I will admit, I walked into work feeling quite negative this morning. Whereas sleep normally soothes my anxieties and provides me with a reality check and clarity, this morning that didn’t happen. Maybe writing my post this morning didn’t help either – I usually write at night but was too tired and had spent my evening gazing lovingly at Wild Card. Whilst worrying.
(Disclaimer: I am absolutely, definitely suffering from PMT)
I actually wondered if I could go through with this LDR this morning…
Maybe I do not have the right temperament for this. I am naturally anxious, have a low self esteem and plenty of relationship baggage to impede me. How long will I cope with this? The second visit was going to cement things for me. Now it probably won’t happen.
How much of this ‘relationship’ is a figment of my desires and imagination?
How can he possibly be interested in me? Last night he sent me a photograph of himself and it was just… Perfect. It actually made me gasp, my heart racing. And then I think… How the hell is he with you? Is he even with you? How do you know? Maybe you are just a distraction or a game.
It doesn’t help that he is a joker, a tease. Every day he asks me if I have missed him and love him. I always answer truthfully. Every day I ask the same. He always says no. Always with a sly look on his face or with comical emphasis. (He does text that he loves me and misses me BTW, and he always says I love you before we say goodnight but my mind wasn’t thinking about that). Most of the time I know he is joking. But sometimes, 2+2 really does equate to 124658 which means he doesn’t love me.
I walked into my office deciding that perhaps I need to take a step back. Perhaps that’s what he wants. I need to focus on myself. I’m thinking about him, this, far too much. Am I really that happy? Or do I just think I am.
Luckily for me, my first meeting was with the Head of MFL and someone I get on with really well. I’d actually confided in him about Wild Card a few weeks ago as he had repeatedly asked if I was OK and offered a trusting ear. He was good to speak to – knew of Wild Card’s culture and country, had dated someone from another culture and well, was a man. He’d given me some sound advice so far.
We talked work for a while and then the conversation moved on the Coronavirus. He is much more upto date on events than I am (I don’t watch the news purposefully) and he talked about his concerns for his pending trip abroad with his wife and small children. I put across my, seemingly, naive stance on it and we discussed it further. It then dawned on me… I am probably right, Wild Card’s reluctance could be wholly to do with the Coronavirus. I mentioned the situation and my colleague agreed, particularly knowing the culture of responsibility for guests and acknowledging the health care system there. I felt like a weight had lifted.
And then, a little later on in the morning, I happened to read a fellow blogger’s comments on my last post. And she completely and utterly made sense, again understanding his culture. If he and his family looked after me so well last time, how would they cope if I was ill? If I was stranded there? It was the first thing he asked me when I had broached the visit yesterday and whilst I may have convinced him that I was fine with it, he clearly isn’t. And his family probably aren’t either.
Wild Card had messaged me as usual and we had a quick chat with him asking how I was etc.
Someone who doesn’t care would not repeatedly ask if you’re OK.
Someone not interested in you would not spend hours of his day talking to you and making you laugh.
Have I forgotten his care and love when I visited? Have I forgotten his passion and the look on his face? Have I forgotten the frustration he has when he thinks I don’t believe or trust his feelings? Or that I have met his family and talk to them? Or his hurt when he thinks he’s upset me with his joking?
So, breathe. Stop with the bad maths and overthinking.
That night when I spoke to Wild Card, he again brought up Coronavirus, telling me that more cases had been diagnosed in his country. I siezed the opportunity and just asked him if that what why he didn’t want to book. He admitted it was. He said that, if I fell ill, he worried about the health care I would receive or what would happen if flights were cancelled. Everything slotted in to place for me, and my irrational fears were ill founded as usual.