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10:16 p.m. - 2012-12-10
baby birds
I spent most of the day hiding in A's bed. This morning (I thought it was morning) she extracted herself and then came back and prodded me with incessant offers of nourishment: "Do you want coffee?"

Me (mostly asleep): "Uh-uh. No. Sleep."

Her: "Food?"

Me: "Un-uh."

Her: "I could chew it up and spit it in your mouth like a baby bird."

Me: "That's disgusting."

Her: "That's what mommy birds do. You could be a little baby bird."

Me: "Mommy birds sit on their eggs until they're ready to hatch. Leave me alone. I'm not ready to hatch!"

I rolled over and pulled the covers back over my head emphatically while A. laughed at me. Her laughing made me smile under the covers. I love her laughing.

I love that we have the same quirky sense of humor and flights of fancy; we both like to abuse similes and metaphors.

I like that when I'm with her I feel sane and safe and comfortable; sometimes it worries me because I think, I am really not that sane or that nice of a person and maybe I will end up hurting her.

But then I think, actually I AM that sane; it is just years of living with Matt and being told that I'm crazy and emotional and unbalanced on a daily basis that made me express those aspects of my personality more. Even at my most insane and unbalanced, I've always had a job, always been able to take care of myself, always tried to take care of him and other people. For all the nasty things he has said about me, when he moved out, telling me I'm toxic, he left his kids with me. He has always said I'm a good mother, and a better parent. Would he have done that, and said that, if I'm truly toxic?

I like that I don't feel alone when I'm with A. I often felt alone with Matt. For the first seven or eight years, he said he didn't feel alone with me and I swallowed the words that I did, with him. A lot of times, I stayed because he needed me and he loved me and I couldn't hurt him. I tried really hard not to hurt him, and not to be toxic, and when he told me I was I felt like there was something about me that was poisonous to other people, no matter how hard I tried.

A doesn't put me down and make me feel bad, like he always did (in the kindest, most supportive way possible). She doesn't make me feel inadequate. She doesn't reject me for things I say.

And she doesn't respond to intimate, emotional confessions on my part by poking me with a penis. Which is a definite relationship plus, in my opinion.



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