Tag Archives: love

Why do people separate instead of working through their issues?

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Maybe I am just jaded, but I wonder why people who claim to love each other but are having problems in their relationship decide to separate. They say, “Maybe we can resolve this in X months.” I’m wondering, why not now? Why perform what is the equivalent of breaking up but staying friends with benefits, rather than sitting down and facing your problems?

I once was in a relationship where things were not working out. He lived over an hour away, did not have a job or any motivation (he couldn’t even hold a job for more than two months), was beginning to get into hardcore drugs as opposed to just smoking pot, and I was having second thoughts. I cannot count how many times we took a break. Looking back, I can clearly see that things were never going to work out, and that instead of wasting time taking breaks, I should have just broken up with him and moved on. I had tried discussing our problems with him, but it did no good. These problems were unfixable, and I see now that I did not love him in the right way; the way I felt toward him was more like the way a sixteen-year-old party animal loves someone else’s child that is thrust upon them permanently. (This analogy might suck. Bear with me, or I will sic the spambots on you.) I spent more time taking care of him than actually being in a relationship.

I am now in a true love kind of relationship, the kind where I know down to the marrow in my bones and the little teeny atoms in my heart that we are meant to be. This is the kind of relationship where, five years or so from now, we will be married. Eventually we will have kids. We will constantly be working together and sharing a life with each other. It may sound naive and absurdly romantic in true Virgo fashion, but it’s true.

That being said, I cannot imagine taking a separation. To me, when you love someone deeply but have problems that do not involve cheating, physical/sexual abuse, drug/alcohol abuse, or a few other Get Out Of This Relationship Now issues, you need to face them now — not six, eight, nineteen months from now. If you truly love each other, it is worth working through those issues and facing the demons that come with them.

For example, it drives me absofuckinglutely insane when I ask Mike if he wants to watch a movie and he immediately says no, or when we actually do go to watch a movie and I get no vote in which movie we should watch. There are many fights over this. I say things like, “You never want to do what I want to do,” and he says things like, “That’s not true,” even though we go through this at least once a month. I’ve come to accept that this is one of our quirks, trivial things that we will probably argue about until the day we die. (Or until he either kills me for nagging or I kill him for being a movie vote hog.)

I also tend to be a bit of a brat when I want to do something and he doesn’t. I drive him apeshit. I think he sometimes wonders what he got himself into. If I want to hang out and he doesn’t because he is tired, it is too late, or he is sick, I say things like, “Why don’t you want to hang out with me?” He says things like, “I never said I didn’t want to hang out with you,” in a completely tired, “Why do we keep having this discussion?” tone (similar to the tone I use when I say, “You never want to do anything I want to do!”).

We may go around and around and around this, but we face it. I don’t say, “Listen, Mike, we need a break. Maybe two months from now we can resolve this.” No, it needs to be resolved now! Or else, resentment builds up and the relationship becomes more and more strained.

I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad. I just feel like I’m seeing a lot of people giving up rather than fighting. Don’t get me wrong, some people out there are facing their problems. It might take a lot more work than you ever thought would be necessary, but it’s worth it, I promise you. There have been a couple of times where I almost didn’t continue to fight for what Mike and I have. Looking back, the problems at hand were so small compared to the bonds between us. Had I let those little things break those bonds, I would be cheapening what we’ve worked so hard for throughout our time together.

So, if you are in a relationship and are having second thoughts, please think about it before doing something drastic. Please don’t give up fighting (unless, again, it’s a Get the Fuck Out Of This Relationship Now kind of problem). Don’t take a break. Don’t separate. Sit down and talk.

PS: The alternative title for this post was Little insecurities zap. To continue with the L-I-Z theme for this week, I let the permalink keep the original title.

Other L-I-Z posts:

Tune in next time for more acronym fun!

The first step

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I’ve always had a hard time admitting when something is too hard or when I need help. I’m stubborn and fiercely independent. I also tend to get hit with big ideas and goals, and then I jump into them without thinking them through.

During the last couple of months, I’ve constantly felt as if I could barely keep my head above the water. It wasn’t just school. It was also work, my health problems, my relationship with Mike, and a deep inner yearning to toss everything away and get back to writing. Every aspect of my life suffered, and I with it. I kept trying to ignore the problem, kept trying to look at the bright side. “I can do this,” I’d tell myself, and with renewed strength I’d plow on through. But several days later I would be back in the same position, tired from all of the swimming and barely avoiding the waves of my To Do list from pulling me completely under.

