Communication Breakdown
I am a very complicated person. I mean one thing, and tomorrow I mean another. Yesterday I was happy, today I'm depressed, and God knows what tomorrow will bring. If I even get there.
I'm not a creature of habit. I hate the routine of day to day life, and I often try to change it up just to feel something different. I do not sit well with the casual, nor the extreme. I fit somewhere in between, probably with the wide majority of others wandering through life.
I don't talk about my feelings, I write them down. From age 8 I've kept journals, and I still have them all. Sure my writing has evolved, from cute puppy dog journals with red crayon to plain covers with blue ink, but the effort put into them is still the same. I write to get things out. That is how I cope with my mental disorder. I pray, I read my Bible, and I write.
Enter Conor. He's a wonderful thing, a wonderful man. He's just as uncertain about life as I am. He does not know what each day brings, but he fights the fight and lives knowing he at least tried. Conor is an extremely open person, telling me everything on his mind, good or bad. When it comes my turn to share, I hesitate and only tell about the good things. I don't mention what bothers me, for multiple reasons:
1. I feel very uncomfortable putting my feelings on someone else, like a burden.
2. I would much rather write them out instead of talk them out.
3. Why start a fight over something I can easily deal with myself?
These are excuses, I know. And our relationship is beginning to fail. Because we don't communitcate.
No, because I don't communicate. With him.
So how do I go from keeping my mouth shut and my pen to paper for EIGHTEEN YEARS, to suddenly knowing how to explain everything I feel?
I don't know how to do that. But I need to try.
Or I'll lose him for good.
I'm not a creature of habit. I hate the routine of day to day life, and I often try to change it up just to feel something different. I do not sit well with the casual, nor the extreme. I fit somewhere in between, probably with the wide majority of others wandering through life.
I don't talk about my feelings, I write them down. From age 8 I've kept journals, and I still have them all. Sure my writing has evolved, from cute puppy dog journals with red crayon to plain covers with blue ink, but the effort put into them is still the same. I write to get things out. That is how I cope with my mental disorder. I pray, I read my Bible, and I write.
Enter Conor. He's a wonderful thing, a wonderful man. He's just as uncertain about life as I am. He does not know what each day brings, but he fights the fight and lives knowing he at least tried. Conor is an extremely open person, telling me everything on his mind, good or bad. When it comes my turn to share, I hesitate and only tell about the good things. I don't mention what bothers me, for multiple reasons:
1. I feel very uncomfortable putting my feelings on someone else, like a burden.
2. I would much rather write them out instead of talk them out.
3. Why start a fight over something I can easily deal with myself?
These are excuses, I know. And our relationship is beginning to fail. Because we don't communitcate.
No, because I don't communicate. With him.
So how do I go from keeping my mouth shut and my pen to paper for EIGHTEEN YEARS, to suddenly knowing how to explain everything I feel?
I don't know how to do that. But I need to try.
Or I'll lose him for good.