The constant stabbing and subsequent radiating pain in my lower back is relentless. Everywhere I go, there it is. I can find no relief. The past few days have been especially agonizing. Generally, I can find solace in certain positions, but lately I haven’t been so lucky. The pain affects my sleep; my sleep affects my energy; my energy affects my ability to deal.
First of all, I hide my feelings well. Yes, I said all those things to him, but I doubt he knew how disappointed I was. Or hell, maybe he did, which is why he came over anyway.
Secondly, I had taken a pain pill by the time he came over — half of one — and I felt detached and distant. I wonder if he felt it, too.
Thirdly, I omitted the fact that we can’t have sex for at least two weeks. He’s waiting on some test results for a medical condition and I know he’s freaked out. Sex wasn’t even an option last night.
Lastly, he was very kind when he did come over. His knock startled me awake and when I shuffled to the front door I’m sure I looked as bad as I felt. He was surprised I’d fallen asleep on my couch and immediately took control. “You’re going to bed. Come on.” He grabbed my laptop and led me to my room.
“Let’s watch Game of Thrones.”
“Ok,” I agreed. I could barely do more I was so tired and in a lofty cloud of opiates.
And so we lay together, with the laptop between us and he would occasionally reach over and massage my breast. A few times he closed his eyes with his hand filled with my flesh and dozed. He was exhausted, too. And when it was all done he hovered over my mouth and asked, “Do you know what time it is?”
I held my breath hoping it’d be a kiss, but instead I could feel his smile as he said, “Time for me to go home.”
I couldn’t move to let him out. “Are you ok with the door being unlocked?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s fine. Thanks. Have a good night.”
“You, too!” And he quietly shut the front door.
Admitting I’m an asshole feels great, by the way. Like eating shit-pie. But really, this is part of my journey: I need to open myself up to greater communication and not be a shady, resentful woman. I love being with him and remembering that disappointment will color my reactions will help me to remain a loving, kind person in the face of a let down. Besides, even feeling “let down” is a slippery slope and it’s one I’d like to avoid altogether.
Today is a new day and I get to come at this all over again. For that I’m grateful. However, I’m still embarrassed about last night. If I start getting shitty over every perceived slight then I am doomed and it’s like I’m 25 all over again. I’m not going to go there. I refuse. I know he cares about me and this is a complicated situation. This is hard. I have to just relax.
I imagine what he’d think if he ever discovered this blog and it’s posts like last night’s (and even this one) that make me cringe with shame. I’m more than this. I promise.