Tuesday night I did not sleep. My legs were wrecked with a pain so intense that I could not do anything other than toss and turn. I wanted to scream, but the people in my house slept soundly around me. I lay there for hours, trapped in a prison that is supposed to be my body, until I finally threw the covers back and got up. I did a lot of bitching on Facebook, which I sort of regret (but only because I don’t like showing any kind of weakness).

I popped in the last DVD of Dollhouse Season 1 and watched “Epitaph One” and the original unaired pilot. I watched a whole bunch of special features. And still the pain wore on. I could barely concentrate, and although I felt so tired, I could not fall asleep. Pain like that is maddening, and I didn’t think I could stand another minute of it.

I logged into Facebook again, wandering around aimlessly, when Mike messaged me. He couldn’t sleep either. We had each been awake for hours, fighting our demons alone, but a simple website had allowed us to come together. We talked on the phone for a long time, sharing our thoughts and soothing each other. I asked him the question that I have been longing to ask but too proud to put into words: “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know. I wish I had an answer,” he said, and I could hear in his voice the frustration and pain he felt for me.

We talked some more, and suddenly the conversation turned to school. Suddenly, I could no longer hide the sensation of drowning that I had been feeling for the last couple of months. “I don’t even know where I’m going to be in five years,” I said, possibly unnecessarily morbidly. I confessed how stressed out I’m feeling, and how I just can’t seem to stay ahead or even on track of everything.

“Well,” he said. “I’m not saying this is what you should do, but maybe you should think about dropping out. Take the time to concentrate on finding out what’s wrong. You can always go back.”

There. He’d said the words that I’d been too stubborn to even think about, but had known deep in my heart for several weeks.

“But, I don’t know if it will affect my GPA,” I said, still stubbornly clinging.

“Screw the GPA,” he said. “It’s just a GPA.”

(Twenty-four hours later, my mom and I would have the same conversation, and she would say the exact thing he had: “It’s just a GPA.”)

“Just think about it,” he said. “School will always be there.”

For the next several hours, while I lay in bed not sleeping, and then when I barely slept tossing and turning, I thought about it. I admitted to myself that the stress of all the things I had stubbornly taken on might be making things worse. I admitted that I’m doing horribly in school and that at this point it is probably too late. I admitted that I needed to really concentrate on me, and that only then would I be able to do well in school.

After talking to my mom and then thinking about it a little more, I decided to do what my heart has wanted to do for several weeks now. I began the withdrawal process yesterday, and already I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted from me.

I have promised myself that I am not going to do this to myself again. I’m not going to jump into an idea that sounds awesome without thinking it through first. I’m going to learn to concentrate on one or two things at a time, without overloading myself. I’m going to take care of myself and find a way to find out what it wrong with me. I’m going to stop taking on so much that I end up burning myself out.

And, more importantly, I’m going to do what I love: I’m going to spend the entire month of November writing a novel without worrying about exams and portfolios and lesson plans and math.

I have taken the first step: I’ve admitted that, while I do really love kids, I’ve had doubts about becoming a teacher and going through this program. While I like school, it’s been incredibly stressful for me and I just honestly can’t handle it right now.

And that is okay. Just hearing it from Mike and Mom, that it’s okay, makes it easier for me to believe.

It’s okay, and I’m going to be okay.

First comes salad, then comes marriage

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I’ve come to realize that maybe the reason none of my pants fit lies with the large volume of chicken nuggets and fries I eat. I still weigh roughly the same, so it’s gotta be all of the convection oven food that’s made my belly and hips as round as a two- or three-month pregnant woman. (You laugh, but I’m not kidding.)

So this afternoon when I got home from work and the chicken nug-nug cravings hit, I decided I’d do something different: have a salad instead of fries. (There won’t be any pictures, because I thought of this after I started eating.)

Even better, my grandparents brought home a bunch of fresh veggies and basil from their garden at the campground they stay at every summer, so I took advantage of those. Instead of eight chicken nuggets and a handful of fries, I made six chicken nuggets and a smallhuge salad. (I realize that the huge salad will probably equal the fries. But I digress.)

In the past, I’ve used some not-so-healthy “dieting” techniques. At fifteen, sixteen, I felt bad about myself on the inside and those feelings quickly spread to how I felt about my body. I became dangerously thin (I went from about 125 lbs to 100 lbs in a matter of about four to six weeks) and, because I’m hypoglycemic, got sick most of the time from not eating. I don’t like to think about what I might have done to my body during this time, or what I could have done if I were to continue on this path. Luckily, a friend of mine told on me and my mom immediately began harassing me to eat. At my lowest weight, my collarbones stuck out so far “they were gross,” as my friend says. I was never officially diagnosed with an eating disorder, but those negative images of my body have never completely left me. I relapse sometimes, and sometimes I’m perfectly content with how I look.

