I Wish

I wish I could look at him and not have my heart go into my throat and my eyes get watery.

I wish I could talk to him.

I wish I could be in the same area where I don’t feel like I am constantly avoiding him – constantly avoiding him because I want to avoid the emotions I have when I see him, or hear his voice.

I wish I could hear about other people’s kinks – their times with playmates – and not find myself pushing and shoving away feelings of sadness.  I wish I could hear them, think of my own and smile.

I wish for it to pass. I wish for a way to compartmentalize my emotions – for me to push them aside, slap on a smile, and pretend nothing is wrong.

But it is not me.

While each day gets better, it is still not to a place where I can do some of these things.

Someone tonight saw my mask drop, squeezed my arm, and reassured me they got it before changing the subject to one that allowed me to try to put back on my mask.

Someone else said to me the words I have been feeling.  He gave me a hug and said he understood – felt my pain, and I felt his.  We had an amazing conversation – one brought forth by the shared fact that neither one of us knows what we want anymore.  Just not this feeling.

So many blurbs – so many micro-conversations that were totally out of the blue, unsolicited, but both reassured me and frustrated me how hard this is.  And what I loved about all of them – the fact that each simply gave me reassurance when I said aloud that I will always love him – that they got it – they understood it – and they knew how I felt.  No judgement. No “OMG how can you do that after everything”. No me feeling like I have to say nothing – slap on a happy face – and pretend. And no telling me or saying to me how they had to protect or hate on my behalf or any of that other nonsense that drives me crazy.

I wish things were different. I wish things hadn’t ended with a moment of silence. I wish things could have ended with dialog – not written words of respect and actions that didn’t match.  I do wish it. I get it. But I don’t like it.  Funny how that works.

I know it will get better.  It IS getting better.  I just know me – I know when I’ve had a long fucking day at work, like I had today, that I cannot fake my way through things.  I cannot pretend all is fine.  It isn’t who I am.

But what I can say is this – I neither puffed up my feathers to pretend all was well – nor did I shrink myself to hide.  Instead, I kept true to me.  I was me.  I laughed. I paid attention and I participated with authenticity to who I am.  And that is something I am happy about – something I am proud of.  Because that, for me, is not easy.  It is not my default setting. I learned long ago that faking it is not something I can do – so don’t do it.  I am happy I am holding true to that.

It’s progress.

But I’m still scared.

It it still not easy.

So progress is all I have.

What do you think?