My son does not hesitate to frighten me. When he's in the other room and he coughs, I go running, because he has a tendency to find things and put them in his mouth that I was sure he would not be able to get into. And he LOVES to eat things that just are not palatable. Like shoes. We now cal him "Bam Bam" (Flintstones), because he's so destructive. He has completely de-baby-proofed this house. What was the point? It took me two weeks to put on those door latches, and now he just snaps them open. And if he eats another one of my earplugs, I don't know what I'm gonna do... Needless to say, this picture shows him doing my favorite thing. :-)
School is going alright, though my perfect grade was ruined by an unknown change in the syllabus. I'm hoping that my grade will be restored by the weekend. I had expected that any changes in the syllabus would have been followed by an email or post in the classroom, but I was wrong. So my place at the head of the class was taken by another. Grrr...still, I think the teacher might be willing to work with me. Steve keeps laughing and calling me a nerd. It'll be him next, I think he's going to start school in March.
Valentine's Day came and went, Steve upgraded my ring. Prior to Steve, the only precious gem I had on my finger was a birthstone that I bought once. It's kind of nice to wear something other than CZ, even if it's not a big one. Not that I'd want a big ring. I tend to leave them in the shower, and I don't want to end up losing the equivalent of a house payment. I'd lose my mind.
My boss is a pretty nice guy. If I'm not careful, I'm going to get even fatter than I am now because I work for the owner of a restaurant! I'm his personal assistant. Not a bad job at all. When I work holidays, he treats me to free lunch, and man is the food good. When Steve and I finally go to the JotP, we may go there to eat. They have a lovely upstairs dining room, and I'm sure he'd let me reserve it and decorate for the occasion. Nothing too large, I cannot see the logic in feeding and entertaining people who cannot even keep in contact with me (i.e. relatives). Yeah, onto that.
A wise man once said that there are three different types of storms in life: storms of direction, storms of correction, and storms of perfection. I spent the past year trying to find out what type of storm we were in, but I've come to realize that we were in our own little Perfect Storm, a combination of all three. A storm that came through and wiped our lives bare of all the things we took for granted. A storm that revealed to me who my true allies are in life. A storm that pushed us through a dark valley into a better place where we have more knowledge; about each other, about our faith, and about our desires for our future as a family. Nevertheless, storms suck. You end up wet, cold, or in the worse case scenario, homeless. We came too close.
The wise man is my pastor. Amusingly enough, there are some who would say that he's not my pastor because I'm not in church every Sunday. Well, it's 20 miles away, and if we don't have the gas or it snows, I'm staying in VA. That's what he has online video feeds to his services for. Still, it's funny how many people in the world can come to a conclusion as to the content of your character based on where you are on any given day. Nobody asks "why" anymore, we live in a fast-paced world with all the answers, and apparently there are folks out there with "answers" about me. Go figure. People have labeled me as lazy for not working, others have labeled me lost because I'm not attending the church THEY go to. Others have labeled me crazy because I was honest about my struggle with mental illness.
And still others have just written me off altogether, because I'm not able to go party with them. And there are those "Christians" who won't touch me with a ten-foot pole because Steve and I aren't married. Ah, if they knew the truth of this distasteful situation (WHY we're not married), they'd be even more shocked. Still, I have the right to ask my future husband get his house in order before I take his name. And I feel it to be wrong to bring unnecessary confusion and pain to my son by separating from his father. We are the only people he feels completely comfortable with. He may not be able to talk, but I know it would bother him if his father were not there. I went on vacation without Steve once, and had to go home early, because Little Man is used to sleeping between us. He kept reaching out for his father in the night. Imagine a more permanent situation. He will walk through the house looking for us and calling for us if we're not there. I'm not going to cause him pain for the sake of anyone's scruples. I anxiously await the day when I can legally call myself Steve's wife. Believe me, I don't like this situation any more than anyone else. Hopefully by spring it'll be rectified.
It makes me wonder about my own judgment though, how in blazes I surrounded myself with such people. Well they aren't here anymore and the crickets are chirping a little too loudly for me, but it is what it is. I'm trying not to be bitter and go back to my antisocial ways. I've spent most of my life without friends. I guess my early 20s were a time when I learned to be more sociable. Turning inward would go completely against any sort of preparation for ministry. Instead, I'm choosing to use this time of solitude as a lesson. I fight the loneliness every day. I have to remind myself that most people are alone inside their own heads. I reach out to those who I know are like me, and ironically most of these folks are online pen pals, people I've never met, but people who seem to take more of an interest in my life than people right down the street. I've stopped sending emails to a "friend" who lives less than a mile away. I get the point. I just wish it hadn't come to that. If my company was so distasteful, wouldn't the right thing to do have been to tell me?
Ever since I was a little kid, and I learned that lying to inflate myself only made me look rediculous, I've been adamant about telling the truth. I'm far too serious for most, including poor Steve. I believe in the value of one's words, so I don't joke. That often creates a disconnect between me and my significant other, because he likes to tease. But I feel that if my word is to have any worth, I can't be light with it. So if it were me, and I felt that someone's company wasn't in my best interest, I'd tell them so. Gently, but honestly. I wish that had been done to me. This isolation hurts, and it's not easy for me to admit that.
My therapist has challenged me to get out and be sociable again. I'm not quite ready yet. I've come to the conclusion that for now, it's best to be quiet and stay at home. As I rebuild my life, perhaps I'll come in contact with people I share interests with (LOL, that'll be the day...another 28-year-old with a passion for Tudor England). It's going to take a few years for me and Steve to get to where we want to be in our lives. The light is growing brighter at the end of the tunnel.
I just have to keep walking.