Go Big or Go Home
ST would prefer, “If you’re going to get wet, might as well go swimming.” But that’s too complacent for me. I’m not about accepting fate and going along for the ride. The wet I’ve been getting these days is all sweat. It feels gritty and ionic. But it’s what gets the job done and I’m not here to go half-assed. I feel like I’ve done that all my life. Even last night, driving home from meeting his cousins, I thought about how I have no one specific talent I’ve cultivated to perfection. That’s why I’ve returned to school. Returned to the sanctuary. I’m good at many things; I want to be great at something.
This morning, at 3:30am, he curled up around him and whispered, “I asked you something…”
Even in my stupor, even though it was possible he had asked me a dozen things since, I knew.
“You asked me to not over load myself.”
“Mmm hmm. You never promised.”
Damn. He noticed that, huh? I wanted to argue; just last week he made it sound like he thought I was pussy for complaining about my revolving front door and living out of my car. In truth, I’m scheduled less than a 40-hour work week.
“I’m scheduled less than a 40-hour work week.” I knew this wasn’t going to fly.
“It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment. I just worry. Please promise me.”
Promise to cut down on the very character trait that attracts you to me? The one I’ve tried to cut down on for two years?
I wanted to mention the fact that I’d told GM I probably would take next Tuesday off. That I’d be cutting my hours short today. That I’m trying. I really am. It’s just hard, because he shouldn’t trust my judgment. I don’t know when to go home. Going big is programmed into my skin. I can’t stop it no more than I can stop the sweat. I’m only toying with next Tuesday off because I know I don’t know. Preventative measures - that’s the best I can do.
But I’ve had this argument before. And yesterday morning I woke up with a TMJ flare-up. My left ear hurts right now; the muscles in my jaw tighten and push against the drum. So maybe I do know. Maybe previously I’ve felt the stress of going home - giving up, defeated - is worse than the consequences of going big.
I want to be my best. For him. With him. He takes care of me so much already. I need to be able to reciprocate.
“I promise.”
Go big or go home? That’s easy. Figuring out how my big encompasses me, him, friends, family? Much harder. I hope I’m up to the challenge.
[...] ST, in his wisedom and love, was fine with this arrangement. I let it mull over in my head for a day or so, already stressed about timing and traffic and could I get anything accomplished in a few hours out there and feel good about leaving. Then I decided I am too fucking old to be a martyr again and we are now leaving for the cabin Friday night. The sanctuary will survive without me, probably even run smoother without someone frantic to leave so early in the day. This is probably a no-brainer to most people out there, but it was hard for me and part of my learning process. I made him a promise. I haven’t always been great at keeping these kinds of promises. [...]