Love or Something Like It

No this isn’t my usual tirade by anymeans. Just a bitter little observation.

Love is hard for me, really not surprising given my opinion of her. I wish sometimes that it wasn’t. I don’t mean by this that I find it hard to fall in love or hard to love, once I have let myself, once I have understood that this person is someone I cannot help loving then I find it awfully easy to plunge into really quite strong emotions. Sometimes scarily strong. But it’s hard for me to say. It is getting easier, but every so often the enormity of what I feel, the enormity of what love is, makes the words catch in my throat.

I find it easier to love by actions rather than words and even then I’m finding that being with people who I feel for sometimes gets to much for me because I feel like all this feeling is going to explode out of me…it’ll make a godawful mess on the carpet. I suppose reading this has people assuming that I’m talking about romantic love but I’m not. What prompted this entry was my weekly phone conversation with my Grandma who ended the phonecall on ‘I love you.’ I found it so difficult to reply to. I mean the obvious response is, ‘I love you too.’ which I said but after having to make actual physical effort, and the awkward silence on the phone during which I can almost feel my Grandma (my Grandma who I adore) thinking, does she? Is she going to say it?

The sheer emotionality of it, the rawness of this thing which is so primal causes me to remain silent far longer than is ever polite. To pull away when I should dare to remain.

My family think I’m an odd one for sure. I don’t know what my friends might think of the fact that my family largely regard me as being non-tactile. I find it very difficult to touch my family, to hug them or kiss them or whatever. Partly this is because half of said family regard it as perfectly proper to kiss ones family on the lips and this makes me squick. I actually have in the past put down the fact that I don’t touch my famiy as being down to me associating touch with sexuality (anyone who has touched me knows what sort of nerves get stimulated with the mildest of caresses) and despite my theoretical defences of non-reproductive incest for other people…YICK! In actual real-life personal situations.

I don’t think it is entirely that.

I need a certain amount of distance and familiarity with feelings. My emotional life has threated to devour me on too many occaisions. So I guess this ends up with me in situations, even now, when I simply can’t say the right words or do the right things for fear of just losing it. I need to pull away, to gather myself because this love thing for me, is uncontainable and truly terrifying, to have any way to face it I need to be certain of my ground and I need time to calm my rather extreme and bizarre reactions. I never want to be so familiar with love that the words come easily to my lips, but eventually I think I will be able to say them when I mean them, rather than stumble and dry up when I try or have my subconcious sneak the words from my lips before I notice.

Sometimes I force myself to say the words, not because I don’t mean them but because I find them so hard to say. One day I think maybe I and the Bitch will come to an arrangement, we’ll make it work so that I can love my friends and my family calmly and in front of them, rather than secretly and almost on the sly.

One day maybe I’ll even stop calling her the Bitch… maybe.

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