Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul.

I fell in love eight months ago. Thanks to the fabulous interwebs, I met a man who not only seemed like he might be a nice guy and with whom I shared several interests, but he didn’t live on the other side of the country or already have a girlfriend. These were good indicators that we might just get along pretty well. After dating for a month or two, I blurted out “when am I going to find out you’re a serial ax murderer or something, because this is all too good?” He seemed bemused by the question, and turned me on to watching Dexter. So far I’ve managed to ignore the parallels of my life with Rita’s (no-good ex-husband, two kids, blonde) and decided that he’s simply a guy who likes quality entertainment, not someone sending me a message about his secret double life.

For the most part our relationship has been pretty wonderful. On occasion I lapse into PTSD-induced moments of poor judgement, and there are days when I don’t function as well as a “normal” person might. My mother, ex-husband and a few friends were/are bipolar, so I know it’s not easy being around people who suddenly do a 180 and become… emotionally difficult. In the case of my mother, she took steps to deal with her situation and become a more balanced person. I respect her for that. In the case of my ex-husband, he’s part of the reason I’m dealing with PTSD to begin with. Add to that losing both parents and a brother in one year, and it’s a pile-up of trauma that I didn’t want to deal with, but that’s life.

Last week I went through a particularly nasty episode. Even I don’t know exactly what started it, but there it was, and over the next few days I managed to do everything I could to damage my relationship with a man who has been nothing but good to me. I took careful aim at his vulnerabilities and kicked hard, not even consciously aware that I was doing so. The bad news is that I wounded someone I care about very deeply, and worried several friends and my kids in the process (being asked “are we going to have to move again?” was an indication that the kids were sufficiently freaked out). The good news is that I think some personal growth and mutual understanding came out of it. There’s got to be some good, right? Because if you’re going to be tested, you might as well learn the lesson that goes along with it.

Once I knew the psycho in my head had moved on and I could see life clearly again, I took a look at the mess I’d made and wondered how to clean it up. Little things at first, like making sure meals got made and dishes got washed, got me back on track. I thank a small, private online community I’m part of for getting me through the worst of it. Their support and encouragement to think things through got me back on track and able to move on.

Even through the worst of it, what was glaringly true to me was that I didn’t ever want to leave Thomas. No matter how angry I was with him, with me, with the world, all I truly knew was that if he loved me enough not to kick me out of the house, then he certainly deserved better than I was giving him.

A year ago I believed I was incapable of ever being so loved, that I was undeserving of love. I was grieving the loss of so much of my life in a short time, and knew from experience that relationships (for me) generally sucked all the hope and strength out of me. Some of my exes are wonderful people and I’m still friends with them, but there have been a few people in my life who should have known better than to behave as they did. We may all be broken people, but we can live and learn from our mistakes. If we don’t, we just keep making the same mistakes until we get it, tearing up everything around us in the process.

So imagine me, an emotionally bruised person, walking into Thomas’ classroom yesterday to see twenty little faces look my way. There he stood in the middle of the crowd of children, positively glowing and in his element. I wanted to melt into the wall and watch them for a few hours, to see how they would all interact and respond to each other, but as it was I distracted everyone far too much. He introduced me to the class, and when one child piped up “Did you know you have the best teacher in our school for a boyfriend?” I had to agree. “Is she really your girlfriend?” asked another, then “When are you two going to get married?”

“When the time is right,” Thomas replied, then laughingly congratulated himself for having dodged that question.

I’d like to think that means he hasn’t totally given up on me.