Wishy washy

Lately, especially today, I've had this weird feeling that I couldn't quite put my finger on. It's as if I'm on roller skates and I've forgotten how to stop. So I can keep going until I hit a wall, I can make myself fall on my ass, or I can hope for rescue.

But I'm not someone used to being rescued.

That leaves me with two painful options.

The main thing seems to be deciphering my feelings for my lover. I know I have them. I know they are big feelings. But I'm blocked from accessing all of them, from getting comfortable enough to swim in them, get deep inside and live there with them. And I think it goes back to a conversation he and I had during the summer. He was telling me his concerns about our relationship and about me. What I took most to heart was that my need for help was exhausting, my depression was exhausting, and he was having trouble seeing me as the forever partner he thought I was.

It hurt my soul to hear it. I think I haven't figured out how to heal that yet.

I think I am living in fear of being a disappointment to him. It doesn't matter that I've been disappointed. It doesn't matter that my heart has hurt, that my soul aches from slights and phrases and knowing that someone who had no right to hurt me, did so carelessly. My brain won't see logic. It is stubborn in that surety: I am the problem. I am always the problem. I am a flawed and broken woman who can only hope to one day meet a partner who will look me upside down and inside out and go "eh. Could be worse."

Obviously I am being a smart-ass.

I don't know what this feeling in my gut is, but it's not anger. It's not rage. It's not sorrow or guilt or woe. It's not a lump of despair in my belly.

So the question then is: what the hell is it? What does it mean? Why is it there?

And where should I go from here?

L.