I've realized lately that while some things in my life are not yet in a state of nirvana, I pretty much have a lot of sweet reasons to be happy and that I should learn to just appreciate what I do have as opposed to what I don't.
For instance, I have a boyfriend who bemuses me in his perfection. Sometimes I look at him and I think, "This is what I've waited for my whole life." And I'm genuinely amazed. Partly to think that I could ever be that sappy and partly because no one is ever the right one, are they? Yet somehow he is.
You see I used to be married. My husband was difficult. He wasn't a bad guy really, but he was a troubled one. He had more issues than the National Geographic. And I wasn't entirely aware of these issues before I married him, which made things extremely difficult later. I loved him but I couldn't help him in any way. He was jealous and devious. He suffered from an extreme form of depression and anxiety. He had a bad temper and was incredibly needy, due to abandonment issues stemming from his childhood and was not above resorting to emotional blackmail and extreme verbal abuse to get what he wanted. He sat around at home all day, doing nothing and getting more depressed while I was at work. And I was worried all the time. Every minute of every day. And worry makes you snappy and uptight. And that made us fight.
And I got sick of the panic. The dread of going home and not knowing what mood I'd find waiting for me. The moment he'd next pick a fight over nothing. The never being able to make him happy or solve his problems. Wondering where the rent was coming from with one wage. Knowing I'd have to get home from work and provide dinner and company and tread on eggshells all the time, while making him feel like the most important person in the world, even though I was exhausted and drained.
And it wore me down. Year after year I got more tired, more depressed, less like myself. Until I didn't recognize me anymore. As though I was hiding away deep inside myself and this facade had replaced me on the outside. I was introverted and quiet. And I had to get out because, although my heart was breaking because he was so troubled, so mentally sick and I just wanted him to feel better and function as a normal human being again, I was fading away into a haze of depression and anxiety myself and I had to do something or go down with the ship. The last two years we were married I was drowning and I'd forgotten how to swim.
So I saved myself. I felt guilty over it. I felt devastated. I didn't respond to his harassment or attempts to humiliate or belittle me. His threats or his attacks. I got out and I stayed out. And slowly, over the last few years, the real me tentatively stepped out from her hiding place and found a path back.
El Cerebro gets me. I never really expected anyone to understand me fully. No one ever has. But he truly gets me. We are both mellow, laid back people who rarely get angry or frustrated. We never fight. We laugh at the same inappropriate things. Where I used to feel aggravated and snappy, I now feel relaxed and happy. I finally understand when people say, "he's my soul mate" or other things I previously thought corny. We're like two halves of one entity.
Even I barfed reading that. I do apologize.
But I never dread coming home. I never lie awake at night worrying about El Cerebro or wondering what horrific mood tomorrow will bring, I just go with the flow. I look forward to things again and although it sounds like such a small thing, it makes all the difference in the world.