Ok, so I have moved on from yesterday's darkness - with the help of a load of alcohol, a visit from my love and some sleep (plus the promise of not being in the office for 5 days).
Doug continues to amaze me! Of course he was incredibly understanding that I was in a dark place last night and was very comforting. We started talking about family, and he began recounting all kinds of information, stories and folklore about his family. I have to admit that I was kind of jealous because I always feel like I'm on the periphery of my extended family and that I don't know all those details and stories of my family that the rest of them know.
He also told me about how his dad had framed a copy of Rudyard Kipling's poem "If" and hung it in Doug's room as a child. Instead of reading him bedtime stories, his dad would read him the poem. He looked it up and read it to me. What a beautiful and inspiring - with complete truth of life - piece of art! The more that Doug tells me about his dad, the greater respect I have for them both.
With shows, spending time with Doug, attempting to connect with friends, working and recovering from a longterm chaotic schedule, I haven't taken the time to gush in my blog about him as our relationship as progressed. Of course, some of that is a protective tendency that I have - don't publicize something so incredibly good so that you don't look like a fool if it fails and can shrug it off easier. The tendency to constantly be aware of the likelihood of the other shoe dropping is still ingrained in me, but at least it is to a lesser obsessive degree, for now.
On Saturday, Doug and I were having one of our usual Saturday morning chats where we'll talk about a little bit of everything from the mundane and trivial to the deep and intimate. Somehow in the conversation we were talking about the things we had been so afraid to share with each other initially. He said that he remembered how scared I had been in telling him about my ostomy. I agreed, and we discussed it a bit more. He once again looked me in the eye and told me that it doesn't wierd him out and that I should never feel bad about it. No one else should have a problem with it, either. It is what had to happen for me continue to be on this earth and be healthy. The conviction, sincerity and care that he spoke with literally made me cry. He hugged me and just held me.
I have never understood before in my life about crying for joy. I've never had anything to be all that joyful about - and I barely cry even if something is overwhelmingly upsetting. Since NYE, though, I can think of more times than I can count on both hands that I have either teared up or full-out cried because I was so touched or content or just happy with something he did or just knowing he's in my life.
As worn out as I get by being around other people all the time, he is the glaring exception to that. Being with him doesn't exhaust or irritate me, it renews me. I don't ever want to consider a time when he won't be in my life. As excited as I am about the girls' trip to Savannah this weekend, I wish it was him and me going on a trip together. Every night when either one of us has to go home or one of us has to stay at the other's house, I think that I can't wait until we live in one home together. I think about that all the time!
Who would have EVER believed that the jaded, independent, anti-commitment, "I'm fine being single forever b/c that's what I know" girl would do a complete 180 - especially in such a short time?
I feel - with every sense that I have - that this is the right thing for me. Beyond any doubt. And that - finally - makes me happy.
