Daily Mundane#30: To My Love, a Steam of Consciousness
12/10/15, Corner Lake, 3:04 PM
stream of con·scious·ness | noun | Psychology. a literary style in which a character’s thoughts, feelings, and reactions are depicted in a continuous flow uninterrupted by objective description or conventional dialogue.
DISCLAIMER: With that being said, there is no concern because this work has no point. There is no objective, no idea I’m trying to convey. Just several somewhat-relevant thoughts thrown up on paper.
1 -
There are so many words I could use to describe you and how you value or view communication. You’re picky. A perfectionist. Peculiar. Whatever I use, even you have said it: you just don’t socialize or communicate like the masses.
That’s definitely true. Something I’d believe most if not all the people close to you are aware of.
For me, this isn’t a bad thing. This idealistic way you prefer for things to be absolute—to be straightforward—is something I truly admire about you. It is part of you that makes you so starkly different from other people… something I love. You want things at face value. While you are open to compromises and hearing other options/opinions, overall you favor having things work in the way you yourself do: upfront.
2 -
Having a real conversation with you is often like a physics problem. You have to have all the parts in the right units for the system to work.
Diction, right down to the definition of the word choice as words can often be misconstrued
Tone/how body language plays into what the message is
Timing of when we say what we do and how long it takes for us to reply
Something I’m hoping you already know is that I work very hard to communicate with you. Not just because I need to because I’m predisposed to be an awful communicator and want to better myself, but also because I want to be with you and therefore feel the need to understand your style of communication. I want to meld into how you do and say things so that I can accurately understand you or convey ideas to you.
3 -
It’s not easy learning to conform to how you communicate. Sometimes after we have a tiff, I get discouraged. “What if it will never be enough?”
This hypothetical isn’t something I’m concerned with, though. It’s akin to other hypotheticals such as, “What if he were really an alien?” or “What if I hugged him and he disappeared into pixie dust?” Or I guess, more realistically, it’s like the same as asking, “What if one day the sex bores you?”
It’s a possibility and we may never know if it happens. Asking those questions is futile.
4 -
I want to do everything in my power to make you happy, or in parallel just stop anything that makes you unhappy. From back rubs to making sure your hair is right before you go to work, giving you extra attention when I know you had a bad day… Again, in parallel, not arguing when I’m in a mood or making sure I don’t say something I do not mean, or not feeding you raw chicken and giving you salmonella.
I just hope the things I do, including trying to communicate, don’t get lost in translation when we have petty fights or get annoyed with each other.
I guess no matter who you are with, there will be times where you get aggravated, say things you don’t mean, or argue. Miscommunication will always happen. I really do try my best to make sure they don’t when I can help it. I put effort into the little things when I remember to.
5 -
I love you. If there were a different way to say that I would, but I just absolutely adore you. I talk about you with lit up eyes like a kid at Christmas. You’re very special to me and I want to see you succeed and be happy. I’m always working towards making sure I can be something that augments that.
Sidenote: if you tell someone they hurt you and they turn it around on you and have you second guessing your feelings or apologizing, you are being manipulated.
I see a lot of posts about how people think relationships mean having butterflies forever, your heart beating faster when they walk into a room, about cuddling together every night, legs intertwined, that you’d be so happy to live together you’d sleep on a double bed with each other every night.
And its not really like that, at least not to me.
You stop getting the butterflies when you live together. Your heart no longer speeds up when you see them, but instead, everything calms down. When you’re in the room with them, you feel calm, and secure. When you cuddle them you feel your heart beat slow, and the sound of their breathing carry you towards comfort.
It doesn’t feel like a roller coaster anymore, it feels like home.
You don’t sleep curled up with each other every night, legs twisted between theirs so tight its hard to tell where yours begin and theirs end. Instead, you sleep comfortably, side by side, sometimes facing different directions. But every night, you find yourself scooting backwards on the bed so you bump into them. You snuggle against their arm, or stroke their hair as they fall asleep. There are nights when my boyfriend, in his sleep, reaches around me and pulls me to him, like a child with his teddy bear, like I am his comfort.
In the wee hours of the morning before the dawn breaks, when the world is blue and you see through cracked eyes, you curl into their chest and inhale their scent before drifting back to sleep.
Kisses aren’t always romantic and fiery anymore. There are cold kisses when you’re eating ice cream in the summer, and sticky kisses over breakfast pancakes. There’s, “I’m leaving now,” kisses, and, “One more kiss before you go,” kisses. There’s sleepy morning kisses before work, when you don’t remember the alarm going off but instead the press of their lips against yours is what brings you into the day.
There’s kisses before sleep, and, “You are so sweet with the things you do,” kisses. There’s quick kisses in the aisles of the grocery store, when its loud and you gravitate together, when instead of having your own personal space and their own personal space, its both of yours together, and you step into their chest to take up less area together.
You don’t always text each other with confessions of love and care like you used to, because that’s a given now, and you’ve moved on to quirky inside jokes about the life you’ve built together. You share looks of exasperation and amusement in public, your own little world against the outside one.
