I awoke at 4.30am to the sound of a howling dog in pain.
Trouble was, I then couldn’t get back to sleep.
I’ve been paid for the first time from my school. It’s not a great wage. A number of things could have affected that: it may not be a full month depending on when their cut off date is; my tax could still be wrong; my SEN payment may not have been added. I also need to remember that as I now get holiday pay, this is no longer calculated into my daily allowance. It still seems low though and even when I put the figures through an online calculator, I’m about £400 down.
This morning when Wildcard came in, I got my accustomed kiss but no hug which I immediately called him out on. He then asked me how I’d slept and I told him the truth: after waking at 4.30am I’d struggled to get back to sleep.
I’d thought about money and work. And I’d thought about him. It was rather indulgent of me: Tolle’s work centres around not thinking about the future. But it’s hard not to, particularly at that time of night.
He of course asked me why I didn’t sleep and I, of course, refused to tell him. Why? Because nothing good comes from repeatedly airing my fears to him. We both know what they are. I’ve learnt my lesson here too, from the past. Talking about my fears in our relationship does nothing but put a black cloud over our week. So I kept quiet.
He asked me, over and over and over again. And I didn’t tell him. I know it is triggering his own anxiety. Despite being closed off in many ways, 3.5 years of being his has taught me something. He will worry about what I was thinking about and I don’t want that. But his silent wonderings are better than an atmosphere and hurt caused by my words. So, I stayed silent.
This morning, he opened his arms so I could rest my face in the place where his neck meets his shoulders, whilst he played his game. And then, I decided to play too, my own way. Living in the now, in the moment, caressing and kissing his body: showing my love.
This is something else I’ve learned. For all his bravado, he is as self conscious about his body as I am of mine. Women, we are stupid if we believe otherwise. He is masculine and beautiful with a dark, hairy chest and stomach and I just love it. He says he looks like a monkey. I say he is masculine and sexy and handsome. He repeats that he looks like a monkey. See what I mean? So I touch and caress and kiss so he knows how much I love every last millimetre of his body just as I love every single fragment of light that is his soul. I love him my way, show him, give to him.
After he holds me and I tell him I love him. He says, “I love you too.”
But then it’s breakfast and it’s time for him to go to work. He asks if I need anything, and I point at him. He then jokes that he will just leave work and sit next to me every day then. I tell him that he asked a question and I answered with the truth. He blows me an elaborate kiss as he walks out the door.
So here I am, with a full head and a full heart and an empty day.
And that’s that. I’m half way through my trip.
My day consisted of washing clothes, listening to a few podcasts, sunbathing of sorts and watching Queen Charlotte again. And missing Wildcard of course.
It was a long day and he didn’t get home until 6pm. I was so glad to see him and I think he was glad to see me too.
He was tired and so again, I just tried to let him relax. He sensed my restlessness though.
So, I tell the truth: I’m waiting for him.
“Waiting for you to be relaxed.”
“Waiting for me to be relaxed? Why?”
“Well, then you might be ready to talk to me or something.”
“Talk to you about what?”
And with my final, ‘I don’t know’, that was that.
Moments later, he was on the verge of sleeping and I can’t blame him. Working solidly in the heat for those long hours, he must be exhausted.
By the time I’d come out of the bathroom however, pondering what to do with myself, I saw he’d moved to the bedroom. So we lay, limbs entwined, whilst he relaxed and we watched things on his phone.
It’s actually Day Six now. I couldn’t finish that post yesterday.
I actually tried to finish it in the early hours of the morning. But I acknowledged that I’d let myself descend into negativity and overthinking, whilst proclaiming I hadn’t.
I’ve spent the time since Wildcard went to work reading the rest of Tolle and writing a reflection. I’ve brought myself round.
And so… back to last night.
We spent the evening on the bed, legs wrapped around each other. He continued on his phone. Sometimes I watched with him, sometimes I focused on the feel of his hand in mine. At one point, he played a game where he wouldn’t hold my hand, instead, resting his fingers on the back of my hand. The more I squirmed to hold his hand, the more he moved back to his position. It made me laugh.
We made love. He teased me with that too: seemingly focused on his phone whilst apparently absent mindedly loving me to a frenzy. Afterwards, I again let my fear add fuel to his simple words and triggered me into a reaction he couldn’t understand. We were on different wavelengths and my overthinking and fear took me there.
This man loves me. He knows my head is negative. He knows I overthink and I worry. Yet he’s still here. He loves me anyway.
Now, right now, I surrender to my current fears. I accept that I have them. I see them. But in seeing them and accepting them, they’re no longer who I am. They are a separate entity. And that’s what Day Six will work on.