Good morning world.
It’s almost a sunrise post — woke up because my body needed attention, and then I had to work on a few things before I could write this post — and it’s both strange and comforting to be back.
Normally I’d type into the untitled document I have on Google. But this doesn’t feel like something short, and this doesn’t feel like something I’d casually post on my socials, so I’m here, typing directly into my blog, hoping that this page doesn’t get refreshed and the words disappear into the ether because I do my thinking while I’m writing, unlike someone I know who has his thoughts practically fully-formed before his fingers even touch the keys (envious. and hi, because i know you’ll see this soon).
…
Alright, I might as well.
Hello to love
I’ve been, to my complete surprise, wooed.
(Whoo! XD)
If I take this as one of my diaries, and I do, then I’d like to happily, giddily, shyly update that there’s someone in my life. And not just a casual someone, a serious someone.
Well, he’s serious and silly and smart and sweet and I get to look into his eyes and feel the universe spin inside.
(I’m tempted to write knowing that he’ll read this, but that stops me from letting the words go. So I’ll ignore the fact that you’re reading, my love, and see what happens next.)
and all the bubbles rise
I feel a combination of “oh my goddess how do i even deserve him?” and “i absolutely deserve him”, kind of like how Clara was looking at the Doctor with her upset eyes, saying “I don’t deserve a friend like you”, and he said “Clara, I’m terribly sorry, I’m exactly what you deserve.”
Is it too much to believe that I could be good?
And yet somehow, inside me somewhere, I do believe I am that good. A tiny spark of golden light surrounded by the dark.
It’s the part of me that believes in love and that people are good and that kindness can fix everything.
And I guess I’ve grown because I see — somehow mirrored in him — the part of me that knows what happens when there is fear and anger and pain.
There is strength in seeing what the world can be and yet still choosing to be kind.
Ah.
I’ve forgotten I am an ocean.
I’m not just one thing — I am everything combined.
I both deserve and do not deserve him. I see myself in who he is, and yet we are not the same.
We are two individual people, and hopefully, we’re better when we’re together.
with the waves crashing.
I gave him trouble. So much of it. He came with banners raised and cavalry choir singing and declared his intentions to be serious.
And I?
I ran.
I took one look and I panicked. (I am quite ashamed.)
‘Tis one thing for a maiden to cast a casual eye and give favours to village boys pretending to be knights and casanovas.
‘Tis very much another thing when the same lady returns to the castle to find an actual suitor on a quest to win her hand.
I could play the little games. I could fall in love and fancy myself in a relationship. But a real one — with status and marriage as a consequence?
I shivered and froze and threw little tantrums.
I can only see, now, that I didn’t want to grow up.
I didn’t want to face what’s real. A relationship takes growth and understanding and acceptance and compromise. The realisation that you might be wrong, that you could cause hurt, that now who you are and what you do matter (all the more) because someone else has come along for the ride and you are now each other’s shared responsibilities.
It’s like when I was reading/listening to A Discovery of Witches and Diana felt the weight of Matthew’s responsibilities shifting and settling onto her shoulders as well.
I haven’t taken on his responsibilities — he hasn’t asked that of me — but I do understand that marriage or partnership or just choosing to be together requires a blend of vision / goals / direction.
(And he has chosen to care for me.)
It used to not matter if I were frivolous and free and, honestly, poor. Because my life was mine and I knew my parents would be alright. I would have no kids, and I would harm no one (but myself, but that was fine because I chose it, the life I was living).
Being with someone means the building must begin, if it hasn’t already.
Here’s a detour, a boat ride.
I met some of his friends.
It was unexpected, as we crossed paths in a café, and I tried to keep a lid on my panic. Somehow, in my mind, I’d gotten the idea that I have to impress them, because I don’t want them to turn to him and say, “Her? Really? Wh — are.. you sure?”
But we sat down, and after a meow from me (yes, I actually meowed), the conversation flowed…
Love Actually, The Holiday, Cameron Diaz, Charlie’s Angels (the remakes and the original), Naomi Scott, Aladdin, bad acting, representation, SNL…
And I realised I was joining in.
I knew what we were talking about. I could pull memories, I knew the references, I could squee, I had my own opinions.
They were my people.
Or perhaps, I was one of them.
And I remembered how my guy and I were talking, and I mentioned Good Omens, and he connected it to Neil Gaiman and to American Gods. (And then he got us the books, and we went on a book date — squeee!)
And I remembered thinking about how everything I had read about relationships were coming up now that he’s appeared…
Someone once defined success as when preparation meets opportunity.
The idea was that a person would practise, probably for 10,000 hours or more, if they were professional, to succeed when they needed to, or were given that opportunity.
So a basketballer would practise their 3-point shots, so that they would be able to do it in a game.
A violinist would practise a score, so they they would be able to perform at a concert.
And a fighter would practise a punch, so that they’d be able to knock out their opponent in the ring.
Simplified, I know.
But here’s the thing.
I wasn’t practising.
I didn’t watch the original Charlie’s Angels thinking that one day this might come up in a conversation.
I didn’t read Good Omens so I could recommend it, and have it become a point of connection.
I didn’t absorb everything I could on relationships because I had my heart on getting into one — in fact, I’d given up on relationships completely.
I did it simply because I liked what I was doing.
It’s the same way I didn’t read books because I wanted to write. I just read. And I just write.
It’s just who I am.
We wouldn’t do what we do unless it’s already a part of who we are.
I’ve been used to the idea that I would only be able to squee about the things I loved online. That I’d just connect with the unknown masses who also loved the same things I did. Behind usernames and gifs and tumblr posts.
I’ve been used to the idea that I’d write my words into the air and send them out into space.
I watched and read and loved what I did because I did.
I wasn’t preparing.
I didn’t expect anything.
I don’t think success happens when preparation meets opportunity.
Success happens when who you are matches the chance you’ve got.
Coming ashore.
So now the work of building begins.
For him, he’s already been building. The only reason he’s been able to spoil me with food and dates and gifts — and how he flew up to meet me and took a holiday at a moment’s notice — is because he’s been building, before I even came around.
I never planned to have a future, so I never turned my eyes to see where I stood on the ground.
Now “suddenlyyy… life has new meaninggg.. to meeeee…”
Now the part of me that wants to stay the way I am, without care and without responsibility, is struggling with the part of me that wants to care, and wants to take on that responsibility.
Because I don’t want to harm him, because I want to help him, because I want something for us, and because bloody hell my love (i’m talking to me), it’s time for me/you/us to grow the hell up.
Sigh.
Because, my love (i’m still talking to me), you do have dreams, and you do have desires.
You think you don’t, because it’s easier to convince yourself that you have none, than to face the big, scary land that you do, and that it takes hard work, hard thinking, and a whole lot of mistakes, and that you might need to judge yourself and find that you fall short.
And you hate how falling short makes you feel.
I know it’s nicer to feel confident and sure and convinced that you can do anything, but babygirl, that feeling comes, for real, when you have gone out and tested yourself against things, and you realise that you can do it, and that you can fall short, and then you can grow up to it.
And sometimes, as Neil wrote, getting up the mountain is easier than you think.
There are lots of hills to die on, my love. This isn’t one that’s worth it.
Protecting the belief that you’re not worth it — isn’t worth it.
You’re not doing anyone any favours by showing up small, or not showing up at all.
(And what would Goddess say, hm??)
Hm.
I love you. (sleepy. going back to bed.)
Let’s figure out the lay of the land and the map of where you want to get when you wake, okay?
💖
