Sponsor me in the 2005 MS Walk! Why? Read here.
First, I want to thank Sinnamon and company for making me the first featured writer of the newly-resurrected Classic Diaryland site. Y�all totally rock.
Oh, and to whomever followed the link to my page from the Classics page and read a whole boatload of entries today�say hello, would�ja? It makes me so very happy when people sign my guestbook. Which is very different from singing my guestbook, which is what I originally typed there. I SO need a nap�
Yeah, so, anyway�
Right now, Donna and Allen are across the street at the Longwood Grille, enjoying food and drink on the hospital at the division holiday party. They walked over there about 15 minutes ago, along with a good representation of our managers.
I was invited to the party, too. I was on the fence about going, but decided against it when on several occasions today the people who DID go talked about it in front of me and never asked if I was going. Let me give those of you who work in corporate America some advice, kids. Your administrative assistant isn�t invisible. If you expect her to do good work for you, don�t treat her as such. Bastards.
Not that I had a huge draw toward the party, but still�
I have bigger things on my brain today.
Brian called our house yesterday (hi Brian!) to let me know he�d arrived home safely from the party the night before. I�d asked him to call, so that I�d know he hadn�t succumbed to his tiredness on the long, cold ride back to Hartford.
He talked to the Husband first, and then to me for a few moments before hanging up. As he usually does, he followed his goodbye with an �I love you.� I answered him back, as I usually do, �Love you, too.�
After I put the phone down, I turned to find the Husband standing right behind me. �You know,� he said, �I�ve noticed that you tell everyone else in your life that you love them much more easily than you tell me.�
I opened my mouth to answer him, but no words came out. Because, of course, he�s right. And I don�t know how to respond to that.
Lorne told me he loved me. After he raped me.
I told the Other Brian that I loved him. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, �How do you know?�
I told the Artboy that I loved him. Repeatedly. He used it against me.
I guess I have a problem with the phrase.
And it�s not because I don�t love him. I do, more than anything. But I have a huge amount of trouble putting that into words. I think it a lot. But getting it off my tongue�not so easy.
I wish I could say exactly why, but I really don�t know. I�m not afraid of him. I�ve told him before, and nothing bad has happened. But when the moment comes around and the words are hanging there in my head, I just can�t get them out.
After a while, with the Artboy, there was almost always a �but� at the end of the phrase. �I love you, but I just can�t do this any more.� Or, �I love you, but I can�t allow you to treat me this way.� Or, �I love you, but I�m leaving.�
Not sure how long it will take before they come naturally, by themselves, again. Apparently, it�s more than three years.
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