Fraidy Cat

Apparently, if I tell the woman I love that I am afraid of her volatility and that I never know if I'm going to be the recipient of emotional, verbal, or physical abuse, it is the same as telling her that she is an abuser.

This seems to be true, because it is what I am told by Trey.

Because I used the word "abuse" to describe my fears, I have also defined the woman I love as an "abuser."

Is it too subtle to make a distinction between the activity and a label that defines a person? Is it too bizarre to share, which was my intent in the first place, my fear that volatile interactions will result in violence being directed at me?

I am afraid of the things I am afraid of--and they are not necessarily based in the actual behavior of the person I'm talking to. That's what fears are all about in the first place, right?

"I gave up so much to move here to be with you" is a phrase I've heard over the course of the past three years. When Trey drove here from Nova Scotia, she lost her country, her home, her family to live in a strange land with foreigners, including one foreigner she liked enough to leave it all behind for. So much depends on a red Saturn sedan, glazed in Richmond District fog, beside white bagged Christmas trees. Such a burden to shoulder her loss of nation and kin. I find I filter every word and glance through a script that trowels dark matter into ordinary ambiguity--and my result is always the same. I did her wrong by setting her in motion westward. And so when our conversations go sideways, the emotions are heightened by my responsibility for her frustrations and the escalation of her pain.

To think that the heat and spit and raw lust with which we began sparking in the dark corners of our graduate school lodges in the woods--secreted from community and from her common-law husband in Halifax, has unraveled so nearly is heartbreaking to me. I began this with so much hope, expectation, belief that I could do this right. That I would succeed in being lovable, worthy of being a husband, a father. A man. A powerful partner to a powerful partner.

With all the talking Trey down from taking up the mantle of "abuser" the conversation was steered completely away from what I was trying to express. Which was,

"I love you! I want to love and to be loved. I want a relationship with you based on ease, joy, and beauty. I want to use our time and energy being creative together--building family, making music, painting, laughing, sharing our lives with friends, gardening, and feeling good feelings."