Everything is Wrong. I Hate it Here. Again.
I'll be honest - sometimes I really don't know what to write here anymore. I feel that so many years of expressing my angst, struggles, triumphs and defeats in San Francisco both empowered and deflated me in terms of expressing myself about my life.
But I just don't know what to do, besides write it out.
Patrick isn't doing well. He's adjusted like a fish to water, he has a job and he's got a pretty good situation going. But the mental health level in this household is tenuous to say the least. Our relationship is in trouble in a lot of ways, and though I remain optimistic it's so hard to keep a good grip on the nice parts.
He didn't want a relationship and found himself in one, back in the beginning. I didn't want a relationship and found myself in one - but unlike him, I'd had five years of self-imposed freedom. I can totally understand his uncomfortable position, I can understand that the stress makes it worse and I understand that his real desire was solitude, after all.
But we continue to at least try to carry on, because there's a lot of good here. It's just shattering in a lot of ways to feel as though things are crumbling. We're not breaking up, we're not separating, but so much work has to be done. So much effort on both our parts. I keep hearing "Real love should be effortless." It's bullshit. Nothing with me will ever be effortless.
And then, while Patrick is having an easy time adjusting in general to Seattle (honestly, he truly completely loves it here) and Washington, I'm having a really, really rough re-entry to my hometown. I feel resentment that I tore myself from the life I'd spent so much physical and emotional blood, sweat and tears to create for myself. I feel lonely and isolated. I miss my go-to places to run to escape when I feel trapped.
I just don't know what to do. I'm miserably unhappy sometimes, a lot of the time, being here.
In fact, it feels like the same existential misery I felt when I arrived in San Francisco, and I'm terrified to go through that same feeling of clawing my way into a new life.
And, while I am happy that I can live with my family for now, and be able to save some money, relax from my financial trouble a bit and reengage with my parents, my brother, and my soon-to-be sister-in-law, I don't know if it's worth it. The constant money trouble was a pain that I was used to, to quote Depeche Mode. Now, I feel as though I've been bought, in some ways.
God I miss San Francisco. I miss it so fucking much. I don't know if I'll ever have here what I had there.
But I just don't know what to do, besides write it out.
Patrick isn't doing well. He's adjusted like a fish to water, he has a job and he's got a pretty good situation going. But the mental health level in this household is tenuous to say the least. Our relationship is in trouble in a lot of ways, and though I remain optimistic it's so hard to keep a good grip on the nice parts.
He didn't want a relationship and found himself in one, back in the beginning. I didn't want a relationship and found myself in one - but unlike him, I'd had five years of self-imposed freedom. I can totally understand his uncomfortable position, I can understand that the stress makes it worse and I understand that his real desire was solitude, after all.
But we continue to at least try to carry on, because there's a lot of good here. It's just shattering in a lot of ways to feel as though things are crumbling. We're not breaking up, we're not separating, but so much work has to be done. So much effort on both our parts. I keep hearing "Real love should be effortless." It's bullshit. Nothing with me will ever be effortless.
And then, while Patrick is having an easy time adjusting in general to Seattle (honestly, he truly completely loves it here) and Washington, I'm having a really, really rough re-entry to my hometown. I feel resentment that I tore myself from the life I'd spent so much physical and emotional blood, sweat and tears to create for myself. I feel lonely and isolated. I miss my go-to places to run to escape when I feel trapped.
I just don't know what to do. I'm miserably unhappy sometimes, a lot of the time, being here.
In fact, it feels like the same existential misery I felt when I arrived in San Francisco, and I'm terrified to go through that same feeling of clawing my way into a new life.
And, while I am happy that I can live with my family for now, and be able to save some money, relax from my financial trouble a bit and reengage with my parents, my brother, and my soon-to-be sister-in-law, I don't know if it's worth it. The constant money trouble was a pain that I was used to, to quote Depeche Mode. Now, I feel as though I've been bought, in some ways.
God I miss San Francisco. I miss it so fucking much. I don't know if I'll ever have here what I had there.