Pecan Pie

Social Anxiety from the South

Posts Tagged ‘Love

They Tried to Make Me Go to Rehab and I Said: We Found Love in a Hopeless Place

leave a comment »

I didn’t even notice her the first day. She was in the bed and I was…well, terrified.

On the second day I saw her. I was smoking, still feeling really isolated. Trying to figure out my place amongst non-peers 15 years younger than me with no fucking clue the opportunity they were passing up. I know, because you couldn’t tell me shit as a 22 year old tweaker.

Black beanie. High-tops. Hoodie.

Smoking PallfuckingMalls.

(Oh, I wrote down words about it, but this one is from my memory.)

Swagger underneath a heavy cloak of insecurity. Chiseled cheekbones and clear hazel eyes. Really, they aren’t always hazel and I couldn’t even see them in that moment anyway.

In detox with me. The only other queer woman so far as I could tell, not that it would have mattered because I picked her.

I.Picked.Her.

In any other normal scenario I’d have been sidled up next to her at a bar, or making obnoxious googly eyes at this bad bitch hidden by the drums.

*look at me! look at me!*

I settled for an out of tune piece of shit guitar.

I don’t even know. I just knew she was the only person I had any interest in spending time with in that place. To find out that those feelings were reciprocated was the greatest gift I could have ever received there, besides the strength to stay sober. She was (and is) part of that strength.

When she has a moment of happiness, her face is the pure, innocent and unabashed joy of a child. Like wonder and excitement and newness all come together. She sparkles.

Of all the times I’ve ever wished someone could see themselves through my eyes, this is the most profound.

I found love and trust and companionship in one of the most hopeless places I’ve ever been in and it was one of the most ebullient experiences of my life.

Written by thelittlepecan

April 30, 2017 at 10:57 pm

A Belated Valentine

Last weekend, the weekend before Valentine’s Day, Jim and I took the kids to the park.

Last weekend, my patience, of which I seem to have very little lately, ran out.

And so, last weekend, on Sunday, I lost control of my temper and effectively ruined a day that may have been salvaged-if only in my head-had I been able to keep my cool.

I am not a patient person and when it comes to children, I often wonder why I was allowed to have one.  I care for little people very, very much, but being the primary care-giver to more than one is a daunting task and sometimes, even when I am not the primary care-giver I freak out in a way that is abhorrent to my uber-liberal wanna be crunch factory sensibilities.  I don’t spank my kid, but I yell a lot and well, when kids whine, it’s like nails on a chalkboard play Beethoven because that’s what I’d rather listen to than their squeaky unappreciative little bitch fests.

In my life, I have dated guys that wished they could figure me out.  The smart ones called my mother to beg for advice when my anxiety reached it’s boiling point and they couldn’t do anything but avoid the explosion.  The dumb ones exploded too,  or left.  Mostly they left.

And so, I have multiple reasons to fear abandonment (thank you Freud, Bob I hate psychoanalysis) and when the shit hits the fan I tend to freak out more, like, maybe, when I’m asked to leave because I have flipped out, I dip into the Seventh Circle of hell and make things infinitely worse.  And I have to leave anyway.

Sunday was bad.  Monday was worse.  I hate the feeling of eggshell walking around my best friend.

On Tuesday, my best friend was deciding on a Valentine’s Day gift that generally represents a different type of relationship than we have.  He chose a medium that represents the kind of relationship we do have and by doing so reminded me that my friend, who happens to also be my Valentine, is committed to our relationship just how it works for us.

During that day, on Tuesday, while he was doing this, I was worrying about the fate of our relationship and wondering if I had done the irreparable.

On Saturday, I got reassurance.  Like the best kind of sparkly reassurance evar.

I hope this doesn’t like, embarrass him or anything.  I just want it to be known that I get it when I’m wrong and I get it when I’m wrong not to trust the right thing and wind up listening to my inner Golem instead.

Those of you who hate teh squish, get over it for this one.

ETA: For those asking, no it was not a ring, which is sort of the point.  It looks like this and goes on my Pandora bracelet.



Written by thelittlepecan

February 15, 2011 at 9:49 pm