Hope blooms

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Ok.  All hope isn’t lost.

Elskan mín & I have reconnected. Things are moving forward.  Maybe spring will thaw us out of winters gloom soon, but my hearts been warmed and I feel I can carry on again.

Of course things aren’t perfect. I have things to work on. He does as well.  We both have to continue to learn to communicate with each other in the most healthy way.  But I’m glad I didn’t just blow up.  Or completely shut down.  I wasn’t feeling happy but I was able to wait, albeit impatiently.  Maybe I’m learning.

Relationships are as challenging as they are rewarding. As a natural hermit I have to really feel a good connection with someone to even want to bother. He’s worth that bother. And I’m willing  to take the bullshit that invariably comes with the blessings. Nothing is perfect. I’m sure that I’m a total pain in the ass sometimes. I was more than half convinced that he’d decided to say fuck off.  But when we saw each other, hugged each other, I could feel our mutual relief. Mutual gratitude. It’s the best feeling to be taken into the arms of someone who was recently furious with you. Being loved in the face of your imperfections is so powerful.

And a little bit of make up sex never hurts either!

space

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Space. Elskan min needs space. Great.

We had a very stupid fight, and now I’ve been given “space”.

A vast void of space.

I’m not lacking in space. I’ve got way too much space, in fact. Space I’d love to build a life and a love with.

But I’ve fucked it all up. Again.

Apparently I’m aloof to his problems. And I “nitpick”, which I know I can do, I try very hard to not do so, and still I have destroyed this relationship despite my efforts.

I’m not aloof to his problems, though. And I felt like I did many kind and thoughtful things to try to help him feel better when he was stressed. Again, clearly a massive failure on my part.

And I just feel so stupid. Stupid for thinking I was capable. Lovable.

Maybe I need to accept that I’m clearly shit at relationships. At 46 and single yet again it would appear that is true.

I don’t think I can handle dating again.

I needed to write and now I just don’t know what to say. What do I have to say about anything? I feel mute. Numb.

 

I’d love to find that some space helps, and maybe it will. Time will tell. Great, I love waiting around. I’ve certainly got lots of practice.

But right now any hope I had feels dead. And embarrassing.

Spinsterhag fails again.