Lately I've been reminded more than once that my weaknesses are showing a seam. Tears pour out with astounding ease and I tend to feel lonely and hopeless more often than I should. Sounds like a depression. Might be one. But the truth is that this particular set of circumstances, the combination of settings in my emotional life, my work life and my reaction to both is very new to me.
The simple fact that at last I am learning how to segregate my personal life from my work is a feat unprecedented. I usually not only found myself feeling at home in my workplace by 3 months into my position. I also used to find myself in the very awkward situation of having an affair with a coworker by that time. A sickly habit, I know. But it was a tendency that somehow made my workdays exciting.
I don't want that anymore, and it hasn't been difficult to keep myself from that, for a number of reasons. First, I am deeply in love, happily, even if my other half sadly keeps doubting it. This is a relationship I want for keeps (whatever that means). This is one person I see myself making a life with, and he knows it, although I don't know if I have made myself entirely clear. Sometimes I think I might not have.
For the other part, my workplace is entirely professional in the sense that even if we make jokes and kid around a bit, there's always this fine line between what we are in the job and what we become after punch-out time. All around me, and myself included, cherish that separation. It keeps us sane, I guess.
And then there's me looking out for myself. Maybe I finally learned that the workplace is no place to be fooling around. I guess the experience with
H. proved that and drove it home deeper than I thought at first. I am glad this happenned. It does prove to keep you saner.
But still, problems bubble closer to the surface. Not with the workplace, although there are days in which I passionately hate my job (more the office than anything else), but in my personal life. Those evident weaknesses, my underbelly exposed. Or not?
I don't know about everyone else, but when I fall in love I happen to become vulnerable to the person I fall in love with. It's part of the trust I place in that person. You trust and you become vulnerable to whatever failure of that trust happens. And even if no failure happens, you become exposed to the person you love. I think it's part of human nature, or at least part of
my own nature. No matter how much you get hurt, once you cross the line between just plain dating/liking/flirting with a person and
loving, all the outer shell you've built around yourself crumbles. It's a delicate situation, yes. But inevitable.
Does this make one weak? I wouldn't think so. It takes strength to let go again after a long time without loving truthfully, after a time when you don't really get involved, no matter if you've gotten your brains banged out, you still sit up after that and look at the person beside you and are able to say without quiver or fear in your voice "You regret this, don't you?" and even if you get a resounding "Yes!" you don't regret it yourself ... I know I already learned what sex without love is, what craving after a person that doesn't like you does to you, how loving someone who prefers you as a plaything changes you forever ... I know where my strength lies. But where the heart is concerned I'd rather leave that acid and cynical side out. Loving doesn't kill my tough spots, it just covers them, I guess.
But being told... once and again ... it starts rubbing the underbelly into a tough spot itself. I don't want that. I don't wanna become this big tough callused person. I guess this is where the real strength has to step in and confront whatever I don't believe true about myself.
I am not any weaker. I am just more vulnerable and exposed to those who have obtained my trust. And if a failure to that trust has just made a tiny cut into my underbelly, expect some blood to come out. It's logical, isn't it?
