thankstrated.
I’m a pretty blessed/fortunate/lucky person.
I grew up with (and still have) a solid, loving family, I have genuinely fantastic friends, and I’m housed! And employed! And in love! And any matter of other good stuff all at once.
Some of that is by my own effort, but I know I’ve mostly been the recipient of some pretty fantastic breaks along the way. Even when things have been difficult or challenging, I’ve had all the resources and backup I need to get through it.
Which is, of course, why I feel so guilty when I whine about any aspect of my life. Shouldn’t I focus on the good stuff? Shouldn’t I realize how small my concerns are in the grand scheme of things? Shouldn’t I shut up and stop being angsty about, uh… being angsty about complaining?
Yeah, probably.
Unfortunately, I’m imperfect with a side of annoying, and I still get really frustrated.
REALLY frustrated.
Irrationally frustrated.
At this point, I don’t take it out on the universe. I’m pretty good at keeping it in check when I’m doing work tasks or interacting with people in general. I’m definitely not the girl who throws a hissy fit at the barista because she’s having a bad day. That’s just bananas.
Who DO I take it out on?
Well, I don’t see my parents enough that they have to ride that particular emotional wave, though I have been known to call up my mom in tears and babble nonsensically until she calms me down with tales of things she has just planted, or drives my parents have taken, or little kids in her Sunday School class.
I also tend to work quite a bit, and no longer have a roommate, so time to sit down and vent with my friends is limited. When I actually DO get to see them, I’d rather have fun, anyway.
Guess who’s left?
That’s right.
Poor Gradon.
Not only does he have to get the full weight (pun INTENDED) of my insecurities, but he has to deal somewhat independently with all the things that frustrate me in life.
Like too much work.
Like not enough sleep.
Like too many weird health issues.
Like not enough money to do everything.
Like too many obstacles.
Like not enough time with him.
I know — how ironic is it that the one person I’m dying to spend face-to-face time with, I end up freaking out at to the point where he’s probably happy that I can’t just hop a plane and roll into his apartment with a head of steam?
He handles it pretty well, but I won’t pretend that we both don’t have our share of fierce words and responses for one another.
We’ve been apart since April, and while we don’t fight when we’re in the same room (same town, same life, etc.) wires get crossed when the 3,000 miles feels exactly as far as it is. There’s only so much of someone you can experience in a few hours of chat, or minutes on the phone, or even the magic of a video conference.
Funny that all that stuff was enough for me to fall in love with him… but now that I’ve actually held his hand on a train platform, or watched him fall over laughing at me trying to reach something on a shelf with my flipper arms, or sat with him and his beautiful kid in a theatre with giant 3-D glasses on?
Yeah, it pretty much falls exactly as short as you’d think.
Logically, I should be jolly and positive when we do communicate, and cherish the time. But logic goes out the window when loneliness and frustration and anxiety take over for the security I feel when I’m there. Add to that the fact that we have big plans to make, that we had to cancel all trips to see each other until September, that Gradon was recently let go and needs to find new work, that everything from visas to engagements to weddings to moves to communicating costs far too much money, that I will need to find work there, that I’m leaving most of what I know as my life behind in half a year… not to mention the normal stuff couples go through in trying to figure one another out.
Nothing seems to want to go forward in a linear way.
Which makes it far too easy to forget how lucky I am.
And THEN I feel horrible for feeling that way, and beat up on both of us a little more for not being Very Happy Just To Have Found One Another and All You Need Is Love and Love is All You Need.
It’s the best cycle ever.
So I’m trying a little something different, starting today.
I’m trying for “thankstration”.
Which sounds a lot like something NOT so good for the opposite gender… but bear with me.
I don’t have to be all the way up, or all the way down, or all the way optimistic, or all the way pessimistic.
I don’t have to save up all my angst for the person who I’m planning my future with, even if it involves him.
I don’t have to feel stuck OR feel pressured like everything has to be fixed in the next ten seconds.
I don’t have to articulate every single bit of stress I feel to be “real” or swallow it all to be “fake”.
And I can bitch a little without feeling like I’m turning a blind eye to all the great things in my life.
Balance, young grasshopper.
If you’ve ever seen me try to walk a straight line/ride a skateboard/put on heels/put the coffee down/force myself to go to bed/refrain from swearing at hockey games you know it’s not my strong suit.
But there’s a first time for everything.
Thanks for putting up with me, kid.
