Those with the capacity to read between the lines may have noticed that my relationship with R. is never easy, and that it has been especially stormy since Thanksgiving.  (Or maybe you didn’t have to read between the lines, and I just thought I was being subtle.)

We are, at the moment, in relationship meltdown.  The kind where exchanging a civil word seems impossible, when all you hear in the other person’s voice is hurt, disappointment, and resentment.

My bizarre pollyannish nature thinks that somehow, someday, we will get out of this.  That we will salvage our friendship and perhaps even our love affair; certainly that we will salvage our sexual connection, which seems to be there whether we want it to be or not.  My brain is laughing at my heart, and the rest of me is just confused.

The thing about it is that R. and I really, really love each other.  And we are really rotten to each other.  I can be mean, vicious, and cruel in a fight.  He can push and push and push, hard, right up against another person’s boundaries.  We know this about ourselves.  Today I was blathering on to someone about how I really didn’t want to be a doormat in my relationship, which I have done before.  She said, “It sounds like you’re not being a doormat.  You’re taking turns stepping on each other.”  At the same time, the person to whom I was speaking has a great deal of compassion, and she was saying how very sad it is to see where R. and I are now, because we do love each other, and our relationship has just become destructive of late.

When I say destructive, I mean, explosive.  I called him a coward.  He didn’t call me on my birthday.  I even de-friended him on Fetlife, if you can believe it. It’s that petty.

I’m ashamed of myself, ashamed that I am acting this way.  (I can hear his voice in my head, angry and frustrated.  He’d say, “THEN STOP!!!!”)  The truth is that every time I try to make things better I end up making things worse.  Sometimes you just need to not try to fix things, which is hard for me.  If there is something I can be doing, I want to do it–and then if it doesn’t work immediately I get frustrated.

What I’m writing now isn’t going anywhere.  I just need to get it out.  I also don’t want to keep posting cheerful, sex-soaked things here when that isn’t my reality.  I don’t want to give away private details but I don’t want to lie either.  That doesn’t feel like it makes sense, but that’s what it is.

I feel bad because I know R. reads the blog and everything I say right now seems to be making him angry.  I don’t want to be using this space as a way to communicate with him, or to get his attention.  Right now I just feel like I need to . . . write it.  Document it.

I seem to have relationship amnesia at times.  I have seen my father have this too.  He will say awful, horrible things, and then the next day he will be happy as pie and will have forgotten that he was a jerk.  If you call him on it, he will say he didn’t really mean it.  I know that he didn’t mean it, but as R. says, there are some things that can’t get unsaid when you say them.  And yes, I’ve been working on my temper in the shrink’s office, and it’s better except when it isn’t.

One thing that is somewhat comforting right now is to know that this is a hard time of the year.  R. and I had the big meltdown fight because we were discussing something that needs to happen, something that we both want very much to have happen (although I don’t think he believes that I want it), something that we were thinking of doing over the holidays.  But for me, it was too much to try to do it over the holidays.  This time of the year is so soaked with meaning, with pressure and family commitments and expectations.  What he and I want to do needs to be light, free from expectations, non-pressured.  It’s not the right time for it, or maybe it’s not the right time for it for me.

Holidays can bring people to the brink, to the breaking point.  Gray Lily had a post today about how she so desperately needs her lover to commit to her, to fish or cut bait (my words).  Green Woman wrote about finding a place of solace in the holidays, too.  It’s hard to think of being “alone” over the holidays.  This is the last place I want to be.

R. and I have spent the holidays together the past two years, though it feels to me like the past ten.  From the first we met it felt like we had known each other for years.  It hurts so much thinking of him and his tree, and his traditions, and his stupid turkey which I usually end up basting all day with apple juice and which is always so good, and thinking that I won’t be a part of that.  It hurts to think of his family, who don’t necessarily love me, but whom I have come to love.  It hurts to think we won’t play the perverted games in the snow that we always talk about and never get around to.  (Of course, those games would also hurt.)

As he said earlier this month, it hurts all over.

But as he also said, we know how to get through this.  We just keep on getting up in the morning and living the day and then going to bed at night and grabbing what pleasure out of life we can.  I’m going to go home to be with my family and I’m going to enjoy that time as much as I can.  And as much as I hope that he and I can find a way back to being good to each other, I have to know that right now all we’re doing is hurting each other, and to give us room to heal, each ourselves alone.

So I am going to try to be quiet over the holidays, to take time to heal and rest.  I don’t want to leave this as the last, gloomy post at the top of the blog, but if that’s all I get to write before I go home for Christmas, so be it.  I’m still wishing everyone joy, peace, and love.  Be well.