A Hand to Hold

I didn't sleep well last night. I haven't managed to get in bed before midnight for a month. I had sad dreams last night of Mr. G and me at some restaurant making the acquaintance of other couples at a large picnic table. He held my hand the whole time and I remember thinking, "It's so nice to have his hand to hold."

Then, he got up and sidled up next to another woman and started holding her hand like it's the most natural thing in the world. And, in true OB fashion, yours truly slinked away silently, unnoticed, forgotten.

A friend of mine said the opposite of love isn't hate; it's apathy. I have experienced the shock and sting of apathy before, the awareness that someone has no interest whatsoever in how you are and does a fine job of going forth in the world without missing you at all. I don't think that's the case here, which comforts me sometimes.

In the year that I was with Mr. G, our relationship had gradually become the most important thing in my life, and I orchestrated most everything around it. Even when I took a weeklong trip to California without him -- a decision I struggled with for a long time before I finally decided at the last minute to go -- it was wholly based on the state of our relationship at that point, and I felt I shouldn't deny myself a good opportunity just because he wasn't going.

If I were a good Christian woman, Christ would be the most important thing. And if there was ever a good time for me to make Him #1, it's now.

But who am I fooling. My sadness has become the most important thing. That unruly child (see "Playlist" entry) runs the show. And she gets all my time and attention these days. I'm tired of her, but it feels like she's the only link to the emotional security I once felt that I have remaining.

On his myspace profile, Mr. G tells the world he's been married before and that he's been in several heart-breaking long-term relationships, but has changed and grown since then. Was I one of those relationships? And how can one change and grow in a month? I can say unequivocably that, while I know change and growth are taking place, I'm no different than I was a month ago. Faced with the same choices I had then, or a year ago, I'd probably do the same thing and make the same mistakes (provided they were mistakes, which I'm not sure they were. I understand that life involves risk and sometimes shit just happens).

So what lessons has he learned? Never to date someone whose feelings don't match his pace? Never to date someone who struggles sometimes to communicate? I really want to know what it is he's learned. Perhaps he's been too kind to tell me what a fuckup he thinks I am.

God, I wish someone would comment on this blog. Is anyone reading this?

I can't let Brat (the unruly child) run the show anymore. She isn't helping me. She's a glutton for punishment and she's a big ball of fear, anxiety and self-blame. And she has an all-or-nothing way of thinking, insisting that there are only one or two people on this planet who could tolerate her nail-biting, smoking and snoring (not that those who tolerated them liked them, but they had enough depth and compassion not to make them deal-breakers).

I want Mr. G to be happy. No question. I want him to have a hand to hold.

But I want to be the first one to find mine.