then he said he didn’t know if he could commit to someone who has such deeply embedded issues, and I understood.  But now I feel like I’m settling for a half relationship, and I’m ready for a full one. 

Perhaps he’s not the one after all.  Perhaps he’s right about me.

In the spirit of outright honesty, we met on a hookup site.  I messaged him, and after a few messages, we met.  I’m a large girl so I was worried he wouldn’t like me. He would be repulsed or something (I do not have a good body image), but he liked it.  True, he did put seeking a BBW, and I owned that when I responded, but you never know.  I’m not a lot of people’s cup of tea.  But he liked pretty much everything about me. I owned up to why I was seeking casual: I’ve got commitment issues but wanted to date.  He said he understood.  He’s got a daughter who stays with him weekends, and has a very busy job and felt it would be unfair to try and have a regular relationship.

It got pretty serious pretty fast (wow, someone likes me!), and now that we’ve pumped the breaks, I’m finding I would be happy with just him.  Am I just glomming on because he's the first guy in so long to show interest? There’s a different guy with whom I spend time with on and off and when I hung out with him the other weekend I did feel I was being unfaithful to the new guy, even though he had once again made it clear we weren’t a couple.  He still has an ad up online, so I look at it from time to time to remind myself he’s not completely committed, so I shouldn’t fall for him.  I have an online profile that I reactivated, and met a guy for drinks last night.  We didn’t click in anyway, and it just made me miss my guy so much.  So I reminded myself by looking at his ad. He wants something else.

I am not the one after all.  I was right about me.

Awkward Post is Awkward

Last night I was part of an awkward group hug.  I’m also the one who made it awkward, I realize, but it’s hard not to when the guy you like hugs you, and you know you can’t be with him.  I even said, “Awkward acknowledgement of hug” in case there was any question. I felt more awkward after I said it.  Awesome.

It’s almost been a month, but I’ve been missing him texting me all the time, and updating me on his life.  There was a few times when we hung out in a group, but it’s different than when we would sit together in his car, him sharing a song with me, or just talking.  I need to not dwell on that, but when you’ve almost resigned yourself to never meeting someone and then you meet a fantastic person who feels like your match, it’s crushing that they’re taken.  So I’m trying to get over it.  Trying.

A major reason why I haven’t seen him much, other than I think he’s trying to distance himself from me (which I understand), is things have been pretty hectic, family wise.   My uncle is in the hospital for the past three weeks, almost a month.  He was a fire fighter for twenty-five years who travelled all over North America coordinating large scale fire battles (is that what they’re called? If not, they should be.).  As a result he has two types of lung disease, Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder (COPD), and Interstitial Lung Disease (ILD). It’s common amongst fire fighters to develop these conditions.  And it doesn’t look good. 

So my aunt was staying with me in my tiny apartment for two weeks, and then over another week my cousins joined too, so there were four of us in my tiny one-bedroomed apartment.  I spent a good deal of that time on a camping cot in my living room, and driving them to and from the hospital on my way to and from work, and spending my evenings at the hospital.  I had previously considered med school and thus had taken a medical terminology class, and volunteered in a paediatrics ward when I was in high school, so I have a basic grasp of medical language.  Thus, I’ve been liaising a bit with the doctors and nurses on behalf of my aunt and uncle so they understand what’s going on and can make the best decisions in a terrible situation.

It’s been a tough time.  Last week we got them into a lodge (apartment building, really), across from the hospital, so that’s good.  They can walk over whenever they want, and I have my space back.  Man, have I missed my bed.  Not that I regret helping out.  I have a fairly large family, but so many of them are selfish or I just never connected with.  This uncle is one of the good ones, and I’ve always really gotten along with his wife.  So this has been rough.  My mum thanked me the other day for keeping her and the other aunts updated, and all I could respond was they would do the same for us. 

I’ve been trying very hard to stay strong.  For them.  For me.  But it also strikes me as weird that when tragedy strikes, I somehow become a robot who deals with the unpleasant side of things.  When my cousin died last year, that was me again, dealing with the police, doctors, coroner...  Now my uncle is in the hospital, and I had to explain to him and his wife that when they transfer him off life support to a BiPAP oxygen mask, things could go wrong so they needed to make some tough decisions.  It was the first time my aunt broke down crying in front of me because I couldn’t sugar coat that he could die right then and there. 

Nothing makes you feel shittier than destroying someone’s sense of hope.  But they had to be prepared.  Thank goodness it was a best case scenario where he’s doing much better on the BiPAP.  Maybe as a pessimist I insulate myself to the shit, but the upside is sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised.  It’s somewhat short-lived though, as his condition is so severe he doesn’t have much more time, but another day or two or week makes all the difference for my giving and loving aunt.  It’s been amazing seeing their love and dedication to each other through all of this.  Love exists.  I would have never fucking believed it, but there it is.

