Here I am, Sunday evening, needing sleep and unable to accomplish it. The only thing I've uttered in the last hour is "I'm overwhelmed". It softly exhaled out of my mouth without me knowing it was coming. And that subconscious escape was spot on. I am moving in with my grandmother within the week, need to buy a new car, have a budding relationship (that I am currently freaking out about,) need to figure out my school stuff, have to find a home for my cat...so on and so forth.
I feel as if my life has been flipped upside down, well, I know it has, so it's an appropriate feeling. I still have to pack up the majority of my place and I don't know when I will be able to move stuff to my grandmothers, because that responsibility was handed off to my aunt who's in town, and with that transference I was taken out of the loop. Which isn't a good thing for a micromanaging control freak like me. I'm trying to completely downsize, this means getting rid of things that I have acquired over the years that I found to be a great resource, aesthetically pleasing, or just part of my collection of shit that I like to call "mine". This hasn't been easy for me, and with all the other shit loaded on top of it I have more or less shut down.
This shutting down means I want to sabotage all the good things in my life, and those things are work and the wonderful man. I want to just tell my job to shove it until I have all this other stuff figured out, and I want to just distance myself (even more) from the wonderful man. As is, I have been so busy I rarely see him, and when I do, I feel so preoccupied I'm sure he feels like he's dating a reanimated corpse, sans the zombie thrill. But the thing is, I also want to cling to him. I want him around me to support me, to make me feel like I have a place in my crazy world, but I can't ask him for that...well, I did actually. I asked if he wanted to help me pack, and I was met with disgust. I think his words were "If I were moving I wouldn't expect you to pack up my shit" Not gonna lie, that one stung, and he has every right to say it, it's my shit, it's all my shit. It was my choice to move in with a stranger I call "Gramma", it was my choice to accumulate so many useless things, it was my choice to procrastinate my responsibilities and act on the frivolities, it's my shit...but now, in essence he too is part of my "shit". Or at least I want him to be...at this point I don't know if he is feeling the same way...and I just want to give it up instead of seeing if I'm wrong.
This is what I do, I would much rather cut and run than allow anyone to hurt me. If I hurt me that is something I can deal with, if I allow someone else to hurt me that equates to weakness for me. I don't like to be vulnerable, and I don't like to allow others the knowledge that I am anything but impervious. UPDATE! So, he just sent me an email, wants to make me dinner, AND introduce me to a friend of his...this would be a first. See...freaking out for no reason. Phew!
And instead of dwelling on all that other shit, I'm going to get off of here, bask in the glow of his wonderful thoughtfulness, and request my body rest the way it needs to.
Night
HMR
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