After Pidge and I had the The Big Hairy Talk last weekend, we agreed that we’d set aside time each week for a check-in with each other. Yesterday I made the comment that we had to have another talk, meaning it had been almost a week. You should have seen her--her eyes were like saucers full of panic, her face turned a lovely shade of celadon, and she started swallowing convulsively, as though she were being forced to eat lima beans. She may have wet herself slightly, but I didn’t want to ask.
I reassured her it was just a check in, then we joked about having to struggle to find a topic. Eventually, we ended up discussing a lot of things; logistics, dating, being an abuse survivor, compersion, sexual histories. It was a truly good, relaxed talk with no stress attached.
Then she left for work, and I lost my mind. No other way to look at it, and what’s even worse, I did it to myself. I chose to start fixating on the past, I chose to read old letters that renewed the bad feelings, I chose to get angry and upset all over again. Why?
Then, to top it off, I started to make the crazy contagious by texting her about how upset I was. Because, you know…when she’s moving around three dozen 40’ long buses is a good time to stress the girl out. I’m the Master Of Good Timing. I suggested options for resolving my lingering doubts. She reminded me gently that we had already talked about that, and why we’d decided it wouldn’t work. I flailed and floundered and freaked a bit more, then it passed and I was okay again. Truly, a prime example of WTF??
I was left with some ugly questions. Why can’t I get over this? Why can’t I move on? When it feels like I have moved on, why do I choose to rush back into the bad stuff? What do I gain by acting this way?
Right now there is a pedal car in our dining room. My daughter is in the middle of restoring it. It’s half done, can’t get wet by going back outside, and we have no real place to store it. So it sits on the floor, and everyone walks around it, trips over it, runs it into the table leg, but until she’s done the work it will sit there, in the way. This feels like the same thing. I have this problem. It trips me up, I keep running into it, it hinders the smooth operation of my life. And yet, until I do the work to fix it once and for all….I have nowhere else to put it. And every time I pull it out to work on it, I’m stuck. It hurts just about as much as it did when it first happened. I can’t figure out what the issue is…not knowing enough? Knowing too much? Not being able to forgive? Not being able to rebuild trust? All I know for sure is that we’re both tired of tripping over it.
On the good side, in real life, my large black and white cat has taken to getting in the pedal car and sitting inside as though he were preparing to go for a nice Sunday drive. The other cats wander around next to the car, envious, while he sits proudly in the driver’s seat. Makes us all laugh every time.