Relationships aren’t always a fairy tale. They’re not always fireworks and sparks, at least, after the start.
But they are a quiet rhythm and hum of love and care. It’s not a fire in your soul, but one in your hearth, keeping you warm and comfortable, comforting you as you drowsily drift into sleep.
The closer you get to someone, the clearer their faults become.
That's just the way it goes.
This is why marriages fail, people are abandoned, friendships don't last... You might think you love someone until you see how they are when they're under pressure, hungry, poor, hurt, or struggling.
Love is being with someone despite their filthy heart.
It's seeing the darkness in someone and defying the urge to get out.
I suppose we all define love differently.
For me it's calling someone, 'Asshole,' and smiling about it. It's Facetime calls at 8AM when you're apart just to say, 'Good morning.' It's sharing selfies because you think you look good one day. It's being honest about how you feel, blurting it out without thinking.
Love is unclear, often sloppy. It's never how you expect it, yet somehow all the smiles tell you it's perfect in its own way.
You get up in the morning to make them breakfast, join them in their hobbies even when you're not wholeheartedly interested, or sing the wrong lyrics just to get a laugh...
For me, that's love.
Bryce asks me why I call him, “Love of my life.” I think part of him is concerned I’m getting too attached and that it’s foolish to say such things given, “We haven’t been together that long.”
If that is what he’s thinking, he’s looking too deeply into it.
In reality, he has this title by process of elimination. Despite our short time together, I can confidently and objectively say I have never loved anyone more than I love Bryce. Though I have much of my life yet to live, up to this point he has been the, yes, love of my life.
Between friends and loved ones, I’ve always kept everyone else at arm’s length. I’ve always kept one foot on the ground, never letting anyone in and therefore never loving anyone fully. With my previous romantic relationships, part of me was absent. Regardless of how rotten that sounds, it’s the truth.
By some combination of fear, selfishness, and pure ignorance I was not utterly ardently invested, I held more power over others and could not be hurt so deeply. This part of my past isn’t something I’m proud of, but it’s something I am willing to own up to now that I see a bigger picture and a brighter light. It’s not that I didn’t care. I did. I was passionate, concerned; I still felt sorrow when they left my life. But at the time, that was the “love” I knew, the “love” I was capable of. At the time, I didn’t know anything different, that having love really work meant giving your entire self, uncensored and unrestricted. All of me and all of you, as John Legend (or his writers) put it.
Now I am capable of so much more: mature love, romantically and as a support system platonically. Part of that can be thanks to Bryce who has taught me the importance of not “sugar-coating,” of being direct. Who I am now is not to his own avail completely, though, but due to my growth as a person. I’ve come to terms with my mistakes, how I acted and its consequences, who I have been in the past. I’m not the same person I was four years ago or three or two. I’m not even the same person I was when I started dating Bryce. I am constantly rising to understanding more of myself and the world with each passing day, and I work and adjust to what I’m learning to be the best person I can be. I’m evolving existentially, as we all do and arguably never stop doing.
I’ve reached a new plane of emotions, of humanity. And the bottom line is that I care for Bryce more than thought I could care at all. I have never worked and wished for someone else’s happiness, good health, and safety at this degree, nor have I ever been hurt by another person’s words so deeply or been so profoundly disturbed by the mere idea of losing someone.
Now with the possibility of separating because of living conditions, I’m scrambling. I’ve spent the past few hours looking for some place for us to rent together, given our current plans don’t go through soon (finding somewhere to rent has proved to be difficult or expensive, given that everyone in Florida rents by the month to tourists).
I’ve been telling Bryce that if it comes down to it and we have to part ways, I’d be okay. We’d walk in opposite directions, unlikely friends, and just get on with our lives, right?
Truly, I would be okay eventually. But I am surrounded by memories–all the post-its and pictures, the games we’ve played together, the hanging air freshener on the rear-view mirror of my car, a simple deck of cards, even just the mention of PC gaming—and I am afraid. Bryce and I started off as strangers. Now he is what’s familiar; he’s integrated into practically every aspect of my life and I can’t help but be fearful of becoming strangers again.
“This isn’t going to change us.”
I hope you’re right, darling.
With all my heart I hope you’re right. Because I could live with you doing you or chasing your dreams or having to do whats best for yourself; I could live if you really had to be without me.
But without you I’d be miserable at the very best.
It’s easy to get caught up in contrasting principles. I believe most people don’t process consequences and circumstances at a complete 100% capacity; even when we try to see things from another person’s point of view, rarely do we sit down and to consider it in its entirety, absolutely.
Getting caught in a double standard is probably more likely for people like me than any. Not because I’m necessarily inconsiderate, but because I have a tendency to get caught up. I throw jokes on a whim where they are inappropriate, say and often act upon how I’m thinking and feeling at a certain point in time rather than in a general sense… Without fully considering consequences, I find myself in trouble.
