Musings of a Wench

Hello, Internet. It's been a while.

And oh how things have changed. 2008 was a hell of a year, and I can say with quiet certainty that I am deeply okay with it being over. It wasn't a bad year, exactly. It was just a turbulent one. I don't even know what to say.


Look. In April, I asked, to know what the root of this [anxiety] was. And I can now tell you what it was, beyond any shadow of a doubt. No matter how often I told therapist #1 (and no matter how many times x10 that I told myself) that the fear was from marrying in to John's family, the truth of the matter is that that wasn't it. The reason I said I didn't want to get married yet for the first six years of our relationship was because the back of my brain, my nervous system, my intuition all knew what I couldn't not process in the front of my brain. It was in fact John I couldn't marry, shouldn't marry. Will not be marrying.

I realized I had to end the relationship 2 days before he ended up in a near fatal car crash in the Middle East. Which was awkward timing. The whole thing was awful, and I could have handled it better. So could he, however. The day about a week later I realized that I was right, that this was over for real, was the moment he screamed long distance calling me stupid, calling me lazy fucking housekeeper. He tried to put it back together, but I had to escape. The deal I've had since the beginning was the day that he became his father was the day I walked. Instantly. And it was Vince's voice yelling at me over the phone. (I thought I meant the day he hit me, but the first sign of true Vinceness was always my walking papers - something I'd made clear very early.)

I miss him - I miss him as my best friend. The day before he came home, about a month later, I knew I had to say the words 'it's over' to his face... (he wouldn't let me over the phone), I was on my way to a work function, when suddenly it hit me. I'd made my peace with the relationship ending, I'd stop wearing the ring months earlier. I realized that I was losing my best friend. It was like being gutted.
I did, too. We were friendly for a while, but John decided after about a month that we were not going to be friends, and that was that. It's a loss, and it makes me sad.

It was so the right thing, though. Haven't had a panic attack in months. Have no regrets about my decision. Am happier than I've been in more years than I can remember.


Also, and this was a little complicated, I've fallen in love with someone, and it's been so easy. All of it. The falling, the him, the everything. We're going down to Lethbridge for Boxing Day for a couple of days. I've been promised long games of canasta and lots of rum. And no drama. His *mother* offered to switch Christmas to the next day just to make it easier on Dave. Like it was no big deal. His family is nice and pleasant and fun. I went down for Thanksgiving - after 24 hours it was like I'd known them forever and it was all so comfortable. I like them. Which is great, because I'm rather head over heels with Dave. My parents like him, all my friend like him. My sister wants him to set her up with one of his enumerable cousins - she wants to marry in to his large farm family. She also says that she can't remember the last time I looked so pretty and happy.

I am happy. Happy and relaxed. I swear to god, it's like everything that was clenched has relaxed. And there was a lot that was clenched.

Dave is so different - and yet so similar in some ways. I actually know Dave through John, from University. They're both structural engineers, they're both exceedingly smart and funny. But Dave comes from a huge (relatively functional and happy) family (42 cousins!). He gets along well with his (funny and nice) family. He's deeply loyal. He moved through the world without doubting himself at every turn, or being worried about random strangers judging him. He knows who he is, and owns it. He's a huge sports fan. The apartment I'm sitting here typing this in is decorated as a shrine to Lanny McDonald and Theron Flury. (Flames players from the 80s.) It's what he's interested in - hockey is what he's passionate about. He's not apologetic about it - it's who he is. But it means that he's just as happy that I have my own things. John hated it when I read books - seriously. Dave? As long as I'm nearby, he's happy. We've whiled away a pleasant evening on the couch, him watching the game(s) and me reading and watching occasionally.

Look. Dave is just so easy to be with. So fun. He likes me for me. When I'm with him, I can breathe easily and just not worry. I can have my own interests and opinions and feelings and THAT'S OKAY. It's nice, you know?

He also thinks I'm beautiful, and when I'm with him, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I am. It's so nice to not have an insult slid in to every compliment. It's so nice to feel like me, on my own, as I am right now, is enough. Is more than just enough. It's nice to feel like I'm allowed to be me, as imperfect as that may be. You know?


Let's see. I've had my half the house bought out. I've purchased a brand new shiny blue Toyota Corolla. I'm living in an apartment two stories above Dave, in a decent building full of nothing but young pot smokers and old people. My job is secure for a good while, I think, even in this crashing economy. Dave and I are talking about a 3 week wander around Europe this spring. One way or another, I'm buying property when my lease is up. I just celebrated my 27th birthday, and maybe I'm not where I thought I would be, but you know what? I was living my life according to what I thought I should do, according to the plan in my head. Fuck the plan. This is my life, and I couldn't be happier. I'm going to finish this rum and diet coke, drag that adorable man away from his computer climb in to bed with this wonderful man.

Internet? I think this may be it for this blog. I'm going to finish copying everything in to a word doc (including all those diaryland years), have it professionally printed and call it a day. I read follow all of your writing every day, please know that. I just think that right now? I am happy and don't have much to say. My life is working out, albeit in new and mysterious ways. I'm happier than I've been in longer than I can tell you. I'm 27 years old and you know what? Despite the fact that a year ago, I wouldn't have believed you if you told me that this is where I would be, I couldn't be happier. This is my life, and I love it. Complicated and messy? Sure. Full of laughter and fun and love? You bet your ass.

I win, internet. I win.

Labels: grown ups, identity, life, marriage, the boy, wedding

posted by Morgan @ 11:13 p.m.