Today is officially our one year anniversary!
After my mother died, (as I'm sure you all know), I was besieged by so much grief, it was hard to even breathe on some days. And then came the calm. The melancholy. The quiet days of just being. Learning to breathe again. Noticing the sun outside and the squirmy little puppy that was mine, and the elegant sleek racing dog that was always there. -These were my new family. This was the new pack, sadly, without my mother.
This was where I was, when love found me. Who in the world would have thought it possible? The state that I was in was pretty much as unattractive as I could imagine myself. -But I guess that's how you know when it's real; love that is.
In this year, there have been so many things to be grateful for. I have completely fallen apart. And I found someone who loves me, even in that state. It all started with friendship and a crush, many years ago. When we reunited, I think we both liked each other almost immediately. By the end of the first day together, we both felt something good. Was it love? -Not yet. Whatever it was, it felt nice.
Early on, I had to have a tooth extracted that was growing up into my sinus cavity. I remember being so surprised when The Cute Boy showed up at my door unannounced, with a basket of flowers and a card (one of the few that he's given me -'cause he's not that into cards). It said "I hope you feel better". It was a day *before* my surgery, and he was already wishing me well. I remember standing there at my front door, perfectly healthy and smiling at him. It was one of the sweetest things that a guy had ever done for me. -a preemptive get well wish. He offered to take me the Doctors and take care of me afterward, but I declined. I had already made plans for another friend to drive me. In the end though, The Cute Boy did help out when I needed my prescription but still couldn't drive because of the sedative. He went and got it. It was funny, because although I had gotten my mother's prescriptions many times, I had never actually had a friend go pick up mine for me. I was worried that they wouldn't fill it for him or that there would be a problem and I would have to go down to do it myself. (Ye of little faith!). He didn't have any problems. That shifting, from being the caretaker, to being the cared for, was a strange one for me. I didn't trust it at first. But there would be many more opportunities for The Cute Boy to prove to me his trustworthiness. His tenderness. And most of all, that I was safe. Isn't that funny? Safe!? Why on earth would I *not* feel safe??? But looking back on it, it all makes sense. I had spent so many years, taking care of my mother, always being the one to protect and shelter her. To love her. To care for her when she was sick. To handle everything and try to hold it together while my whole world fell apart. I can't tell you how hard it is to watch someone that you dearly love deteriorate. To witness their body betray them and rapidly wither and change in sickness. The most painful memories I have are of this, and of being completely helpless to stop it. During this all, I was the guardian. I stood watch over her, protecting her. But who was there to protect me? I hadn't even realized that there was anything missing there, or that I had such a deep need, until I got sick around Christmas this year, and The Cute Boy took me over to his house and set me up on the couch. I could see the beautiful twinkling lights from our Christmas tree. And he gave me full command of the television. It was a little overwhelming to be perfectly honest. The last time I watched TV, we had basic cable, and pretty much just got 12 channels. The rest were all Home Shopping Network or rotating public announcements or broadcasts of city council meetings made at our local community cable station. Not only was his television enormous, but there were over a thousand channels. A thousand channels! I didn't even know how people could watch so much TV. Where did they find the time? And how did they navigate it all? I stuck mainly to the special cable stations, like HBO or Showtime. But even then, there were all of these extra versions. The only channel that he didn't have, that I wanted to watch was MTV Arabia. -I was curious. Anyhoo...Set up on his couch, nestled under a comforter, it felt nice to be there with The Cute Boy and his roommates. They were actually really surprised at how I could seemingly sleep through anything. Their raucous laughter and chiding. What he didn't know, was that this felt good to me. To be sick, to be weak, and to be able to close my eyes and rest, knowing that there was a house full of people who loved me and would never let any harm come to me. It reminded me of home and family. Of being a child, and feeling safe and protected. Of being tenderly loved.
There are so many things to be grateful for, and these are only a few of them.
After my mother died, (as I'm sure you all know), I was besieged by so much grief, it was hard to even breathe on some days. And then came the calm. The melancholy. The quiet days of just being. Learning to breathe again. Noticing the sun outside and the squirmy little puppy that was mine, and the elegant sleek racing dog that was always there. -These were my new family. This was the new pack, sadly, without my mother.
This was where I was, when love found me. Who in the world would have thought it possible? The state that I was in was pretty much as unattractive as I could imagine myself. -But I guess that's how you know when it's real; love that is.
In this year, there have been so many things to be grateful for. I have completely fallen apart. And I found someone who loves me, even in that state. It all started with friendship and a crush, many years ago. When we reunited, I think we both liked each other almost immediately. By the end of the first day together, we both felt something good. Was it love? -Not yet. Whatever it was, it felt nice.
Early on, I had to have a tooth extracted that was growing up into my sinus cavity. I remember being so surprised when The Cute Boy showed up at my door unannounced, with a basket of flowers and a card (one of the few that he's given me -'cause he's not that into cards). It said "I hope you feel better". It was a day *before* my surgery, and he was already wishing me well. I remember standing there at my front door, perfectly healthy and smiling at him. It was one of the sweetest things that a guy had ever done for me. -a preemptive get well wish. He offered to take me the Doctors and take care of me afterward, but I declined. I had already made plans for another friend to drive me. In the end though, The Cute Boy did help out when I needed my prescription but still couldn't drive because of the sedative. He went and got it. It was funny, because although I had gotten my mother's prescriptions many times, I had never actually had a friend go pick up mine for me. I was worried that they wouldn't fill it for him or that there would be a problem and I would have to go down to do it myself. (Ye of little faith!). He didn't have any problems. That shifting, from being the caretaker, to being the cared for, was a strange one for me. I didn't trust it at first. But there would be many more opportunities for The Cute Boy to prove to me his trustworthiness. His tenderness. And most of all, that I was safe. Isn't that funny? Safe!? Why on earth would I *not* feel safe??? But looking back on it, it all makes sense. I had spent so many years, taking care of my mother, always being the one to protect and shelter her. To love her. To care for her when she was sick. To handle everything and try to hold it together while my whole world fell apart. I can't tell you how hard it is to watch someone that you dearly love deteriorate. To witness their body betray them and rapidly wither and change in sickness. The most painful memories I have are of this, and of being completely helpless to stop it. During this all, I was the guardian. I stood watch over her, protecting her. But who was there to protect me? I hadn't even realized that there was anything missing there, or that I had such a deep need, until I got sick around Christmas this year, and The Cute Boy took me over to his house and set me up on the couch. I could see the beautiful twinkling lights from our Christmas tree. And he gave me full command of the television. It was a little overwhelming to be perfectly honest. The last time I watched TV, we had basic cable, and pretty much just got 12 channels. The rest were all Home Shopping Network or rotating public announcements or broadcasts of city council meetings made at our local community cable station. Not only was his television enormous, but there were over a thousand channels. A thousand channels! I didn't even know how people could watch so much TV. Where did they find the time? And how did they navigate it all? I stuck mainly to the special cable stations, like HBO or Showtime. But even then, there were all of these extra versions. The only channel that he didn't have, that I wanted to watch was MTV Arabia. -I was curious. Anyhoo...Set up on his couch, nestled under a comforter, it felt nice to be there with The Cute Boy and his roommates. They were actually really surprised at how I could seemingly sleep through anything. Their raucous laughter and chiding. What he didn't know, was that this felt good to me. To be sick, to be weak, and to be able to close my eyes and rest, knowing that there was a house full of people who loved me and would never let any harm come to me. It reminded me of home and family. Of being a child, and feeling safe and protected. Of being tenderly loved.
There are so many things to be grateful for, and these are only a few of them.
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