No one said it would be easy...

Relationships are tricky. Everyone says it. Everyone knows it. Yet, as humans, we strive to find that mate, our other half. We sometimes seem to be on an endless masochistic quest for an ideal we were sold. Some of us get lucky. This is certain. Yet many of us still wander if what we have found is right or even if we will ever find someone.  This is my wheelhouse.

 I fully believe that a good partner is one with whom you grow. A bad partner stifles your progress. My dilemma stems from the notion that my lover is both to me. He is my albatross and my spring of inspiration.

 My boyfriend of three point five years-no eternity for certain-is a lost boy, a starving artist, a dreamer. With three kids in tow he brings with him baggage the likes of which I have never dealt. Mommy issues. Woman issues. Peter Pan issues. Napoleon issues. I am not judging. I certainly wouldn't want someone to think I don't come with a fresh bag of crazy. I am chock full to the brim and OMing my way through it the best I know how. However, this man that I date, love, share, avoid, and sleep with, is a tough nut to crack, and it leaves me to wonder how can two people so screwed up make it work? The idea is so crazy is just might.

 I know that life isn't easy. I know that all our lives we suffer, and holding on to notions of how things should be only causes us to suffer more.  I struggle with that, as I make a life with J.  I know he struggles too.  We are drawn to each other and yet question the validity of our relationship.  And it's not bad, or abusive, it's just hard.  Money.  Laundry.  Sloth.  The amount of stuff that fills our tiny home.  We try hard fighting an uphill battle with time and opportunity.

We talk, try to.  At times he can be very stubborn and quick to defend.  He is set in his ways of living in the past and the future and not making enough time for the present.  I can get reclusive and I am not always open with my feelings so as not to hurt people, so I pretend a lot.  Even with the person I should be the most intimate and honest with, myself.  And then I erupt in a volcano of molten lava stress and anxiety spewing crazy and impatience all over everyone around me.  And still we try.

Each of us are trying to figure out ourselves and life out and grow up and with that comes the pangs of maturity and the deadly blows to youth and irresponsibility.  I don't know where things are going to end up.  If we will make it is uncertain.  Maybe we deserve each other.  Maybe we are the greatest love story ever told.  I'd like to stick it out, still...always.  I don't mind the hard work and the masochist in me just won't let go yet.