I’d expected his question to be more easily answered. After all, I had carte blanche to write and express anything I wanted about any concerns I might have over the new path we are to embark on. My head was full of ideas and things I wanted to say. Points I felt it prudent to make. You know… just to make sure – all in the name of being communicative and honest and aware.
I quickly had a crude list of items that I was going to elaborate on, and as I ran through it mentally I was quite content that it would be both as helpful and candid as he’d asked. I was even a little bit impressed with myself that I didn’t feel more guarded and defensive about having to dish up all these sensitive details just like that… without anything specific to lean them against.
I was going to tell him about how I worried about time constraints and staying on track. How we might drift off on a tangent, kind of like we did in conversation tonight. His studies make him more tangent-prone and I always am… so the notion that we might end up very far from where we started and intended to go with a topic seemed entirely plausible, and I didn’t feel comfortable with that. These are important things to talk about. I don’t want to get side-tracked.
I was also going to tell him how I was worried about going too fast, taking steps too big for us to cope with and risk it all falling apart. Or going too slowly, impaired by fear and misconstrued consideration. I was going to – again – remind him that it worried me that he might “cave in”. I’ve said it I don’t know how many times these past few weeks. He must be sick of hearing about it by now. Which also worries me. That I keep reiterating and repeating myself to the point where he cannot be patient with it anymore, simply because I think he hasn’t heard or understood me right and I want to make absolutely certain that I don’t make any promises I can’t keep.
The truth is, though, as I was going through all these thoughts in my head, wondering how to word them, I realised that they weren’t what I really wanted to say at all. In fact, they are just bad excuses. I can and have rationed each and every one of them beyond justified existence within me. Meaning, if this was a court of law… they wouldn’t even begin to hold up.
All these things that I was about to say that I worry about… time, energy, communication, understanding, pace and getting what I want and need… they’re all just part of the real underlying issue. They are valid as far as I consider them obstacles and potential pitfalls to deal with along the way. But the real problem is that… I desperately need to believe that I can and will feel that urge to submit to him again. I need to believe that I still have it in me. That I am still willing to open up myself to that extent and be vulnerable. To take the risk that I know this will be and trust that I won’t fuck it up by being ungrateful or selfish or somehow sabotage what he is trying to set up. And frankly, whatever issue I may have with what he comes to ask of me… I cannot reason myself out of the knowledge that I am and should be fully capable of asking for help or understanding if need be. Nor can I deny that rock-steady trust I have in him to be more than willing to listen and accommodate me if I do ask. Perhaps that in and of itself is part of the problem. I doubt whether he would ever give me a “no” or stand firm if I ask for a change on something. I am spoiled that way – both for thinking it and for knowing that it is the truth.
I can’t blame him for being cautious. Or daunted by what we are heading into. I would be too in his place. I do feel responsible for that in many ways.
I so want a chance to show him that I CAN handle this that I guess the urge to lower the bar and safeguard the bet is almost irresistible – even to the point where I almost allowed myself to hand him a list of things that would eliminate the worst challenges, so that I stand a better chance of succeeding. Is that my job? To tell him how he can go easier on me? I honestly don’t know anymore…
I guess the real issue here is simple. I feel a little lost and insecure about myself and my own abilities. My perception and understanding of failure and success in this, manifests through my impression of “how much I can take”. That is a crude way of putting it, I realise, and I don’t mean it quite so figuratively. The more careful he has to be to keep me safe and steady, the less I trust myself. The really stupid thing about that is that I am actually very good at this – the theory, the comprehension of dynamics and cause and effect on this matter – and as such am much more useful to him when I free myself of that yoke. It’s all about acceptance… isn’t it? Acceptance of pace. Acceptance of needs, limitations and skills. Acceptance of the time it takes.
Oddly enough, the one thing I do accept … is the risk. The risk that this might go wrong does not worry me. I trust him. I know him. He will be right there for me, as steady and loving as he possibly can be… even at great expense to himself. I have far more faith in him than I do in myself. I am not worried about getting hurt or angering him because I do something wrong. I am worried about not getting the chance to get it right and redeem myself, if I do.
