Containment

Day 12

He slept round last night after missing the bus. It was the expected, onesided (obviously coming from my side) tension that was expected... Until he put his arms around me during the night. It felt as though not a day had passed since we were together. No time in between. And it felt amazing. I could have clutched on to him for years.
But in the morning when I mentionned it he spoke of how guilty he felt, how he didn't want to discuss it and how we shouldn't have "done it." Here we go, Guilt eating away at me, because of course, he didn't really want to hold me. Even though he began sliding his arm under my waist and across my bony shoulderblades. Now he claims I asked him to, but I personally don't remember saying any such thing and if I did I was evidently half asleep. Whether I asked him to hold me or not, he had no obligation to and I am hurt that he made me feel ashamed of it as if I had forced him in to touching worthless, old me. He thought that she wasn't acting her normal self before we went to bed and while I typed my blog-aric confessions, he felt awful for having to stay round and despairing at what could have upset precious, little her. He was perfectly content to sleep in the same bed, facing away from me and not touching a pore against a pore of my body - until he straighton embraced me for around 6 blissful hours that is.
I wish that sleep could have lasted forever.

Today I saw my therapist. We talked about my childhood in order to find ways of escaping my continuous feelings of abandonment, rejection and self-hatred. She scribbled down a list of loss that I have experienced, putting down even the slightest things that had left my life, which I never considered could have affected my subconscious at all. The list was long. Then she wrote another list, also loss but loss of those who didn't reject me, or make me feel unlovable, just disappeared from the horizon. Unlovable. What a perfect way to illustrate, in one little word, what I seem to have been all my life, avec family, friends and of course the often hateful male species.
We talked about my mother's lack of containment, reciprocity and attunement, explaining what they all meant. For a hippy, she is very good at rationality. We talked about my earliest memories and I realised that even as a child, I was alone the majority of the time (independence, she said, is a hugely positive strength.) She read a few poems, humming them aloud with a melancholy tone. She wants to publish some in a newletter she helps with, to help other adolescents deal with shit. Because crudely, thats what it all is - shit.

As we focussed on the past, because it affects the present and future so greatly, we didn't speak so much about now. But I didn't feel the need to anyway, I would just repeat myself because Nothing has changed. He held my hands last night. He put his warm palms on my thighs. He told me I was beautiful. He wants to see me on Saturday.
But as we both agreed - Physical attraction isn't quite enough. And seemingly - she is.

It 23 minutes past midnight and I am exhausted. Short entry but for the first time in 12 days, I sort of feel a need to keep things in my head, just so they can feel like mine. I can't quite explain it. ...I saw a billboard outside a church today, saying All Your Mistakes - Erased by Christ. I admire those who have enough faith in their religion to trully and utterly believe their past can be made pure by an entity which isn't at all rational but all the same idyllic. I wish I was capable of that in times like these.

Goodnight, no one and nothing.
I love you so very stupidly.