sleeps with butterflies

you say the word, you know i will find you
or if you need some time, i don't mind
i won't hold on to the tail of your kite
i'm not like the girls that you've known
but i believe i'm worth coming home to...
so go on and fly, boy
 - sleeps with butterflies, tori amos

one of the central themes of my life, and if you'd known me at age fourteen you'd never have seen this coming, is non-stop male companionship. i have not been single since june 7, 1998. one boy bled into another boy, who bled into the man, and that was it. now, obviously, that span is DOMINATED by my relationship with my ex-husband, which ran from september of 1998 until very, very recently. but the fact of the matter is, i've been half of a whole for thirteen years.

needless to say, this probably explains why i am not particularly fond of sleeping alone. i just haven't done it very much, and i got damn used to having the sound of breathing/snoring/dreaming next to me as i drift off. when the man took off to africa last month, one of the main things i hated about it (besides the whole exposure to malaria, being way too close to sectarian violence for comfort thing) was that i'd be on my own for all that time. but that distaste for alone-ness brought a cold, stark and really unattractive truth home.

i am clingy.

yeah, that's just not something you want to face as a grown woman. so i am faced with a serious dilemma: own the clinginess and risk pushing him away from me through the sheer burden of being more intense about us than he is, or enforce a romantic austerity program that will cause me sheer and unadulterated pain, all in the name of changing things. talk about a hobson's choice, eh? 'course, i suppose i could just bring all of this up to him, but honestly, he's not going to have a clue in hell how to deal with this. in fact, i'm sure he has no opinion on the matter whatsoever. he's very much a cloud, so to speak: he prefers to float along, doing whatever, in this regard. if he can avoid being wedded to a plan, so much the better.

did i mention i also overthink the hell out of everything?

yeah, so i think i'm just going to work on not worrying so much. on that score, the man has a very definite opinion: don't worry about it. don't worry so much. i'd ask you not to worry, but i know better. i just need to toughen up a bit, get a thicker skin, and oh yeah, learn to enjoy my alone time. just because there's not a man next to me as i lay me down to sleep doesn't mean something's wrong. (and it also doesn't mean the man doesn't miss me, either. food for my own personal thought.) i am worth coming home to, and both of us know it. so i don't have to cling so hard to the tail of his kite; he's not going anywhere. breathe in, breathe out, and relax.

besides, it's easier to sleep without the snoring. i think we can all agree on that.

small world

i live in a major city. there are millions of people in the national capital area. i can walk the streets here, pass hundreds of people while winding my way through the metro system, and never see anyone familiar. it's an interesting feeling; a lot of times, it lets me be totally alone with my thoughts, anonymous and cloistered while in the midst of teeming life. it's, honestly, one of my favorite things about living here at this phase of my life.

but sometimes, way more than you'd ever expect, this is the smallest town ever. tonight, i discovered that a professor of mine grew up in my home state, and his niece and nephew are friends with a girl who was in the mock-congress program in which i met the man. the professor was familiar with all of my K-12 schools, knew people i knew. this sort of thing isn't supposed to happen in a place like this, and yet, it does. this isn't the first time, either; a woman in my program grew up with the woman who married my high-school boyfriend. that's crazy.

i guess, in a way, there's something warm and comfortable in these small moments. it reminds me that there's connection in this world. and really, i'm going to (god willing and the creek don't rise) be a real-life lawyer in a little less than a month; if there's a profession on this earth that depends more on making connections, short of high-pressure sales, i don't know of it. but at the same time, it's just ever so slightly, well, creepy. how am i supposed to be autonomous when these threads to the past keep popping up everywhere? maybe it's nothing. maybe i'm just paranoid. maybe i'm not treating these little coincidences as the fun things to laugh over that i should.

but if my world is really that small, how the hell can i grow?

sweatshirt

it's starting to get a little cold around the edges here in our nation's capital. a couple of nights this weekend saw the temperature sneaking below 50 degrees. i am a cold-blooded little blogger, apparently, because i FREEZE in weather like this. the man noticed this, and as i shivered next to him, he got up, went to his closet, and brought me back a big gray sweatshirt. i slipped it on and curled up in his arms, dozing off as he kissed my temple and stroked my hair.

this was a peaceful night. there weren't very many of those this weekend. i feel myself, as this process evolves, slowly starting to grow uneasy. scratch that; i'm scared out of my damn mind. hey, kid, you're all alone, and there's no stability left in your life, the voice in the back of my head tells me. get ready for a long haul. the man has known me since we were snotty little punk teenagers together. he knows that these sorts of swings will happen from time to time. but this feeling is a gut shot. i spent a lot of time being vaguely terrified, even as he did his best to show me how wrong the voice is.

