What Love Really Is

Gosh, it’s been a while since I was here. So much has happened and I’ve grown considerably as a human being. As a woman.

I spend just about every day at my boyfriend’s place now. I’m not being that crazy, obsessed girlfriend, I swear. But we’ve both been talking a lot and, the more we talk, the more I realize that I have never been more right about someone than I have with him.

If you recall, I once mentioned that there are no perfect people in the world. There are no perfect relationships and everything is about how much you’re willing to compromise. I also mentioned that, if that was the case, this man is the closest to perfect for me as I can get.

I had no idea at the time just how right I was. We’ve been talking about our future, about five to ten years in the future. He wants me to be a part of his life that far in the future and, you know what? I want to be in his life that long, too. It’s such a strange realization, wanting not only a future, but wanting one to share with another person, potentially for the rest of my life. And, in the past, that’s been terrifying.

But I want this. I have gotten to the point where he is the only one who can tell me we can’t be together anymore. I’m not saying we don’t fight and I don’t want to call it quits sometimes, but he has proven to me time and again that he will stand by me no matter what, no matter the things that I have done or been through that I’m ashamed of and can’t tell anyone.

It’s weird for me, though. I’m so used to being independent, to holding myself up alone (despite all the wonderful friends I have, I’ve always chosen to be self-reliant) and now there’s someone that, when things get unbearable, there he is. I don’t want to make anyone my savior, but if there is one person to save me from myself, it’s him.

The crazy thing is that I’m starting to like that idea.

Happy Homemaker vs. Independent Woman

It’s been a while since I had an update of a semi-professional sort. I’ve been using this blog as a means to vent (which was the whole reason I actually got a blog), but I’ve been thinking a lot about a new story idea.

It’s a lot less adventure-y and more of a statement about the expectations of the world and how women cope (with, of course, a bunch of mushy, romance-y stuff). There’s a massive stigma among women, from what I’ve seen personally, regarding being a mother and homemaker. More specifically, women are being raised now to believe that they should work hard to be independent workers and the professional equal of men. Which, of course, women who wish to develop a steady career should strive for.

But there are women out there who really just want to spend their lives raising children and taking care of their families. And it is extremely difficult to be a woman like that in today’s society.

Other women who want to prove themselves look down on the housewife, painting her as weak or incompetent, when, really, to stand up and say that, yes, she would love to be responsible for a defenseless child, an infant, takes just as much courage as being a woman who decides to join the military and carry a gun, knowing that, should she have to, she must make the split-second decision to fire that weapon.

There is constant doubt in her mind about the path she feels inclined to take. She fears that, upon finding out that all she wants is to have kids and settle down, no man would want her. With a strong sense of balance and equality, she fears that being a housewife would make her dependent and not a true contributor to the household, even if she is the one who keeps the house clean and manages to keep the children from running wild and makes all three meals every day and is always there to lend a helping hand. Even if she is the foundation the household sits upon, she fears it will not be enough because she does not financially contribute.

 

Home

Most people think of a house. An apartment. A flat. A place to live that you share with someone special.

For a long time, I thought home was all the way back in California. My current residence in Norfolk, VA has always been temporary. I’ve always thought, “I’ll live here for a few years then move back to California and go to college. I won’t have a ‘home’ until after that, when I’ve settled down.” Somehow, that’s been the plan in my head for a long time.

Recently, though, I’ve been feeling like this is home. Not the place I stay in, but the man I come home to every day. It’s weird to say this nearly four months into a relationship, but I finally feel needed as much as I feel I need him. It’s a ridiculously wonderful feeling, being needed. Being so necessary to the happiness of another person, it’s so amazingly uplifting. Even if I don’t do things for him the way he does for me, I finally feel like a vital piece of the puzzle instead of that random piece that no one really knows where it goes (some part of some sky somewhere that could really be part of any puzzle out there).

Does anyone else feel that way when it comes to love and things like that? That being needed is just as important as needing the person you’re with? And does that feeling make you feel like you’re home when you’re with them?

Days Like Today

I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. Maybe even sleep for a few weeks. I know I’ve mentioned how much my dreams bother me, but even they’re preferable to the way I’m feeling right now.

I think the hardest part for me is knowing that the way I’m feeling is completely irrational. I take slight scoldings and treat them like the end of the world. And, to me, they are. Because if someone has to scold me, I messed up in a miniscule way that I ought to have been able to correct on my own. Instead, someone else has to notice it and tell me to fix it.

And, if there’s one thing I hate, it’s other people telling me how to do things. I love to learn, but I don’t like it when I think I have it down and mess up. Like this morning when I was on watch. I was yelled at for something so small and that I had no way of knowing, but it still hurt me. It hurt me to the point where all my irrational fears and doubts came back up to the surface, the ones I’d been working so hard to get past.

I know I’m better than that. I know I’m a good person who wouldn’t try to do things wrong on purpose. I know there’s no reason for me to feel like shit every time someone tells me I messed up.

But I do.

And it scares me because, if this is how I react in the military, how am I going to behave in the civilian world? How am I going to handle not having a chain of command to help me with everything? Not that they really help me much, but they’re a convenient source of blame.

But, the point is, when I get out, I’ll have no one to blame but myself. And, really, that scares me, too. Because I play the blame game. I don’t like that, but I do. And, if the only person I can blame is myself, then I’m going to blame myself for a lot. Probably more than I actually deserve (because I’m a masochist like that), but I’d be shouldering a lot. And I’m scared that, when that day comes, I might be alone.

I’m not saying there’s trouble in paradise, far from it. Relationship-wise, the only problem I really have is that he’s shouldering a lot of my stress and burdens right now and, even though I know the day will come where he’ll need me to do the same, I feel guilty. They’re my problems. No one else should have to put up with them (Oh, that’s an old wound, isn’t it?).

I should stop now. I’m rambling because I’m tired and have to stay up even longer than I wanted to. I planned to go to bed after dinner, which I skipped to type this up. It’s ok, though, I’m not all that hungry. I had a very big burger for lunch (because I skipped breakfast).

Ok. Rambling’s done. Posting now.