This weekend I’ve been grateful to feel…
Elevated and enthusiastic after trying a deep end fitness class. You do an underwater fitness workout followed by an Underwater Torpedo League (UTL) game. I had as much fun or maybe more than I had expected. I’ve been flirting with the idea of this class for at least a year and a half now so I’m also proud to have gotten myself there. I’ve never been in a whole pool of people who swim like a fish like I do. Twirling, messing around, relishing the physics of water. The membership is expensive though and I’d only be able to make it twice a week. I’d have to leave Cubu home alone both those times. I haven’t decided whether to continue, although the thought of stopping bums me out.
Accomplished and healthy with my lunch pick. Cubu went to an upscale pizza buffet with friends and I was going to attend until I realized I didn’t want to go. So I went my own way, found my own great lunch stop, and spent an hour and a half working through a spanish textbook. I feel like I’ve worked both my brain and body in one day. I’m proud of putting the effort into myself rather than eating garbage pizza during a conversation that bores me.
Sad and worried after a conversation with Cubu. I don’t know how small talk came up but it did and he insisted what he talked about with his friends wasn’t small talk. In frustration (and honestly I was spikey about it) I googled small talk and it was just a list of everything they talk about. He asked why I get so mean about this, why this topic always has me speaking in acid tones (my words, not his). I realized my fear of having made the wrong choice in a partner comes out in its strongest, bitterest form when convo material is mentioned. Reaching in, I could feel that familiar pit of despair and fear that I’ve chosen wrong. That I NEED a partner to be internally focused, enjoying those deep convos, one who actually wants talks with emotional content. Not who considers smalltalk a fulfilling conversation. How long do I deny this about myself? Are we going to therapy because I want our communication to improve or because I want him to become fundamentally different? I shared most of this and we sat silent for a while, sad. We hugged for a long time after. These hugs always feel like ones you get at a funeral, hanging on to the life of a mutual something that is slipping away.
Depressed about my family. We had our card game night and it was nice, went like it always does: nearly silent the entire two hours; if I say something to start a convo, even small talk, it gets entirely ignored; most people are on their phones on the side. We typically schedule the next one at the end of the current one. I told them I love them but I don’t need this every month, let’s shoot for two months from now. It felt devastating. I had to prioritize my time over my family, after a lifetime of doing the opposite and trying to wrangle uninterested people into the semblance of a relationship. I’m profoundly grateful to have so many symbolic families that have taken me in. But the wound from my origin family never seems to close. It feels like I can connect with nearly everyone I choose to except for them. I can see how, growing up, I assumed I was the problem.
