364
days since I have posted. I haven't been to therapy in ages either. I would venture to say its because of Dereks. Having a boyfriend does not solve all of your problems. In fact, it creates many of them, like the "where did my leftovers go" problem, the "how did my laundry pile double" problem, and the "why is there suddenly no room in my bed" problem. But living with a mirror that reflects back a better picture of yourself than you have the power to create solves, or mitigates, at least, the problems of self-destruction and pointless criticism.
He says that my soft bed drew him in my cooking with love kept him going, my conversation made him stay. These things, tits and ass aside, these are things that he can delineate, perceive, describe, and explain. He has let me occupy him, and though he likes to be by himself, he has been busy just being with me. I have felt no desperation, and have been confused, as before I thought that love must mean being terrified, stuck alone with too much to feel and no one who could understand my emotional pyrotechnics. I am still sort of reeling because in being with him I have had to redefine how caring about a man makes me feel (simply: not crappy, quite happy.) Before I always my sexual experiences, any experiences to be sharp,edged with a bit of bright danger to remind me that I was alive, not depressed with blunted capacities to feel. Now, for the first time, I am enjoying feeling safe. Looked after. Enveloped in care. This is the most important part of growing up- learning to find people that are not disposable, because it helps you to feel less so yourself- less transient, deathbound,fatalistic - even if we are all hurtling towards disaster. He feels like, and he is, my home, my landing, the steadfast rock of this life-age, one word, in the midst of all of waters of forever, that means "yes" and "peace" at the same time.
He says that my soft bed drew him in my cooking with love kept him going, my conversation made him stay. These things, tits and ass aside, these are things that he can delineate, perceive, describe, and explain. He has let me occupy him, and though he likes to be by himself, he has been busy just being with me. I have felt no desperation, and have been confused, as before I thought that love must mean being terrified, stuck alone with too much to feel and no one who could understand my emotional pyrotechnics. I am still sort of reeling because in being with him I have had to redefine how caring about a man makes me feel (simply: not crappy, quite happy.) Before I always my sexual experiences, any experiences to be sharp,edged with a bit of bright danger to remind me that I was alive, not depressed with blunted capacities to feel. Now, for the first time, I am enjoying feeling safe. Looked after. Enveloped in care. This is the most important part of growing up- learning to find people that are not disposable, because it helps you to feel less so yourself- less transient, deathbound,fatalistic - even if we are all hurtling towards disaster. He feels like, and he is, my home, my landing, the steadfast rock of this life-age, one word, in the midst of all of waters of forever, that means "yes" and "peace" at the same time.