Zac did a great job on the kitchen last night. We have been cleaning all weekend because, one, the house desperately needed it, and two, we have guests coming tonight.
Zac is my boyfriend, if you can call him that. What I mean is that we are not married but we may as well be. He's more than a boyfriend. I'm afraid that I don't show my appreciation to him as much as I should. Everyone deserves a "great job, honey," and a "I am so proud of you" more often than not.
I grew up in a family where praise was few and far between. I was a classic overachiever apple polisher because I was so hungry for praise from my parents. They brag about me all the time now, but even though I still look for my own value in the eyes and thoughts of other people, It is still a struggle for me to give said praise.
We were not huggers or "I love you" everydayers. Well, not until I went off to the Marines. It shocked the hell out of me when Mom and Dad hugged, kissed me, and said, "I love you" all at once at the bus station when they were sending me off to Marine Combat Training. It blew my mind. Our house was a house of plentiful love and pride but expressing those things was hard to do. My parents were brought up in bottom line, work, study, or else homes. Their work ethic was put at the top of the list because if it wasn't the top priority, they starved.
I tend to get my priorities out of whack most of the time. I put school, work, and the condition of the house ahead of everything. Including Zac. That isn't fair and he does not deserve that. He deserves...more. I just have to reach in and pull more out of me and not be as frugal with my affection as I am with my money.
Despite all of the exercise and protein vs. carbs counting, finding new friends and a kick ass organization that is already proving to be a promising lifetime of camaraderie and loads of interesting fun, I'm getting a little depressed. I'm tired of school. I've been in school for 3 years straight with no breaks. I still have another two semesters left...if the GI Bill money holds out. The work I do with sewing and crochet is the same old stuff over and over again because its what pays. I'm itching to get my hands fully into the viking garb and crafts but the star wars community still has its hooks in me. I know, first world white girl problems.
Zac is suffering because I can't get my shit together. Its going to be on me to pull myself out of this. No one else can help me. I hate the notion of taking medicine. I have a hard time taking a Tylenol for a headache. However, I have been on a yo yo roller coaster ride of depression for the larger portion of 25 years. I remember having these same issues but in different contexts when I was a small child. I pushed the babysitter's kids away from art projects or building forts in the woods because I thought they weren't building it right and I thought the structural integrity was compromised or the picture we were painting wasn't good enough to put on their Mom's wall. Perhaps I should get myself on some mood stabilizers.
Ugh. Frack that noise. I've never been on those kinds of meds in my life and its just one more thing to keep me poor. I have it in me to be a better friend and partner. He deserves more from me and I need to make things right by him. He deserves to be raised up for his love for me, his devotion, his creativity, and his zest for life. I can learn a lot from him. I need to open my heart and mind to allow him to teach me.
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