My Life As A Tardis

Someone recently reminded me that it’s been almost a year since I've posted anything. I knew it had been a while, but a whole YEAR?? This only serves to demonstrate how lost in the vortex of time I can become.

I know everybody feels like time flies sometimes but this is crazy. I wish it was an example of how “time flies when you’re having fun”, but this expression does not tell the whole story does it? Because not only does time fly when you’re having fun, it also flies when you are supremely unhappy – when nothing happens in your life. Because how do you differentiate one day from the next, when nothing ever happens to break up the monotony? Time flies when you’re bored to death, but for some reason this rule never seems to apply when you are at work; hence, why I’m writing this entry from The Hellmouth.

I can’t say that this past year has been completely uneventful. Maybe that feeling is just an illusion, because while things change around me, I always seem to be stuck, standing still while the world rushes by. Circumstances change but I’m still the same fucked up depressed loner I've always been.

Since I last posted a year ago, there have been some big changes. The inevitable happened with married-but-separated-cute-musician-guy who moved in last April.

On May 5th I complained on here that I was becoming closer and closer to him and why can’t I just think of him as my new best friend?

It was about 2 weeks after that post that we became cautiously more than friends. Not wanting to fall into previously made mistakes, like co-dependency, we both steered clear of the L-word , and tried to carve out a space where we could exist as simply two people enjoying each other’s company. We were both terrified of losing ourselves in each other, of starting another long-ass voyage that ends in a fiery crash-and-burn-like scenario.

Despite our best attempts at keeping some emotional distance, things progressed into a whole relationship thing. But because his life was in upheaval, he had to move five hours away, and so not long after starting a new relationship, it turned into a long distance one.

This was both good and bad. The distance allowed me to continue to work on myself in ways that I find difficult when in relationships. (More on that in a future post). It also meant that I missed him. And it also left me at times feeling a little like this was a relationship of convenience; I became insecure about his feelings for me.

His visits became more frequent though, and he moved back to this city almost a month ago. I have mixed feelings about that too, but it will have to wait for another post.

My time here at the Hellmouth is coming to a close, for today. But, I will try and create some momentum and post again tomorrow. Until then, if the apocalypse comes, beep me.

Patterns

It's been two months since my last confession. Where does the time go?

When I made the decision to ease myself out of the V's life and into my own, I thought renting a room from my friend's mom would be a good way to move on without becoming too overwhelmed at the prospect. This was to be my safe place. A temporary safe place. But it's already been over 8 months since I moved in, and I still don't feel ready to leave. It's like this has become my new normal. This has become the new grave that I dug out myself, and willingly stepped into. Everyday, a little more earth is shovelled back where it belongs, and it's only a matter of time before I'm buried again.

I do this. I get "comfortable". I get stuck. I thought that by now I would be ready to move on, from this house, from this town, from this province. I thought I would have figured a few things out by now, and be well on my way to starting over. But I'm still here.

I went bankrupt. It's not something I'm proud of, but having finally addressed my financial situation did bring me some relief. It will still be hanging over my head for the next 8 months or more, as my creditors (the government and the banks) have that much time to object before I'm discharged.

I'm still working the same job at the printing establishment, as a proofreader. It's ridiculously mind-numbing and I don't know how much longer I can do this. My co-worker, who was there for over a year I think, quit about a month ago, and I couldn't help but take it personally. There was no warning (except the standard bitching about the job). But there was no actual heads up. She just didn't show up one day. And now she's moved on to another job (at a bankruptcy trustee's office no less) and left me behind. I am jealous at her ability to pick up and move on. When will it be my turn?

My living situation has changed somewhat in the last couple of weeks. When the woman I rent from let me know that a friend of her daughter's (a 34 year old man going through a divorce) will be renting another room from her, I felt dread. And fear. And when she asked how I felt about it, the closet thing to the truth I could say was "I'll adjust". Inside I was furious. And fearful. About my safe place being compromised. I could only think of the possibility of leaving, and that scared the shit out of me.

But he moved in anyway. And I felt an instant connection to him. We have a ridiculous amount of stuff in common, and his personality is compatible with mine. I was worried he would be like most people out there - the inconsiderate extroverts that bulldoze their way through life and through other people's lives. But he wasn't like that. He's a strange mixture of introvert and attention-seeker, who can talk endlessly but because he's so soft-spoken, I could never mind. He's so thoughtful, always taking into consideration how his actions might affect others.

As if the Universe wanted to be cruel, he's also terribly cute, and a musician. Who offered me guitar lessons. Which I've been wanting for how long now? And here he is, my own personal music teacher. Nicely put together. And sweet.

And still married.

With children.

I could feel myself becoming emotionally dependent on him right away. The logic part of my brain kept warning me about it. Don't get too close. Don't fall into another trap. One where you're dependent on another human being to feel safe. To feel anything. To feel...alive.

But it happened anyway. We've become inseparable. I find myself, night after night, hanging out with him in the common room, by the fireplace. Just talking. Or playing guitar. Or watching a movie. And I get stuck. Down here in the basement. I haven't been going to bed early enough, and it's showing. I've been so tired all week. On Thursday night, we didn't go to bed until about three in the morning. Only to have to work the next day.

But he's quickly turning into an addiction. And I'm worried. Worried that I'm the only one feeling this. Worried that I'm not the only one. Worried about how it will end.

And annoyed with myself that I can't just think of him as my new best friend.