"That well water better water me well"
It is my most natural response to always expect the worst.
Always.
Things never go as planned, something will inevitably go wrong, life is a constant uphill battle, and there's no point in hoping for the best when you're always searching for the next hidden iceberg that you'll no doubt crash into.
That is my life. A mess.
So when something actually works out, I'm confused and left to sit and ponder in my spare time as to what I did exactly for something to not fuck up for a change. What did I do to deserve this? Why isn't there a huge dramatic fight/argument/tug-of-war of some kind that I have to suffer through in order to get to the other side? How did I end up in a happy, positive relationship with a man who shows me in so many different ways that he truly cares for me?
Where is that motherfucking iceberg?
Needless to say, I'm waiting for it. Most of the battles I've had to fight through these past couple of months are my own, internal, personal battles that I've been working on mostly in counseling. It takes time to learn how to erase past experiences and learn how to accept a positive change. Yes, I deserve a good man who's ready and willing to be there for me. Yes, I am willing to do the same for him and continue to work on being a good person every day. Yes, we are in this together and I'll learn how to be part of twosome.
And while I understand all of that, and I'm beginning to get used to having a man around on a regular basis, I can't help but feel like I'm always standing with one foot outside the door ready to dart at the first sign of danger.
Like I said, my natural response is to expect the worst.
If anything terrible or devastating happens, it'll probably be from my own creation. I'm a pro at devising up horrible situations and letting them play out, and then suffering in the aftermath of my own destruction. I am the queen of self-sabotage, and wallowing in my own self-pity. The past proves my emotional cutting patterns, so what makes me think that this will end on any kind of happy note? I am a habitual creature, and these past three and a half months have been wonderful, but how long will that last?
It is a fear that sucks all the air out of my lungs on a daily basis.
I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm walking blindly in a happy land of Happy Goodness all the time, and I'm not preparing myself properly for the end. When will it end? When will he stop calling? When will I start drinking again? When will we lose our jobs, get sick of each other, let the resentment settle in, grow bitter, and tear each other apart? When will I stop caring? When will all of these happy memories stop happening and I have to cry until they all blur away?
I'm not used to this stability. I'm not used to planning for the long-term. I'm not used to this kind of adult relationship and things sailing along smoothly.
I'm used to the end, and strangely find that more comforting than a bed with a warm body cuddled next to me.