Sometimes I don't think I have anything to write about. I haven't done anything or gone anywhere. Last night would normally have fallen into the "too-normal" to mention category. Luke and I took a hot tub soak, made dinner and watched the movie Old Joy. But between the soak and dinner we discussed our relationship and its challenges. Particularly my tendency to change rapidly from engagement to annoyance. And to suddenly be snappy and kinda mean. At which point I responded, "I'm a hard woman!' Which was a way of flattering myself because I have always loved the song by Cat Stevens with a similar theme. And he responded, yes you are a hard woman. You are a hard person.
He is the kindest person I have ever met so when he says I am hard, I listen. He would not say it if it were not true. And when he says I am rigid and self-involved, and he says it with love and a little sad smile, I feel scared and embarrassed. Because I can suddenly see myself as he does and I don't like it. And I see my whole life behind me and I know that I have not always been this way. But I am not surprised. This hard place is also very safe.
I have been mending and reconstructing my life over the last three years. I have pulled myself up and put myself back together. Stitched tight all the torn pieces. So tight, so well, that I have closed and covered trust and love and ease. I am - lean, self-sufficient, controlled. I am not - nurturing, vulnerable, soft. I am not in balance.