I wake up dry-mouthed and dread washes over me.
On the surface, I have just spent a lovely weekend full of Spring sunshine, with my children, and Mr Nice, but deep inside, little signs are aligning and dread is solidifying inside my heart in a way I know all too well.
Nothing much has happened, but my instinct is well-honed, and my fear buttons are suddenly being sat on by a herd of elephants.
Now, my insecurity thresholds are extremely high, and there is a chance that I might be mistaken, that things are exactly as Mr Nice describes them: That he feels down because as a result of my entry into his life, his ex has clamped down on what used to be their family times, and as a result, he sees far less of his son. His son is feeling down, Mr Nice is having trouble adapting to all the change, and feeling down too. That grieving for his family touches down to deeper wounds in him. And that spending time with my children and me stirs all that up.
But deep inside, I know with almost blinding certainty. That he shouldn’t be feeling down a couple of months into our relationship. That he has all but stopped trying to meet my needs. That I was feeling so secure that I probably scared him too? Relationships are so complicated.
Whatever. What it probably means is that while I was on my way to falling for Mr Nice, he wasn’t falling for me. We both went through the heady loveliness of meeting someone and falling in lust. But for him, my guess is that the essay wasn’t transformed.
He probably doesn’t know this himself yet. He is probably still wondering why he’s feeling the way he does, and why my presence fails to comfort him. I probably know before him.
And I’m not sure what to do with this knowledge.
But I wish I didn’t know.
Agnès Obel – Falling, catching
For I am falling, and no-one can catch myself but me.