Thursday, 06.27.2013 - 7:46 pm.
I'm coming to write here right now because it's only 7 pm (as I start the entry) and Andrew is already in bed. Before that, he made sandwiches when he came from work and we ate them in silence. Before that, hours earlier, he'd stormed out to work after lunch for a reason I don't know. I heard him cursing and punching things in the studio. He was playing his online game so at least in the beggining, I know he was cursing about that. I also know it because when he's mad at the game he restarts the wifi connection and he did it this time without telling me. And I was in the middle of a conversation with my friend Michelle (yes, I told him. It's not like he lives alone).
Yesterday he ate nothing but junk food, since it was a friend's birthday and he celebrated at the office in the morning, then we had something for lunch, then he ate some more in the afternoon, and at night at a bar, too, and he came home bloated and feeling sick. I comforted him, slightly amused.
Monday, nothing happened. But on the weekend he was pretty much on his own. I let him be, it marked the first month of his grandmother passing away and I figured he needed some space. He came and went, he was in and out of the house saturday and sunday, taking care of family stuff and house stuff, like grocery shopping and kerosene shopping for our heater, etc. He wasn't in a great mood.
He's been going to bed early. Not to sleep, he does stuff on his computer. Watches videos, catches up with work. But I was saying, I was coming to write this as he's in bed, because it came to my attention how neglected I've been feeling. And I think I should tell him but I don't know how. I mean, it's easy how, it just hasn't been easy for me to speak up.
I guess it's hard for me to gather the evidence. To present briefly and coherently. All I have right now is hurt and I feel like acting according to my gut, but if I did, I should be buying a one-way plane ticket home. I'm aware of how exaggerated that may be, but this is where I notice how Joseph fucked me up. Now at the slightest sign of discomfort I think it's best not to drag this relationship if it won't improve on the aspect that is causing me discomfort.
It could improve. It probably will and then it will come back to a state similar to the present one. It's a cycle. What is constant is my love for Andrew and my efforts to stay rational and at least try to speak up and say that this or that is bothering me. I could say it and see if things change.
I'm reminded of a dear friend of us, our cats' vet. She is clinically, chronically, severely depressed. I get to hear how her long-time boyfriend deals with it. It isn't pretty for everyone involved and even though I understand she's in pain over a number of things, I also empathize with him. Andrew is far from having a clinical anything but he is moody and a gamer, so that puts me at risk of feeling put aside more often than I'd be willing to bear.
I don't mind having time for myself. I treasure it. But also I dislike being put aside. The times we're together is to have breakfast, to watch something on TV while we have lunch and when we sleep. I really don't have any other suggestions about times to spend together because then he's at work and so I am. We could have time for sex, I guess. But my libido is stupidly low and his, occassional. The sad part is that I don't mind that so much. Today, precisely today, I remembered the first time Joseph gave me head: I cried like a little girl being violated. Which does raise a red flag.
Andrew's mom is clinically depressed, too. That doesn't go over my head. I remember it everytimee I see him so moody over small things. Also, the way he treats his mom makes me sad but I try to stay away from that relationship. And...I don't know why I bring this up. Out of spite, I guess.
What also made me sad was to think that I really have no one to talk about this with. No, not quite. I can think of people to talk about this but I feel ashamed of having these things to talk about. I wouldn't want to give the impression that I think that my relationship is perfect but also I think this issue would worry whomever I told. Because, well, it worries me. I just don't want advise. I'm not even sure I'd like to discuss this with any of my friends. I just thought, realized this feeling of loneliness and how remarkable it is that I feel ashamed to talk about feeling neglected.
I feel a little better spitting this out here. It doesn't solve anything (that's up to me, I suppose) but at least I feel lighter. Thank you.
Also, I commemorate Frog's birthday today (she passed away in 2008, at 12 years old). I know I talk a lot about Joseph still but whom I truly miss and vehemently wish I had back in my life is my dog.
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