There comes a point in every “new” relationship, I think, where romance leads the way into real life. I think we have reached that point – Bear and I. Why do I say that? Shall I make a list?
We haven’t had sex in like, 4 days. We’re arguing a lot. Petty arguing. Nothing relationship-shattering though, don’t worry. I found a steaming turd in the toilet this morning. I pick up socks and dirty pants on a daily basis. He naps all the time. I can’t remember the last time I put makeup on. “Oh, fuck off!” has become an almost hourly-phrase in our house, and buying school uniform and Xbox games has now become more important than buying myself shoes. I know, I can barely believe I’m saying that. But I think something has happened. I think we’ve gone from dating to “in a relationship”. I should hope so after we’ve moved in together and all, but you know what I mean. Prancing around in teeny-tiny pants is becoming increasingly difficult when you have a teenager on your hands all of a sudden, and the Easter holidays are in full force.
There were so many things I did not take into account when I moved into this house. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not regretting my decision for a moment, but my life has changed a little. Not a lot, but a little. Morphed, if you will. I’ve morphed into somewhat of a parent.
Maybe that’s why the “honeymoon” stage of our relationship seems to have passed so quickly. Although, maybe it isn’t so quick at all? BE and I burst into love, and out of it, in less time than Bear and I have been together.
How long is the “honeymoon” stage meant to last anyway?
Speaking of BE, he popped up again in true parasitic fashion. We just ignored it this time. I’d gone through some old photos of stuff I had on an SD card and edited a few of them, artistically, to use as website promotion for another project. One of the photos had like, a snippet of his living room skirting board in the background, and he ‘liked’ the image. I blocked him to prevent any future communication (yep, he’s moved on from stalking my own personal social media accounts to my business ones now), and later on that night, I received an email. Again, we just ignored it.
Anyway, parasite discussed and nicely out the way, let’s go back to this parent business. I knew I would be moving in with a teenage boy, but I didn’t realise how fast they would grow. Or how many new clothes and shoes they’d need. And trainers. And Xbox games / subscriptions / packages / maps. And new phones. He’s lost like three iPhones in the time I’ve known him. Or how bloody moody he would be. Because trust me on this, he is bloody moody! (And they say girls are bad!) I also didn’t realise how much the two boys (as I call them) would eat. Bear eats all the time. I don’t understand how he’s not a million times fatter than he is! His son either eats all the time, or not at all, and his eating habits are a constant source of concern. And the laundry …. Don’t even get me started on the laundry. Or the mess. Or the smell!
The son is also a grumpy little bastard, but he definitely takes after his dad in that department, and while we’re on that particular little subject … Bear’s schizophrenia is definitely starting to show signs every now and again, I think. He ‘changes’ sometimes, and today is a prime example of that. He wasn’t in bed when I woke up but we’ve been having a someone’s-stealing-our-mail situation, so I put that down to him hopping out of bed to catch the postman. It was apparent that wasn’t the case when he brought me in a cup of tea though, with a face like thunder and a series of grunts to match. That’s all I got out of him all morning – grunts and grumbles. Today is clearly not a good day.
We have bad days sometimes – both of us. It’s actually very scary how similar we are – the ups are very up, and the downs are very down. We both have days where we seem to be shrouded by this dark cloud of doom and gloom. I guess my mental health still suffers from time to time too, despite how much I refuse to accept it, but I’m starting to see the pattern in Bear’s too. His dark days come out of nowhere sometimes, or so it seems to me. I think he keeps problems to himself. Certain problems, at least, and that doesn’t help because I then don’t know what’s behind his dark exterior. There’s something wrong today, but although I don’t know what it is yet, it will come out. He has a busy day of clients, so I’ll just bite my tongue until tonight when we can have a proper conversation about it. I’m starting to understand him a little better, and although he can be a really mean piece of shit when he’s in a dark mood, my further understanding of him just makes me love him more and more. None of what’s happened – what we’re going through – has made me want to leave at all. I still don’t regret my decision to move in. I still don’t regret my decision to give the “schizophrenic” a chance. In fact, I think I’m learning a lot from him. I’m definitely learning how godamn bratty I can be. I’m seriously trying to work on that.
It’s not perfect. We’re not perfect. But together, we’re figuring it out. The money worries, the crazy exes, Bear’s Son’s Mother (did you get that?) … I don’t even know if I can be bothered to open that can of worms. What I will say is that I feel very conflicted over her. She’s the mother of Bear’s son. She’s a mother. HIS mother. I am not. My position in her son’s life … well, I don’t really know what that is yet, but I do know that she hurts his feelings all the time, in one way or another, and I’m getting a little tired of having to mop up the heartache that SHE has caused. That she KEEPS causing. From the sidelines too – no direct contact, because she’s not allowed, but little digs through other family members. Photos, letters, dramatic Facebook statuses … But she’s his mother. I’m trying not to get involved at all, but I care a fucking fuck ton for that lad.
I guess I’m just trying to find my way here. I’m trying to make new friends, find new shops, do new things. I’m trying to be a step-mother without being a step-mother. I’m trying to be sexy at the same time as working, and doing housework, and cooking. I’m trying to find my writing spot. I can’t blog when Bear is around. He knows about it, but I can’t write it in front of him. I’m just trying to figure out my place here, I think. I am happy. Very happy. But sometimes … I just feel a little lost. And if I’m being honest about it, I’m trying not to. I know how lucky I am. I know how good Bear is to me, despite his foul moods and tempers sometimes. I know how hard he works to keep me happy, and his son too, and be a good man. I know how difficult he finds it to keep his moods under wraps sometimes, but I can see him trying. I’m so lucky to have found him. Sometimes I just need to moan though … is that so bad?
We’re not perfect. But we are something special. He loves me no matter what I look like, or how farty I get on bad tummy days. He can’t keep his hands off me even when I haven’t shaved my legs, and when I’m feeling totally unsexy. I think he really loves me. Perhaps bordering on obsession sometimes, but it’s really nice to be loved, and to see and feel that love too. I can see it when I look into his beautiful brown eyes. I’ve fallen into brown eyes before, but not like his. They almost remind me of my Mama’s bulldog’s eyes … loyal, faithful, loving and adoring. A tad offensive, perhaps, but I’ve said that to his face.
Anyway, I’m still here. I’m sorry I haven’t blogged more. I’m just trying to find my place, that’s all. I’ll be back. Maybe I’m already back? Let’s see, shall we?
How are you all doing? Missed you! xo