Tag: fear

My Five Whys

Published on by lacylynnetteLeave a comment

Why does his drinking bother me?

Because it impacts the weekend and causes me to feel alone in my own mind as he escapes through it.

Why does this bother me?

Because I feel like he doesn’t want to be here.

Why does this bother me?

Because I used to feel like I was what made his life better.. a light in it. Now I feel like just another one of his problems.

Why does this bother me?

Because if he thinks I am part of the problem, maybe I AM just another part of the problem.

Why does this bother me?

Because if I AM a part of the problem, that means I have failed as a wife and partner.

What I know

Published on by lacylynnetteLeave a comment

I woke up last night and you weren’t next to me. So I began to search for you.. the office, the spare room, upstairs. I couldn’t find you and in my half asleep state, I had this thought that you were gone for good. To where? I didn’t know.  But I thought you were gone. I hurried downstairs thinking I’d look in the garage next, maybe your car would be gone. I would worry, I would text, you would ask that I please leave you alone. We’d argued, I’d cried, and you were angry. This was it. I had it all figured out… and then I saw you, coming from the basement. You were downstairs doing laundry.

And that’s what I know. That has been my reality.  Sometimes you lay your head down on an unfamiliar pillow in some unfamiliar hotel room in a random city of a random state and you wake up and you’re suddenly alone because you’re only connection to family tiptoed out the door while you were sleeping. In the anger and the ice cold of the moment I see it, happening all over again. It’s the fear that runs through my head..As your downstairs separating darks from lights.

Outside the box.

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Twenty seven… I was twenty seven years old and still I had never opened my heart to someone who might break it. I had never even opened my hand to allow in some else’s much less something breakable. Who does that? Mostly those who get hurt and sometimes those who get lucky. At twenty seven, I am independent, I am strong, and I don’t believe in love. Love is fleeting. Love almost certainly goes away in time. I don’t need fleeting. I don’t need love.

And then enters a man who takes everything that I know and turns it upside down. He talks to me; I don’t look at his face. He texts me; I (intentionally) wait an hour to reply. He tells me he’s taking my wall down; I don’t believe him. I have a whole lifetime of research to refer to. He’ll be gone in twenty minutes. No worries here.

But he just keeps coming back, again and again. He doesn’t stopping looking at me, he doesn’t stop texting and he doesn’t go away. Who is this person? More importantly– why the fuck me?

It took so long for me to realize what kind of box I’d placed myself in. I’d spent a good deal of time in my late teens/ early twenties telling myself just how strong I was, and how brave. Look at me! I don’t need a single soul to get by. I have come back from the bottom, taken nothing and made it something amazing. Yes– and yet, here I was in the crappy little box I’d placed myself in and marked in big black letters: DAMAGED. Powerful and strong for me and those who needed me. Too damaged for those who wanted me. I was selling myself and the possibilities so short and mostly due to a fear of failure. I didn’t want to try and then fail so I just didn’t try at all. But not this time. Not with this one.

It’s over nine months later and I’ve not only let him through my wall but so deeply into my life. We laugh, argue, cry (that one’s all me), we kiss and we make up and I’ve only recently stopped looking for him to walk out the door and out of my life. It’s a process. It’s not easy. It never could be. But he makes easier. And that’s all I’ve ever needed.