goldmourn (amberdawnpullin) wrote,

having loved and lost

Thursday, September 8th, 2016.
It's another hot night. Husband is in bed and I'm in the living room near the a/c with music playing on my iMac. I was sidetracked for a bit with some videos but I know that I need to write and it's not going to get any easier as time runs out. I'd really like for it to not be hot anymore but I don't get a say in it. I wish I could put my desk back in the book room instead of being out here but I'll have to wait until the hot weather is gone again.

10:46pm I'm always longing for Toronto. The cost of living there is way higher than where I live now but I don't care. I do care about what my husband wants (surprisingly!) and I care about our cats. So I'm not going anywhere. But I wonder how I can better make use of this time. Soon, I'll be taking French again and that's a good thing but beyond that, it's hard for me to visualize where that will lead. I suppose I should stop worrying about that and make the most of where I'm at. It gets tough sometimes. I feel like taking off and going it alone, thinking it truly would be better for me and maybe him too, but then I know that someone who knows how it feels to be abandoned shouldn't do that to someone else. It's also easier to run away than to stay. To push away than to let someone in. I want to know that I've given this all that I could and so I'm going to stay until I can't. It's not just longing for Toronto - it's the possibilities that I can't ever know from where I feel I'm currently at.

Is it that some of us can't stand stability (or the illusion or sense of it) - that it isn't something one can trust when they haven't had it throughout their lives - that the idea of walking away from it seems like it'd be less painful than to chance the possibility of losing it? I have a husband who wants to hold on to me and this marriage and when it has come down to the moments of decision, I have chosen to stay - when I could have run away. The knowledge that the longer we stay together, the stronger our bonds, the more interwoven our lives are - even without children, there is the passing of the days together and the things that happen placed in our timeline together. I don't have a repulsion to the idea of living out our lives and sharing them, of even living out our days in this town, but I do wonder if I'll ever feel like it's enough.

For some of us, nothing is ever enough except nothing.

I remember being romantically madly in love with my first love, that first guy who I gave myself to entirely, naively, openly, hand fasting at a backyard barbecue in the night time between a cornfield and a bean field. I didn't know how dark it would get. Hadn't learned yet.

My heart has never felt more guarded and cold and so fragile as it has in recent years. Past heart breaks. Hurt from struggles in life. Lessons in loss. The condition of doing what one has to do to survive. I never wanted to be one of those people who didn't trust others or couldn't love. I have trusted and I have loved. But I'm so far from myself at times. I am completely honest with my husband, who had been my best friend for a few years prior to our marriage, that I have felt this or that way about this person or that person and I don't know how to ever let myself feel the same way again. It's never the same way though. Each love has been different. Each love changes you in some way if it gets under skin deep enough.

I'm not cold or unloving but I hold back love even from myself. I have caught myself in moments when I could have let my husband know that he has made me happy but it is like I want to cut that to the quick to protect myself. I don't want to give too much of myself away anymore because I don't know what I have left of me, honestly. Even still, I've given more than I should to other stone heart people. I don't know. Maybe I'm waiting for the thaw. I know it can take me awhile and so I'm giving myself the time. But it's taking time from me, too.

I like his resolve to love me. My resolve to love back.

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