I'm Five

Do you want to hear me talk at length about eating and not eating food? No. OK, fine. I will refrain from that.

K and I have been trying to date with minimal success and a lot of crying for about 4 years now. Finally we decided that we would go to counseling and hash out in there whether we should keep at it or just put the relationship out of it’s misery. That was about 6 months ago now. Yesterday, he said to me “It’s hard to remember it, but I was so scared we wouldn’t be able to work it out.”

I remember it clearly, and that’s not what I was scared of. I was scared it would. Because I was scared of this part.

Our relationship didn’t have much going for it in terms of partnership or fun or basic human decency, but from my perspective, it did have one really great feature, which is that it was his fault. Man, he was a disaster. Oh, when would he start taking care of himself?! Alas! Except, then he started taking care of himself, getting better, getting well, getting happy. And it got harder and harder for me.

Being with unwell and unhappy people puts me in a very safe position. I can counsel, I can help, I can give, I can sympathize. Lots of arrow-pointing-that-way kind of feelings.  I rarely have to deal with myself in any way. How could I? X person is in crisis! It would be selfish to seek their help, or to talk about my problems, or to express my disappointments or engage them as a fellow passenger to the grave or anything else hard to do.

But now, we’re even. We can’t just react to him all the time. Now I have to learn to do things even, and man, do I suck at it.

So many of the moments when my life has gotten better have felt like this. Like being a stupid baby whose head doesn't stay up yet. It’s good knowing where the process likely to end up, but I still don’t like it. I don’t like the icky, vulnerable, trying to dance feeling of having feelings. I hate not being able to feel like I’m “good at” a conversation or an interaction. I hate needing things and not being able to throw that need on the resentment pile where it can smolder and later be used as self righteousness when I don’t want to have some OTHER feeling. Lame.

The other day. K was having trouble and I was trying to help him, and even after I had spreadsheeted his problem all out into piles and put a happy face on it, instead of being relieved of suffering and brimming with appreciative adoration, he was still stressed out and anxious and I got mad. I did not even know what I was mad about, although I kept trying to say things that made no sense as if they did. “I just don’t like it when you use that expression of despair.” Or something.

Somehow, he saw it before I did. “That wasn’t a test,” he said. “You didn’t fail.”

“I know.” I said.

“It wasn’t a test,” he said again. “You didn’t fail.”

Then I started inexplicably sobbing. All snot-faced and five and totally unseated.

See what I mean? Those are some dumb, c-level feelings. It is pretty something to have walked in the world for 35 years and still not know what you are doing and why at such a fundamental level. Pretty lame. Pretty hilarious. Probably pretty common.

When you’re a little kid you go through this period when you are basically learning everything. Shapes! Colors! Cause and effect! Bath toys! Eggs! And you’re all giddy because there are so many things to add to your store of knowledge. I feel like that now. I mean, I feel five in the helpless boogery way, but I also feel five in the LEARN ALL THE THINGS way. It’s exciting to be able to see these things and do them and laugh and cope.

And the next day, K asked me to help with another problem. The whole thing wasn’t broken. It hadn’t been a test. I hadn’t failed. And now I help better. Not good, but better.