#but if it stops the whole 'they thought it might be sepsis' thing then i'll take it

[dykethang]

everyone in this hospital thinks i am insane for leaving my curtains open at night but like. why wouldn't i. i'm 2 stories up looking over the park and a nice road. i can carwatch. why Wouldn't I

[deusphoenix]

storyTIME

Ok my delightful heathens it is time for a story. Or a continuation. Or something.

I am 26. I have, on multiple occasions, literally drug myself by my bootstraps through goddamn bitches of unsatisfactory situations.

I have left myself out there, been used as an emotional chew toy, spat out and left for dead.

Let's recap for a moment: as a combat medic, I'm supposed to keep my EMS skills sharp. So I work at an ER that, at age 21, ages me like warm milk. The mental stress, the suicidal ideation, the sheer magnitude of everything I was exposed to *Sucked™*. I was also engaged to a gal who would have crumpled like tissue paper had I shared a sliver of the experiences I had on a nightly basis. I wasn't bringing that shit home to her.

So I bottled it up, shut her out, and burned a perfectly good relationship to the ground (or so I thought - as it turns out, she had been sleeping around on me while I worked nights).

In the ruin of a failed relationship and a diamissal from the ER I worked at, I withdrew to the family farm and lived alone for about 3 months. That saved my life, literally. I found myself, again.

But some wounds take time to heal. My ex had effectively taken a steaming shit on my heart, and I had sepsis of the soul. I, for the last 5 years, have been gun-shy as fuck when it comes to letting people in. Can you blame me?

Then I met Heidi.

We played cards for 20 minutes at a business conference geared toward leadership development, and I didn't talk to her for a year.

About a month ago, on a lark, I asked a mutual friend if she was still around and if I could have her name (honestly knew her as "that girl whose hand I accidentally cut while playing cards")

We messaged back and forth for a week or so before I asked her out for dinner.

Please, at this point, avoid subtext. It may have been five years, but there were several girls and guys that I had fooled around with. I was not in this for a physical relationship, I was simply going out to dinner with someone I wanted to get to know.

We chose a neutral outdoor restaurant in a town neither of us lived in. Dinner was unremarkable but the conversation was deep; we're not talking about "how's the weather" or "going to school", we were relating similar stories and experiences, and each of us was ~listening~ to the other. Phones weren't seen once. People stared.

Ice cream was eaten elsewhere.

Then a hike around a lake.

We didn't stop talking for 5 solid hours.

The second date was, well, different. I helped rake, seed, and spread peat moss on her yard. We had burgers at a local corner bar/cafe. Real small town America. Things didn't feel forced; everything felt comfortable.

We went to a movie on the third date. Imagine the classic "yawn-stretch arm" ploy; that was me. She leaned her head against my chest and I swear I felt my heart stop.

For someone who has been advertised as "emotionally distant", "cold", and "generally fucked up", my heart doesn't move much.

For her, it skipped a beat.

I felt like a 6-year-old at Christmas for the rest of the evening.

We've had long, very open talks about our concerns on distance, driving, family, exes, emotional baggage, individual fears, and a whole host of other stuff. She's admitted that she is scared that her opinions will make me mad, just as I've told her I am viscerally terrified to screw this relationship up.

We're moving slow. I wish I could have told myself at 18 the value of moving slow, learning who this person is and how you'll both deal with stress and fear. I wish that I'd had the common sense to have slowed down at 18, but shit sometimes needs to be learned the hard way. Builds character and experience, although the loss sticks around for a long time.

I know I'll screw up. I know she might make me mad. I've learned the previous value of sitting down and discussing a problem, not as "me versus you" but "US versus the problem".

I love the real talk, the real fears, the openness of our conversations.

I'd forgotten how it felt to have another person value your comments to and ideas. I'd forgotten how good it feels to validate another person.

It's a process. A slow, steady process.

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