On top of all of this (But wait! There's more!), my dance troupe has a show this weekend, so I’ve been burning the candle at both ends.  Work.  Hospital.  Prep for show. Drive errands.   Rehearse.  Make sure my aunt eats.  Make sure I eat.  Updating my cousins on their dad’s condition because they don’t want to see him on life support. I find when I’m stressed my natural inclination is to push down feelings, and drink.  Those are usually opposing factors, so I’m feeling drained.  After this show, Imma sleep forever maybe.  Like being dead without the commitment, as I once read.

One of the strangest things that has come out of this, is that I found myself staring at my uncle as he was resting one night.  I had sent my aunt to get herself some dinner.  She doesn’t want to go to a real restaurant so she can be close to him.  I found myself wondering if someone would ever love me that way.  I found myself wishing, just for a moment, that I could take his place so they could have more time with each other.

Maybe that’s why I help in these situations.  It makes me feel something.  I can’t handle the emotions on one level, so I channel it into busy work.  To distance myself so I don’t really feel it, I throw myself in head first.

Awkward acknowledgement of feelings.

Revelations (part 1)

Wow. Moment of self-realization today at work.  I’ve been going back correcting several months of improperly entered data at the job I am currently at.  I’m through a temp agency, and was placed here with two other women.  I’m the only left, as they keep extending my placement.  That’s good and I should feel good, but I notice I feel bad that I am “wasting” so much time correcting things that should have been entered correctly the first time.  And the more I go back, or feel I should double-check something, the more errors I find.  It has been weighing on me.

I have been finding it tough telling my supervisors this, though they have been supportive and impressed with my attention to detail.  I think it’s why I’ve been extended, and they’ve told me they wish they could make me fulltime.  I should feel good about that, but I’ve noticed I feel responsible for the errors.  I mean, there’s no way I could have made them (I had never come across this data before), but I feel nervous and scared when I find errors and report on them. 

It finally occurred to me today as I was telling my supervisor what I thought had happened.  I figured maybe 30% of the data had been missed (not entered at all, but filed), and that within the data program itself someone must have selected a large chunk of info and accidently changed it, screwing up another 20%.  She nodded, saying it was likely, and then kind of gave me a weird look. I realized I was kind of cowering like a small dog afraid of being kicked.  Then I realized after she left that that’s exactly what I have been feeling. 

I was so used to feeling worthless at my last job, I have forgotten how to interact with confidence. 

I know I’m good at what I do, or I wouldn’t be doing it, but when you constantly find problems and it puts off other work you were to do, you internalize it as failure.  Or I do at any rate.  At my last “proper” job, everything that went wrong was my fault.  I repeatedly heard that from a Board of Directors who couldn’t even be bothered to even read the first page of my reports which were bullet-pointed.  They were unaware of even the structure of the business, but everything I did was the worst.  I was doing badly, and I should feel badly.  And I did.

I know I stayed there about a year too long, but it’s tough to get over that sense of failure.  To try and reason with a belligerent brick wall.  I would spend countless hours worrying, and tying my self-worth to that job.  It was prestigious, but I was constantly looked down on by others in the field because I didn’t have the same degree.  It was an abusive relationship but I was sure I could make it work.  Leaving felt like failure and I had made that my life.  I sunk into a deep and crippling depression.

It’s taken me a lot to pull myself out of that, and get back into the work game.  Temping was a way for me to try out my skills again, and see if there was something I could learn to love again.  I rather like what I’m doing now.  Sure, I work for a giant conglomerate that placed me at another giant conglomerate, but I’m okay with being a cog in a wheel right now.  Here they listen, and appreciate when I explain what’s gone wrong, and how I can fix it.  I like the people, the work is challenging, and I’m good at it.  Now I just need to remember how to translate that into feeling good about me.

Never Is a Promise

“Sorry.” 

The text came in late.  I was expecting it, and it made my heart ache.  I didn’t want him to be sorry.  I asked if he had made it home safe. He had. I told him not to be sorry.

“Have to. Inappropriate.”

“So sorry.”

“Won’t do that again.”

But I wanted him to.  I did with all my heart.

He asked me if I wanted to kiss him.  I exhaled slowly.  We were sitting in his car after the pub closed.  I only live three blocks from where we were, but he offered a ride home and I wanted more time with him.  It was dangerous.  I simply feel more alive even when he’s just in the same room.

“Yes. I do.” I almost couldn’t make eye contact.  “But I can’t.”

I got out of the car.  “I really want to, but I can’t.”

I went inside.  His text came shortly after.