My appointment with George was a little better yesterday.
The front gate wasn't locked and the front screen door was propped open. I didn't have to ring the doorbell.
George appeared with his familiar smile that bunches up his cheeks.
"Hey you - come on in"
Ok. This was a bit better.
We both sat in his black leather chairs facing each other.
We talked. George drew on the whiteboard again. He stuck to the book in his manner with me and his advice was professional and very clinical.
George tends to go off on a tangent and when I'm in a better frame of mind than I am now, I recognise it quickly and I tell him off "George. LISTEN to me". He'll laugh "Oops. Sorry!" and we'll get back on track.
Yesterday I just let him meander off the track. I really needed to talk to him about my fear, anxiety and depression. I really needed some help sorting through the tangle of emotions in my mind and heart. George passed over this and seemed to grasp onto the fact that "Amos" is black and that I don't date black guys (true. I'm just not attracted to them). He thinks it's something deep in my psyche that something happened to me - or to my Mom (?) when I was younger that I don't remember but now I hold something against black guys and now that Amos has frightened me, I am not recovering from this as quickly as I would have if a white guy had done the same because it's "triggered" something deep within that's put me in trauma of some kind.
What???
*sigh*
Anyway.
I caught the train home and cried all the way.
I'm crying over the loss of George. I'm crying because work wears me out. I'm crying because 8 hours of sitting just 45cms away from a man who scared the sh*t out of me wears me out. I'm crying because my bones hurt. I cried also because I got caught in cold, heavy rain and was soaked to the bones and absolutely bloody miserable.
The one thing that cheered me up was that Alun would be home.
When we hug, I feel like all my pieces come back together.
Alun is always so warm and smells SO GOOD. You have no idea.
The memory of his strong arms around me lifted my spirits.
I got home and Alun was sat on the kitchen bench. We have 3 sofas in the house, but he always sits on the bench. That boy.
He was in tears.
Instantly I dropped my bag on the floor and went to him. I enfolded him in my arms and held him as he shook. He was crying so much that my shoulder was wet in seconds.
"Gorg, what's wrong?"
"I'm just so anxious. I'm so scared and sad all the time" Alun sobbed into my neck.
Oh no.
"I don't know what's wrong with me" he sobbed.
I do.
You're going through a rough time and you're depressed again, my love.
My heart broke for the love of my life. Seeing Alun struggle is one of the worst things ever.
I rubbed his back while he talked and cried. Alun's little hiccups in between are so cute but I had to stop myself from smiling, it wasn't the right time.
"I'm just so tired, Gorg" He went on "so stressed at work, I don't sleep or eat anymore (I've noticed), I don't know what to do"
I do. Just listen.
So I did. I just listened. A secondary 'love language' of Alun's is touch so I held him as much as possible. Even when I reached for the tissue box to offer tissues to him, I kept my hand on his thigh so we'd still be in contact.
Alun had cried it out and wanted to watch TV. I was exhausted so I went to bed.
I pulled the covers over my head, covered my mouth with a pillow and just cried and cried.
If Alun can't be strong...then I have to.
The front gate wasn't locked and the front screen door was propped open. I didn't have to ring the doorbell.
George appeared with his familiar smile that bunches up his cheeks.
"Hey you - come on in"
Ok. This was a bit better.
We both sat in his black leather chairs facing each other.
We talked. George drew on the whiteboard again. He stuck to the book in his manner with me and his advice was professional and very clinical.
George tends to go off on a tangent and when I'm in a better frame of mind than I am now, I recognise it quickly and I tell him off "George. LISTEN to me". He'll laugh "Oops. Sorry!" and we'll get back on track.
Yesterday I just let him meander off the track. I really needed to talk to him about my fear, anxiety and depression. I really needed some help sorting through the tangle of emotions in my mind and heart. George passed over this and seemed to grasp onto the fact that "Amos" is black and that I don't date black guys (true. I'm just not attracted to them). He thinks it's something deep in my psyche that something happened to me - or to my Mom (?) when I was younger that I don't remember but now I hold something against black guys and now that Amos has frightened me, I am not recovering from this as quickly as I would have if a white guy had done the same because it's "triggered" something deep within that's put me in trauma of some kind.
What???
*sigh*
Anyway.
I caught the train home and cried all the way.
I'm crying over the loss of George. I'm crying because work wears me out. I'm crying because 8 hours of sitting just 45cms away from a man who scared the sh*t out of me wears me out. I'm crying because my bones hurt. I cried also because I got caught in cold, heavy rain and was soaked to the bones and absolutely bloody miserable.
The one thing that cheered me up was that Alun would be home.
When we hug, I feel like all my pieces come back together.
Alun is always so warm and smells SO GOOD. You have no idea.
The memory of his strong arms around me lifted my spirits.
I got home and Alun was sat on the kitchen bench. We have 3 sofas in the house, but he always sits on the bench. That boy.
He was in tears.
Instantly I dropped my bag on the floor and went to him. I enfolded him in my arms and held him as he shook. He was crying so much that my shoulder was wet in seconds.
"Gorg, what's wrong?"
"I'm just so anxious. I'm so scared and sad all the time" Alun sobbed into my neck.
Oh no.
"I don't know what's wrong with me" he sobbed.
I do.
You're going through a rough time and you're depressed again, my love.
My heart broke for the love of my life. Seeing Alun struggle is one of the worst things ever.
I rubbed his back while he talked and cried. Alun's little hiccups in between are so cute but I had to stop myself from smiling, it wasn't the right time.
"I'm just so tired, Gorg" He went on "so stressed at work, I don't sleep or eat anymore (I've noticed), I don't know what to do"
I do. Just listen.
So I did. I just listened. A secondary 'love language' of Alun's is touch so I held him as much as possible. Even when I reached for the tissue box to offer tissues to him, I kept my hand on his thigh so we'd still be in contact.
Alun had cried it out and wanted to watch TV. I was exhausted so I went to bed.
I pulled the covers over my head, covered my mouth with a pillow and just cried and cried.
If Alun can't be strong...then I have to.
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