Day 68


Let’s explore the most recent incident: “I think you hate me”.  These words spoken by the woman I love, the absolute antithesis of how I feel about her.

So I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this: it has gotten to the point that the level of conflict, the regularity of stress, the constancy of struggle, these things have made it seem that I don’t appreciate her.  More than that, these things have made her feel like I don’t appreciate her.  Given the scars, I see her from different eyes than I once did, but this is also given the laughter, given the smiles, given the holding hands, given the leaning, given the learning, given the explosions, given the life we’ve lived so far.  The difference is that these scars are grains of salt that will be washed away when the bitter winter has passed.  Two imperfect puzzle pieces we are (imperfect pieces that fit so snugly), that because of previous events, have grains of salt stuck between.  We will get them out, but until then, they will be abrasive, they will cause sparks, but they will never wear us down.  These grains of salt, bigger now than they will ever be, so that retrospectively, they will seem tiny, insignificant and will be ignored (case in point, the first summer together – passionate love and passionate conflict, grains of salt between our puzzle pieces that made us fit tighter and now, seem distant figments of time).

I will never forget those words.  I will never forget that she got to that point.  I will probably never forgive myself for putting us in that position.  Not to absolve her of all guilt (or ignoring all the factors that brought me into this darkness, this blackness-dominated time) or martyr myself, but that’s the way it feels right now: “what the fuck did I do wrong…?”

I will also never give those words more power than they deserve, letting them be a permanent grain of salt between us – neither of us will.  I will also never let myself drive down that path of martyrdom, thinking that it’s all my fault, because since untrue, that path will not lead us to answers, just deception.  It’s the reason why she kept going to therapy afterwards, because she knows the true path lies in a space between her and me and my surroundings and my job…

Even if she didn’t read this, all of it would be true.  The fact that she does read this, that she’s the only one that reads this, shows that I admire her beauty, adore her genius, revere her amazingness and love her dearly.  There are 85 instances of the word “love” used in the past 67 days of writing, most of which I would attribute to her.  The only references to “hate”?  About myself…

So then the question becomes: what am I going to do to let her know I appreciate her?  Part of it is convincing her to look up, to see the loving actions that I do and help her smile about them.  But I know that it is not a one-person team, I want to do more for her, always.  I want to help her pursue her dreams, her passions in food and art.  I want to make her feel more comfortable with herself, with her beauty and her essence.  I want to break through my sex hang-ups to give her the comfort to be spontaneous around sex like we are with so many other elements of our relationship.  I want to show her I love her with loving actions like expressing gratitude and appreciation, because I am grateful and appreciative of her.

I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her.


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