Shut up!

Had a lovely night/day with the Filmmaker last night/today.

(SIDE NOTE: I’m really enjoying how many of my blogs are starting with that statement.)

Oh, and by the way:

Dear Filmmaker,

If you’re reading this blog, please don’t freak out. This blog is the unadulterated, unfiltered things going on in my head. I hope you understand that and just take it at face value. I’m happy to discuss any of this with you, should you get past this point. You’re awesome. Luv.

Okay, back to the blog. Which, by the way, I had written and decided it was too long and too complicated and too much rehashing of stuff I’ve already said.

So anyway, cutting to the chase.

As I lay in his arms, supposedly falling asleep, I just couldn’t. And I know I’ve had trouble falling asleep at his place, which I’ve always put off as his snoring keeping me awake. (I apparently snore also, so…) And I thought I’d been getting used to it because I have been sleeping better, once I fall asleep. But I still have trouble falling asleep.

As I tossed and turned last night, trying not to wake him, I found myself getting more and more frustrated. I was very tired. I had worked hard all day and had done a bunch of work at his place that night. We both dozed off on the couch watching Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. So I should be fine falling asleep.

But at 2:45 AM, I was still staring at the ceiling. And suddenly, I realized why.

When I’m at home, I fall asleep to the TV -- or lately, to Netflix and “Torchwood” or “Doctor Who” or “Firefly” or anything else in my instant queue. I always thought it was because my last few apartments have been noisy and the sound of the TV helps me tune out the exterior noise.

But last night, I realized it wasn’t the external noise keeping me awake, it was the internal noise.

Now, it wasn’t the usual clowns yammering away at me. This was a bit more disturbing because it was more like something out of the Screwtape Letters, where a senior devil is teaching a junior devil how to subtlely seduce their subject over to the dark side. It’s not by being big and loud, like my clowns usually are. It’s about being quiet and sneaky, not letting the subject know you’re even doing it.

So in my head, the Screwtapes were whispering things that didn’t seem to be terribly wrong at first. Just going over the evening -- in finite detail -- every single moment -- every single word. He said that? Why did he say that? No, that’s fine. He didn’t mean anything. And he didn’t spoon with you. Hm. That must mean something, right? Although he doesn’t always spoon so it shouldn’t be a surprise. But maybe it means something because he doesn’t always do it. What did I do to make him not want to do that? Was there anything else I had done during the evening? Probably not. But maybe we should go back and look at it all again… and again… and again… because somewhere in there, we’ll figure out what we did wrong because there must have been something done that was wrong because…

And on and on and on and on.

Nothing big and loud. Nothing obvious and screaming. Just a slow, steady, quiet whisper, trying to lead me down a well-worn path created by my family and most of the men in my life - somewhere, somehow, some way, I had fucked things up and he would leave. I would say good-bye to him today at the end of our time together and I would never, ever see him again. Because I had fucked it up. I had done something wrong. But if I could figure it out before I left, I could maybe stop it.

At 2:45 AM, I wanted to just scream out “SHUT UP!” but I thought that the Filmmaker might find it a bit disturbing to have the woman who’s sleeping next to him screaming out to something that’s not there.

But in my head, I did scream. I demanded that the whispers stop. I figuratively put my fingers in my ears and refused to listen. And instead of getting stuck in the exploration of my faults, I took a deep breath and focused on what had really happened that evening.

He suggested I come over and stay the night so we could make an appointment we had in the early afternoon. I could have come over any time in the morning but he suggested coming over and staying the night. He wrapped me up in his arms when I got there. Cuddled up on the couch with me for a while as we talked about… nothing, really. His legs over mine, our fingers intertwined. Lovely dinner. His embracing me as we snuggled up later to watch Jon Stewart. The casual intimacy that has developed and become easy. And even at 2:45, I knew if I snuggled up to him, he would instinctively snuggle back.

I did nothing wrong. I did nothing to make him run away. I did nothing to warrant the ridiculous examination that was keeping me awake.

I did nothing wrong.

Wow.

How is that possible?

All my life, I’ve been wrong. About everything. About everyone. I’m always wrong, I will always do something stupid and drive him away. Because the other men I’ve lost my heart to have done exactly that - run away.

But now, I’m with someone who wants to be with me. Who wants me to be pushy and let him know I care. Who wants to be right there, thisclose, right beside me. And who doesn’t expect perfection. Who just enjoys being with me, no matter what.

And I did nothing wrong. Because there is no way to do something wrong. As long as I stay open and honest with him and trust I can talk to him, there will be no wrong.

And when he does leave (because I’m not convinced he won’t eventually), it won’t be because I did something wrong. And he won’t just disappear. He’s a grown-up and I know he’ll be honest and adult when/if he decides he’s done. And I hope he’ll always be in my life, no matter where this current version of us goes. He’s taught me so much already, I hope to learn more as we move through our lives.

And when I woke up, before him, for a change, I lay in bed, listening to him breathe, watching him sleep, and enjoying the internal silence that had fallen. The whispers tried to start up again but I just turned my focus back to the evening before and the feeling of his hand on my hip as we were curled up on the couch and the look in his eyes as he climbed into bed with me at the end of the night. The whispers faded because they realized there was nothing they could say.

I’m not saying I won’t have other nights where the whispers will be loud and proud. But finally understanding that the Screwtapes are hiding in the shadows left by the clowns, maybe it’s finally time for me to begin shutting down those sounds and letting go of the lessons I’ve been erroneously taught. I know it’s time for me to focus on the lessons I’m learning through the Filmmaker and embracing the fact that lessons don’t always have to be a bad thing. Lessons can teach me how to be stronger, to be better, to just live in the moment. To stop focusing on what was and what it was and how it was and just feeling and living and being in that second, that moment, and feeling the touch of someone who loves instead of touching the feeling left by someone who didn’t.