It’s next to impossible to explain how I feel right now. Mike pulled a Meet the Parents tonight, as the entire family got together for dinner, and Mike was a part of it.

I was nauseous. I haven’t brought home a “guy” in 14 years. My brain was screaming, “Please like him! Please like them!” so loudly it was hard to concentrate. I hate to even think of why this is so important to me. Dredges up memories of old, unhealthy patterns.

*sigh*

It seemed to go well. Dad invited Michael back, and told him to bring his little boy next time. (My jaw dropped.)

I think part of the problem is that I feel like I’m 16, 30, and 55. There’s no middle ground. I’m a giggling teenager when I’m just around Mike, but an old adult when I’m a mom, and then combine the two and it’s enough to cause a mild case of split personality.

I’m just so aggravated that nothing will swing back into a predictable order. I find comfort in knowledge. Even if it’s not fun, at least I know exactly what’s going on. Such as, at my old job, I knew every day was going to suck, but at least I knew that every day at 8am the sucking started, and at 5pm it ended. It was predictable, a sure thing.

I wonder if I should be doing this at all. For the first time in my life I see how high the stakes are. I see how easily I get hurt, and that I really don’t need to lose more time to a broken heart. I see that I’m not 18 anymore, and neither is Mike, and we both have huge responsibilities to ourselves and others.

Is there really any way to make lives mesh temporarily at this age?

Wiggage is what this is called, I think. An overwhelming desire to walk away from it all, call it a night. Take a break to catch my breath and determine if I am doing the right thing.

I think a trip to a beach by myself is well overdue. I need some time to breathe.

I’m tired of being devastated. I’m tired of being hurt. And I know the whole risk-reward scenario, but man! Does it need to be like this?

We semi-snoozed on the sofa last night, watching a Daria marathon. I just lay there watching him, wishing my heart would beat normally and that I could consider this in a normal, logical way.

I announced to him in no uncertain terms that I want another baby, sometime, and he said he knows. He also said not to get ahead of myself. Okay, what? Where is my solid footing? That’s all I want to know. Where are we going?

The fact that it’s “too early” for all this drives me nuts.

I wonder how long I can live being this uncomfortable?

Tired,

michelle