so he held me. he talked me down. and it was an interesting kind of talking down, one that gave me pause. i'm accustomed to being showered with emotion, a constant source of... well, maybe not platitudes, but statements of unconditional positivity. the man doesn't traffic in that sort of display. i twisted his arm for some kind of verbal reassurance to silence the chattering critic in my head. instead, he calmly and rationally told me... the truth. it wasn't the blithe pablum of instant gratification i thought i wanted. but weirdly enough, it was perfect.

two things dawned on me at that moment. first, this relationship is built on something more than just a wildly careening net of emotion. the man expects me to stand on my own. he'll help me, he'll soothe me, but he won't carry me. we both have to be adults here. i said, almost to myself, "i miss being the center of someone's universe." he kissed me and said, "no. you don't. you're going to be what you want to be, and that's what matters. if i treated you like that, you'd get tired of it, just like you did before." aha. the light goes on.

but the other thing i realized is that the words the man says are secondary. the way he comforts me, the way he loves me, isn't with a string of sayings, cliches, etc. he tells me everything he needs to say with his gestures, his kiss, and most importantly, his presence. there's more love in that gray sweatshirt than there could ever be in a lifetime's worth of empty words. anyone can talk. he acts. and he silently wraps me in his love. i never knew that's what i needed, but i never, ever want to be without it.

self-evident

it was a splendid weekend in our nation's capital, spent in the company of my favorite people. we drank, we socialized, and we enjoyed each other's company. and it's funny; one of my friends did me the greatest possible favor she could this weekend just by getting drunk with me and asking some questions.

this was not a conversation i necessarily wanted to have, mind you. the things she asked me were things i've kept unspoken and as hidden as possible for years now. but she just wanted to know what was going on, catching up on the situation and confirming some things she'd suspected. and as she asked me these questions, and i answered her, a funny thing happened. i started asking myself some questions about the answers i was giving. i gave her a complete and accurate description of the situation as it actually is (i mean, she guessed a lot of it. it wouldn't have been right to lie), and as i heard myself speak, i thought, you know, the things you're saying to her are true, and they are also completely insane. if you were listening to this, you would take the speaker by the shoulders and shake her, telling her how crazy she is for dealing with this.


the party ended last night, and the hangover with which i greeted today was vicious. but once i got it out of my system and started dressing for the day, i looked at the situation i was in with a new twist. i looked around and said to myself, this has simply got to stop. there's no good that comes from this anymore. and all it took to slap me across the face and wake me the hell up was a couple of awkward questions late at night on the patio of a bar, drinking cheap beer and catching up with friends.

so thanks for the perspective, hon. you've saved me from myself in a way i didn't realize i needed to be saved. certain truths should be self-evident, but when they're not, it's the best service you can give someone to gently point that out.

blocked

it was supposed to be an easy night. a short morning in class, a gorgeous sunny day, some good study progress, then a quick trip out for food and a movie with a friend. nice. simple. but no, we don't do simple anymore in this life, apparently. i was all settled in my seat, ready to go, and bang: the phone buzzed. damn push notifications, i thought; i KNOW the lakers won, you don't have to tell me five times from three different apps. but no, this time it was a phone call. at 12:34 AM. from a blocked number. for the third time in 48 hours.

so consider me unnerved. i mean, it's not like i'm completely alone right now, with drama all around me and a ton of stress to sap my vigilance. oh wait - that's EXACTLY what it's like. there are weird things at work in my life, stressful, paranoia-inducing surprises at every freaking turn. and the best part? i've opened the door to all of this. damn it all. this had better just be an extraordinary inappropriate telemarketer. if not... well, i don't know what to do. but let this be public record: three calls, blocked number. june 15, 5:32 PM; june 17, 10:26 PM; june 18, 12:34 AM. all times eastern. let's hope it's nothing. it is nothing.

right?

postpartum

i run a big volunteer program at my law school. well, ran, anyway - it ended today. i've been planning this project all year long, and with a rush of excited activity, we wrapped it tonight. i have amazing lieutenants in this endeavor, and we did one hell of a job. happy customers, happy administration, and a very satisfied feeling for me.

but.

yeah, there's always a but, isn't there? i've done this program every year of law school, with ever-increasing responsibility. the whole show was mine this year. and now, it's over. just like that. i just don't know what to do with myself at this point. i'm a little sad, to be honest. i mean, now what am i going to do? (i mean, besides study and drink, like i usually do.) it's such a weird thing, especially with the realization that it's a mere six weeks until i move away. six. weeks. i am so happy to get out on my own that i could scream... but there's that weird feeling of let-down that goes with it.

it's all coming to an end. no matter how great that feels, there's something... sad, i guess, too. nothing's ever simple.