Every time my jeans get a little tight, I freak out. It’s hard to keep from going back to my old ways.

It’s also hard to ignore that my favorite jeans have to be greased onto me, and even then I can’t breathe if I wear them.

Today I found a happy medium, and I hope that I can stick with it and continue to be comfortable with it. I want to continue to love myself and be good to myself, so that I can have the future I want with the person I want to be with.

Mike and I, Winter 2008

Mike and I, Winter 2008

A lot of people don’t understand my relationship with Mike, but here’s the gist of it: he makes me happy, both with him and with myself. He doesn’t demand anything from me. He helps me see the real me and the potential I have. I don’t think he even knows this, but by being with him, I’ve learned to love myself even more than I did before. I’ve become a lot more comfortable with myself since I met him. Even when we fight and no matter how many times we’ve broken up, we always come out stronger.

I don’t write about the mushy, gushy stuff here often because I think it’s lame. Everyone with a blog writes about how awesome their relationship is and blahblahblah. (The truth is, it’s not awesome. Sometimes it’s fucking ugly, and anyone who pretends any differently on their blog needs to seriously look themselves in the mirror.) I want people to know that there’s more to me than the guy I date. I’ve read blogs where most of it says “Blahblahblah and I did this today, and Blahblahblah and I are so in love and Blahblahblah is so awesome.”

But I also want people to know that there’s a reason I am with Mike. It’s not because he’s a great kisser or because he has a relatively good taste in movies (though I seriously cannot understand why he thinks the new Halloween remake-sequel is worth seeing). Those things are good qualities and get him an A+, but they’re not enough. Frankly, most people just wouldn’t get it, because I just don’t have the right words to explain exactly how he makes me feel. “Alive” is a good one, and so is “wonderful.”

Anyway. I have no idea how a post about salad got to this point. ADHD, anyone?

I am a woman of many distractions

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I enjoy taking risks. I love new things. Yeah, I’m usually a little anxious about it and sometimes a little nervous, but I love the thrill and excitement, the feeling of complete and total unknown that makes my belly do little flip flops.

I’ve been trying to be more independent, to do things for myself that my parents used to take care of. I’ve been working on big projects and spending more time than is probably healthy on the computer putting those dreams to reality.

I’ve been sitting on an idea for a while now, and I’m almost ready to get started. It’s a big risk. Just starting it is going to cost me a lot more money than I’d like to spend right now, especially with a particular Sunfire that needs a new blower motor and has something wrong with the shifter. It’s going to take a while for me to launch it. It’s going to take a lot of work, and it’s going to add a lot to my current daily workload. Still, it’s something that I’m passionate about and something that I think could be beneficial to others. I live for this sort of thing. I love working on more than one thing at once. It’s how I thrive.

I’m excited and anxious to get started, but also a little nervous. It’s the feeling that makes my life so vibrant and full of wonder.

So I ask you, what moves you? What makes you truly happy?

Reunion

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The last time I missed Mike this much was when we were broken up. Well okay, I missed him a lot more then, but you get the picture. Luckily I’ve been super busy, or I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. See, I’m used to being in constant touch with him. We usually spend hours on the phone or hanging out. Right before he started working third shift, we were getting on each other’s nerves a lot. It was probably all of the stress we were dealing with, but now I miss all of the things that were annoying me.

In the past three weeks, aside from tearing my hair out from all of my other problems, I’ve been whining that I miss him. I think my friends and family were getting really tired of hearing about it. So when he called me this afternoon and told me to come over, I pretty much ran from the post office and drove to his house singing really loudly and possibly getting strange looks from the people in other cars.

As soon as I got to his house, I threw the car into Park and practically ran inside. He was already holding the door open for me. Needless to say, we pretty much clung to each other the entire time I was there. It was nice, and intensely romantic — in a feverish, I-haven’t-seen-you-in-like-a-month sort of way. (Midnight coffee runs and food drop-offs don’t count.)

Amazingly enough, he’s off tomorrow night and we’re going to spend the night together. I have class until 8:30, so we’re either going to go to his dad’s and hang out or go to Joey’s and watch the game. I do have to work Friday morning, but I doubt that’ll stop us from staying together late.

The best part about today was that I had daydreamed all morning at work about being with him. I guess, if you wish for something hard enough, sometimes you actually get it.