If I don’t call my mom, I won’t have to know if anything else bad has happened, right? But then I leave her there, with her pain and her pile of work and worst of all, my father.
I never know what I’m supposed to do. Live my life? Live her life? Move back and help her? Move on and help myself? Call? Don’t call?
I so often choose not to call. I know. I’m the worst.
Does it get easier?
Day 121 – So tired
Do so-called “normal” people have as many ups and downs as I do? What is normal, though? Like, pumpkin spice lattes and cute fall photos and long blonde hair and a terrier puppy and a small waist and a job in PR? Or, like, a big friend group and co-ed sports teams and tickets to concerts out in the desert and a boyfriend of 8 years that’s perfect and church on Sundays? Or, better yet, a comfortable job and financial security and good friends and a spouse and a house and a workout class every Wed/Fri and hosting themed parties and in bed by 10?
Instead, I have emotional roller coaster rides and confusion and judgment from my family and flaky friends and constant sadness and lots of cookies and evenings on the couch watching reruns and a job I tolerate that pays me next to nothing and a dream I haven’t accomplished yet and disappointing my parents and anxiety.
Am I doing it wrong?
Day 117 – Normal
Relationships are hard. We pee with the door open now. We’re there.
We still date each other, which is nice. But now it’s like: go to work, text about work while at work, come home and talk about work, sleep so we can go to work.
He’s not working right now, which is amazing, because that means he has more energy than I do to clean or cook or walk our dog or workout. I appreciate all these things. But it’s unsettling, too.
Are we just going to end up as roommates? Will we still like each other? Will we still love each other? Are we going to have chore wheels and arguments about splitting the bills and sit around in our sweats burping up our takeout? Is that what happens? I feel like that’s what happens.
Day 114 – Roommates or Romance?
It happened. Half his stuff. In the house. The move-in was actually pretty seamless. But then we got in a fight about… something. I can’t really remember. It seemed important.
He didn’t want me to put dishes away. I wanted to put dishes away. That was the fight.
For the record, I put the dishes away.
Day 112 – First day fight