My mom left for New York a couple of days ago, and in the wake of her departure I was left marinating in the juices of our long, meaty conversations. Something about talking to my mom about her marriage always makes me rethink my relationship with Rob. It’s like I can’t help but make connections – and I wonder if that’s right or fair or even useful. It’s entirely possible that I’m drawing conclusions between things that are completely unrelated.
Mom and Dad are fighting a lot, and for the first time, I’m not physically around to play referee. I’d never moved so far away from my parents that I couldn’t help them put back the pieces. So this? It’s new. And very strange. It’s that strangeness that makes it so difficult to deal with, and yet I persist because there is so much more I must do. Because being stagnant and over-thinking things doesn’t do anyone any good. Because it’s harder to not do anything at all, and I won’t be hampered by that kind of fear.
I’m doing more freelancing than I’ve ever done, and looking for better-paying gigs, and writing a lot. I’m also reading a lot more than usual, thanks to our new Nook and the weather being cooperative (crazy-ass storms aren’t jacking our internet connection).
I’ve also joined an aerobics class and a gym, and putting in long hours doing sit-ups and push-ups. I plan on running a half-marathon in the near future, just to see if I can. If I do? Full marathon shortly after.
Inside, I feel settled. Grounded. Planted. Connected to things, and I haven’t felt this way in a few… days? Weeks? Something. It’s been a while… Maybe it has something to do with doing more freelancing, and thus being forced to know what’s going on in the world. Maybe it has something to do with my mom’s stay, and getting back in touch with feelings that I’d suppressed. Maybe it has something to do with big things happening, with feeling like I’m soaring, with getting used to the lift of wind beneath my wings and starting to feel like this isn’t new – it’s just the way things are, and it’s wonderful.
Rob and I are in a strange new place. It’s still just as rocky and volatile and messy as it’s ever been, but it’s somehow less complicated. I feel like I know it more, like it’s been defined, like the pieces to who we are as a couple are more known to me than ever before. Like I’ve finally accepted the whole story of Us.
And I have to be honest with myself:
I don’t know if it’s enough.
I don’t know if I’m cut out for this couple stuff. And if I am cut out for it, I don’t know if I want to stay in a long-term and monogamous relationship with Rob.
I just know that I have no fear, and for now that’s all I need to know.
There are lots of doctor’s appointments this week: I’m going to see a dermatologist about my mole, and I’m going to see an ENT about my earaches, and we’re taking Riley to see his pediatrician because it’s been a week and his cough hasn’t completely cleared up yet. (Though other than congestion and coughing, he’s doing okay.)
How is it possible? The high of surreal, giddy, enthusiastic happiness has worn off, and everything somehow feels better than before?