I can’t believe that I’ve let this much time go by without comment here except of course I can believe it because that’s kinda my jam now. There are a lot of online spaces for me to share my sage wisdom so, you know, neglect. And I just don’t know what the purpose of this space is. On the other hand, I am attached to it.
So here I am reluctantly updating my resume. School has been going so well but work has slowly been getting questionable. Someone puked, like, a whole bunch in my office last week and that I’m totally fine with. I love working with people with substance abuse issues. Love it. For this silly career I’m pursuing, I have another 800 hours of internship that need to be completed in the next two years and if my current workplace can’t accommodate that it is simply not worth me staying there. I wouldn’t have imagined a problem with doing internship at work but there may be a problem, so that was a shitty surprise.
I’m still in love, no big deal.
It is funny to look back at the last several months because it was a lot of he doesn’t care about me and nobody ever will pining when we were just on different schedules. When we were casual and stopped seeing each other it was always some conflict or me feeling clingy and telling him he was bad for my feelings and ending it prematurely and angsty separation followed by reconciling. I don’t know what my relationship would look like if I were secure. I am resolved to keep my fear from destroying me.
So it’s not like things are perfect, in that communication is an issue and we both have a lot going on emotionally, but it’s so worth it. I have never been with anyone like ohmyfuckinggodican’teven…it’s just…there are these moments where it does feel perfect. Fucking just…the best. Amazeballs. Awesome sauce. As I’ve alluded to many a time here, love makes it hard to talk pretty. I have the head feelings and the pants feelings. He makes me laugh. He’s smart and sensitive and has good, Christian-loathing values. UGHHHHHHHHHH IT’S SO OBNOXIOUSLY THE BEST.
[Considering that we aren’t waiting three years to address our issues and then exploding all over town, the outlook is bright. And that, nonexistent internet reader, is the last comment I will ever make about that relationship that one time where I almost got married.]
I’m lucky, no big deal.
Hamlet is my primary source of attachment anxiety now. In class last weekend our instructor was talking about impermanence and how we are culturally bound to so much and attach to things when truly not a single thing we cling to could last forever. “What are you attached to?” she asked us.
And I thought:
Same cat, same stuffed turtle he’s sucking. Hamlet knew me before I was a best-selling self-help author with a no-nonsense straight-talk empire to rival Suze Orman.