-
Bryce once described his paranoia to me as similar to my anxiety: it’s often irrational, sometimes stemming from one minute instance—a slight change in tone, shift in body language, a word.
It’s something he can’t help sometimes. It’s a part of him like my anxiety is a part of me. Not a definition of us as people in essence, and maybe not things that will be with us permanently, but conflicts within that potentially get in the way of living satisfied and thinking like “normal” human beings.
This description has helped me approach him and understand him in a better light. But, I’ll admit, even being aware of this and learning to treat his paranoia like my own disorder (paranoia is an extension of anxious thoughts if you think about it, really), when Bryce gets paranoid over something small, like my diction or poorly-placed jokes, a part of me gets initially irked. Often worried, too. “Seriously? It’s been 24 hours and we are still discussing the wording I used in a conversation?
Occasionally I even question if this part of him could potentially tear us apart.
But as that moment passes, I sit down and think about the [likely many] times I’ve put Bryce in a situation where he’s probably thought the same. It’s not fair to blame him or accuse him. After all, with me It only takes words; something he said with the intention to be funny or some statement in the heat of the moment and I’m running away on a treadmill in the gym, walking in the dark, or escaping in my car.
I’m much worse in regards to succumbing to these these crazy thoughts and letting them influence my life. Though in a way our problems are similar, it’s not exactly easy to grasp and quell. And I know that. And he knows that.
And he stays anyway. Probably one of, if not the, best way he expresses his concern for me.
So yeah, sometimes when he gets paranoid it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It leaves me on edge, uncomfortable. But I do my best not to be bothered; I want to accept him and let him know that though it’s hard I’ll work with him and stay with him, too.
I’ll accept you and learn the ins and outs of how you operate, because I care and want to support you just as you do with me.
-
It’s funny. With all the wreckage, literally in some ways, going on in his life and the state of frequent panic I've been in, we've somehow managed stick it out and hang on with each other through the worst. Maybe I speak for myself, but that alone gives me great hope for the future.
It originates from my personal belief that those who are truly important are not those who come into your life peacefully. They make you question things, change your reality. They mark a before and after in your life.
They do not embody the idealization of love everyone hails, but are ordinary people, who manage to revolutionize your world by just being there and being them while you’re just being you.
-
Regardless how Bryce and I end up, I know for sure he’s been a pivotal point in my life. I’ve learned and grown so much in his arms, I couldn’t regret it if I tried.
Like anything else in the natural world, we’re constantly evolving. I look back on certain posts and disagree with the me who wrote them then, even the most recent. But that’s expected, yeah? I write in a distinct frame of mind, within a specific time, while particular emotions run on high...
Part of the point with these journal-type things is going back and reading about how we thought and felt on a certain occasion, right?
--
I don’t think I was completely conscious of it the entire time, but for what seems like months, I’ve been going through some slewed rainbow of emotions brought on by a combination of hormones, stress, and my anxiety. Luckily, with the hodgepodge, I’ve come to terms with some things..
I’m a demigod of potential. They’ve always called me a workaholic. I’ve been titled someone to admire because she takes on so much and coasts by well. I put a lot on my plate. I’ve done it for so long it’s led me to be full and partly lazy. Coming into college, I’ve wanted to relax after a feast I’ve been having for years. I would even argue I went on a diet; I’ve mentioned in several previous posts that I just don’t put my best foot forward, that I’ve latched onto a certain apathy, and don’t care about the details after undergrad. Hell, my last post was an extended metaphor about being hungry (or not, in my case).
I’ve had my doubts and my breakdowns. I think that’s more than fair in my situation: more hours than the average full-time student, two physically strenuous part-time jobs, family matters, and a serious relationship that I’m dedicated to nurturing wholeheartedly. Granted with my disorder my panic is a little more frequent, but still it is arguably a lot to handle.
For a long time, I didn’t believe I could do it. These months, I’ve felt low, insufficient, and I’ve let it push me a few steps back.
But I can do this. And I want everything I set out for when I was that hopeful high school junior. With graduation creeping closer, I’ll have to play catch-up to get to where I will be satisfied. But I can’t let loose sight of all the good things I have going for me.
I’m not hideous
I have people who care about me, an income, a home
I’m good at numerous things. Maybe not an expert, but I could train myself to work with almost anything.
I’m kind. I give an actual shit (which is often more than I can say for a lot of the people I’ve met in the time I’ve spent in college), the driving force behind my actions.
I mean, if I’m going to do this--and I mean really do this--sacrifices will be made somewhere. Already I’m feeling the sting of having to isolate myself from leisure. Sometimes I can’t even physically be around Bryce (he doesn’t bug me directly, but its hard for me to concentrate around someone else, now more than usual because of circumstances that keep him home more) and spend more time on school. Serious school. Not half-assed yes-I-did-technically-study shit.
But that’s okay. I’m doing what I have to do. And things are going to be as they should be.Right now, I’m happy. I’m working. Genuinely.
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