Beastmomma

These past few days I have stayed late at the office to help put together a grant that just went out about an hour ago.  I got permission to leave early, but instead I am taking a mental break and will jump back into organizing my office and catching up on other things. As I look around my office, there seems to be trails of paper everyone. They are actually piles that just got off centered, but I keep hoping that they will lead to somewhere wonderful.  It is funny to make a wish on skewed paper piles.

This morning I had another good session with the therapist. We talked more about the conversation with *Sunday* and about the blog and the reactions.  I was reminded that the blog and my posts are essentially snapshots of experience. I also use this place as a venue for working through my insecurities and processing things with which I struggle.  In the post about my discussion with *Sunday*, I do not think that I conveyed that there were good things about the conversation and good things that he said and was willing to do which made me not want to give up on him or us just yet.  Plus, I do not think that my misuse of language helped... I used the word "Flushed" instead of "Fleshed" which adds to a more negative stance. 

Thank you for caring about me and making sure that I am taking good care of myself. It helps me make sure that I am clear about my actions and choices.  << I believe that was the point.

*Sunday* and I had our talk tonight. I imagine that we will revisit this topic again. For now, I must say that it is exhausting to state your truth and try to be guard for the best part of yourself even if it is covered in layers of fat or whatever physical attribute or characteristic you choose to claim as a flaw.  I did speak of my desire to have things move forward.  I declared my love for him again.  He said that he was not ready to commit to a life together and that he was not in love with me.  I thought that the conversation was over. The tears were coming down my face, but I felt that I was choosing the only person I can count on-- me.

He did say that he could try to be a more committed guy and work on having a  more flushed out relationship.  I asked for some concrete examples of how this would happen and gave some suggestions for things. They included him calling more often, initiating plans, and telling me more frequently what I mean to him.  When I searched deep in my heart, even in the midst of my tears, I thought that this could be enough.  This commitment to exploring whether or not we are a good fit for each other. 

I still do not know if I am going to tell my mother.  *Sunday* expressed concern about bringing her into the fold.  I do not have the energy to figure out everything all in one night. I still worry about having him help me out after my surgery because what if I continue to fall deeper and deeper in love with him and he still does not love me?  Plus if I have not managed to make him fall in love with me when I am at my best wearing lovely clothes and being sexy, HOW AM I GOING TO DO THAT WHILE ON VICADIN WITH MY MOTHER AROUND ALL THE TIME?

I do have some concerns and doubts. 

For now, I also know that I am in love with a man who is committed to being my boyfriend.

Maybe that is not such a bad place.

My mother just e-mailed me her itinerary for coming to help me out after my surgery. She arrives on Feb. 12th and leaves on March 11th.  That is going to be one intense month.  I have wishes and desires for us to grow closer during this time and deepen our connection.  I realized that this is going to be the first time that I see her every day for a month since I graduated from Tulane in the summer of 2002.  The dynamics are going to be so strange and I have no idea how things will unfold. 

As part of preparing for her visit, I have come to realize that I have secrets from her. Some of the big ones are: *Sunday*, this blog, and the fact that I am in therapy.  I am feeling very restless and anxious in general.  I worry that something will go wrong with surgery, but I am continuing to be hopeful that things will go well.  I worry that things will *Sunday* will end, but I know I will survive either way and it just so happens that I will be on pain killers very soon.  I am worried that if things continue with *Sunday* and I tell my mother that a painful exchange will take place.  Fortunately, pain killers can work for that as well.   I worry that she will somehow discover this blog and not understand my need to have this venue.  I worry that I will not be able to tell her that I am in therapy because I feel pretty fucked up and my relationship with her is part of that.   Gosh that seems harsh. 

Sometimes with my parents and other people with whom I am close, I have a super hero reality and the real reality. The super hero reality is the one that I wish for where my mother is super cool and hip and always manages to be my hero.  The real reality is the one where my mother is sometimes stubborn and socially awkward and old fashioned.  I do the same thing with my dad and my brother.  Maybe in our month together the super hero and the real reality can merge.  Maybe I will view this secrets as part of my privacy and not as potential land mines.