Cold feet

I typed this yesterday evening...

Well I dunno what it is. Nerves. Anticipation. It’s something. Everything is getting to me and it’s making me frustrated. I’m scared that I’m going to feel claustrophobic. Scared that C will. Scared that his place won’t feel like my place. Scared that I won’t feel at home, or that I won’t have some ‘space’ of my own. But, on the other hand, part of me doesn’t even care about those things. I just want to be settled. To feel secure. I’m used to it all falling apart right about now.

I thought once the decision was made that things would be easier. Guess it’s like a house that needs cleaning – as you start cleaning, it gets messier before it gets clean.

He went out today and bought me clothes. Clothes that are my colour, my style, and that fit (well he thought they were too big, so we went back and changed them, but still…). I couldn’t ask for more than who he is and what he does for me.

So what extra is it that I want? I honestly don’t know. Maybe it’s the enormity of it all finally getting to me. Being responsible again to someone. Having to compromise. Changing my whole lifestyle of the last two and a half years.

Little things are getting to me. Stupid things. For example, he found a large print that he wanted to put above the bed. It’s as wide as the bed (queen) and a bit over half a metre high. It’s a picture of a naked woman lying down. If I saw it in a gallery, I’d have liked it. But above a bed? To me, it just wasn’t right. I think I was too quick with my “No”, and honestly it was just my instant reaction to it. I said to him it’s his house, his money, I’m not gonna stop him getting it. I think I disappointed him with my emphatic “No”. Like I said, somewhere else, it’d probably be nice. He said he won’t get it, because I’d have to sleep underneath it. Now I feel bad.

Number two stupid thing. My dad’s art. I have a few of his pieces. They’re mine. A few watercolours, a couple of oil paintings. I’ve mentioned a few times that he could put them wherever he likes and his responses have been pretty non-committal, so I’m just going to put them into storage with the rest of my things. The ex (E #2, not A’s mum) took over his house with her froo-froo stuff and cupid type things, so I can understand that he’d be cautious of having the same thing happen again. But it just got to me. I’m proud of my dad’s art and it’d be a shame to think it’s sitting in some dusty storage place somewhere I can’t see it. And really, I probably need something that’s ‘me’ to make me feel a bit more….at ease?

I suppose it’s all culminating because I have to give notice next week to my current landlord and once it’s done, it’s done.

I truly can’t fault C for anything, and he’s been everything I could ask for right from the start, and I know I just have some things I need to get over. Problem is, I don’t know what it is that’s fundamentally bothering me in order to solve it all for myself.

I’m sad all of a sudden. But I don’t know why. I’m frustrated and it feels like I have no patience. I feel as though there are so many things I haven’t taken into consideration (although none come to mind), so many things to do, and that there’s not going to be enough time, or I’m not going to be able to do all I need to do.

Disjointed. Chaotic. Isolated. Today, I feel like I’m watching myself from another angle and I don’t know who I am, what I’m doing, or where I’m going.

So there's an update to this.

After we got back from swapping over the tops he bought and looking at the print, we both did our own thing. I didn't want dinner, because I'd been to the gym and had a protein drink, so I wasn't hungry. Plus, he'd gone a bit quiet in the car, so I figured he was upset about the print thing and me not liking it.

We were both quiet for the next hour or so, then went to bed, where he read for a bit and I got frustrated, because I knew something was bothering him, but he wouldn't say. When he finished reading, I asked him what was up and he said nothing was. I knew better, so of course, I couldn't sleep and I got up and went into the lounge. Two hours later, after accidently falling asleep there, I went back to bed.

He didn't say anything this morning when he woke up, until he was out of the shower. I was still in bed and he came back and said sorry. At that point, I didn't say anything, because I wasn't sure he knew what he was sorry about. But then he said he only realised when he woke up that he'd been taking it out on me the fact that I didn't like the print and he was just being a control freak (his words).

I think both of us were surprised about it all, because it's probably the first thing we've not agreed upon. In all honesty, the print was nice - just for a gallery, not a bedroom, in my opinion.

It's a small thing in the big scheme of things, but the timing was/is bad for me. It just added to all the upheaval I'm feeling. I know he feels bad for making me upset, but aaaarrrgh, I'm fragile right now and don't need to be thinking either one of us is going to shut down and not talk when something's bothering us (as I'm prone to do).

It'll all be fine tonight, and we'll talk, but sheesh! Makes me wanna go eat stuff that's not on Dr F-k's list. *wry smile*