repost: You are reading http://livinginthehood.blogspot.com
I tried to tell her today. But I needed to protect myself. I mean, it's theoretically possible she might have gotten back in her car, driven off, and left me and Porkchop at Petroglyphs Monument. I doubt it, but I'm street; I take care of myself.
It was a beautiful morning: sunrise over the Sandias, hiking with the dog.
She came back here and showed me a film she'd made. It was very interesting. It told me a lot about the inside of her mind. I was encouraged.
And, as was the plan, once the movie ended, she got up to leave.
Oh, I was hoping I'd get to ask then. But she was already standing and packing.
I walked her out.
She stepped over my fence. That boundary between us: don't follow; stay on your own side.
My heart was screaming, "TELL her! Don't do this to yourself!"
But I let her go without asking my questions. It was too late. She was too determined to continue her day and her plans.
I felt tested: don't cling, Rogi. Don't demand.
She edited one of our future plans: we won't have a picnic before we attend an event next week.
Ouch. What does that mean?
I came in and sat down, still slightly in shock from the power of my own emotions.
I sent an email. I said there are things I need to ask her; could she find some time, so I could do this in person, rather than by email?
I came to this blog and reread my questions.
With some MINOR editing, I sent them to her. I sent her Wild Women, too.
I haven't been this affected by a woman in fifteen years, I told her. It makes me shy around her. And I apologized for not being honest. She deserves that.
I'll take care of myself, whatever happens. I always have.
I wish I'd told her today. But I don't regret taking as good care of myself as I know how.
I love a woman! That's so precious to me! It means I have my courage back. It means I can be authentic again.
This is a nervous thing, of course.
But it's also the greatest blessing I could have been given.
I feel complete. I feel healed. I feel whole.
However she chooses to deal with this is hers.
But I love a woman. I'm Home.
