I’m just going to come out and say it: We’re struggling.
I figure this is what all couples go through when they are transitioning their lives into cohabitation, starting new jobs (him), changing schedules (both of us), and having more than one job to juggle (both of us). This does not mean the end is near. It does not mean we’re not a good couple. It just means that. . . we’re human.
Because for a girl who often constantly puts such rigid and high standards upon herself that only a super-human could achieve them, this has been and persists in being, an on-going exercise in adapting.
Last night at therapy I spent the majority of it cataloging the ways in which I am “wrong” and “unworthy” and how I will, let’s face it, inevitably fuck this great thing up. Because that’s what my old story tells me. Because that’s the line I’ve been feeding myself for ages. That old stuff is a lot of BS wrapped in old hurt. The take-away message from therapy was “stop should-ing all over myself”. As Mr. Darcy is often reminding me, life is messy and the best laid plans will probably get fucked up so we have got to learn to roll with it.
I’m just so used to beating myself up. Lately it’s as though I am under a microscope. Every fault I have is on display and there is no hiding. I feel vulnerable and embarrassed. I am like a blemish-covered face without any cover up. Eeek! Who wants to see that? Except, Mr. Darcy does want to see it. Because that’s why he is my Mr. Darcy. He likes me just as I am.
I guess I’m still trying to swallow that truth. I falter not because I question his sincerity (never) but because I question my worth. During these tumultuous times, it’s hard for me to remember that I’ve made a lot of progress. It’s hard for me to believe I deserve this and him.
Love is messy and complicated. Sometimes we inadvertently hurt each other. Sometimes we are both so stressed out we aren’t able to be supportive of the other person. Sometimes we misunderstand each other. Sometimes we laugh like crazy. Sometimes we have an idyllic day. Sometimes we argue. But I’m trying. And he is trying. We’re stumbling around trying to figure things out. Sometimes we bump into each other, head first, and it hurts like hell. Sometimes we find the other person’s hand in the dark and fumble along together.
Because we’re in this together. This is not a fluke- it’s the real deal. We want it to work. And it will only work if we work at it.