Oh, my dear, sweet, Gentle Readers, life is different for me know. I’m slowly moving out into the middle of nowhere with the man I love. I feel different. So many things around me are different. I am happy.
The Viking and I are setting up my office. It is also my bed room. Yes, I know normal couples sleep together every night, but I go to bed between 4 and 6 am. Also, sleeping is serious business. It will also double as a guest room. He and I do things our way. Mostly, though, he is a magnificent human being and wants me to feel loved and like I’m home. Anyway, he came home with the “guest” bed. These are my sheets.
We haven’t painted it yet, but I want three walls to be the color of the ocean from his pictures of vacation. Being on the water with him felt like the beginning of endless opportunities for adventure for us. Also, one night we were on deck, and we looked into the true dark of the ocean and world beyond the bright lights of the ship, and an intense, primal fear and loneliness washed in. Without realizing it, I reached out for his hand and held it, and the deep dark didn’t seem as scary.
Mostly, though, the changes in my life seem to be in me. My father was in the hospital before I left on our trip. For the first time in many years, I chose me. My parents wanted me to go, but before that moment, no matter their insistence, I would have stayed. I’m not saying I’m some super good person, we all know that isn’t true, but I am co-dependent as hell and afraid of being a disappointment. I live with the specters of being called selfish or self centered in my childhood and teenage years. Then, that night in New Orleans walking around by myself having my own adventure and realizing I have to be the one who decides my life. I chose to have the Viking beside me. I chose to compromise for both of our happiness. But, I am only any good for him ore anyone else in my life if I am an advocate for me.
I’m happy, and I’m content. I love when I’m in the Viking home I get to wake up and work to build our lives. I’m working for me and for us. My life finally gets to be about things that are important to me. A long(ish) while back, Tina told me I had to stop saying I was living in my parents house helping them out while I worked on my writing. She told me it was a lie that I had to stop telling myself. That bit of truth nearly ended me. It felt like a failure, and I felt like a failure. In reality, I was helping my family through a rough time. I lost who I was there for a little bit. I feel myself coming back now though. I feel me slowly re-emerging in the Viking home.
I hope it doesn’t sound like I think my parents are anything but wonderful, because they are. I also would never go back and change anything. They would do anything for me, and love me with all of their hearts. They also gave me love and safety when I needed it most. They gave me a place to figure out who I was and a chance to know them. I just never could make myself a priority here. Here I am Selina, doer of things, caretaker extraordinaire, handler of shit. That is fine. it is who I needed to be then, but it doesn’t lend well to writing.
You have to be able to be selfish for writing. You have to be able to say no to things. You have to be able set your own best schedule, or at least have some control over some chunks of your time (like having free time after work). I couldn’t do that. Between doctor visits, errands, care taking, and snide comments about my hours, I haven’t been able to go to sleep at 5 am and sleep until 2pm in years. I was always on call to bandage, medicate, feed or handle some minor emergency.
At the Viking house, I wake up everyday and I want to get stuff done. I desire to be productive. It isn’t a thing expected or required of me; I’m excited to start projects, and I take pride in the things I do. For my birthday, the Viking is getting me soap making supplies. I can’t wait. I might even have Geek Goddess soap for sale. Who knows! I dream about my characters.
I’m losing weight. I’m not having to do big deal, life changing, decisions. I drink far more water because it makes me feel better. I eat better because I feel better when I do. Sometimes I eat really unhealthy, and I don’t feel guilt. I move more because my body feels better if I do. I’m also not always a bundle of stressed all the way the fuck out. It helps.
I think I’m going to having dance breaks through out my day at the Viking home. I love dancing. I dance much like I imagine a drunk toddler would, but it makes me happy. Instead of telling myself I have to do this exercise DVD or ride a stationary bike for so long, I’m going to scour the interwebs for dance tutorials and dance until I’m tired. A few hours later, I’ll do it again. I might not even keep track of how long I do it for. I will just celebrate when I can dance more and for longer periods of time then when I started.
I think I like that attitude for pretty much everything in my life, instead of focusing of what is wrong or bad, celebrating what I am doing and what is good.