Who I am: The concierge to this morbid soliloquy.
Where I am: Smack dab in the middle of another intense rehab that takes a high level Douch bag, soothes his demons and releases him a better version of himself ready to grace the life of a worthy damsel into the twilight.
Context: I have a type. The misunderstood. The not hugged enough little boy stuck in an adult man’s body. I am the not nurtured enough nurturer who hopes to be picked. The 100 percent into this while relishing his 20 percent until I run out of my percent at the cusp of his 21 percent investment. I come in the savior, leave the bad guy. I am the quintessential enigma, wrapped in a paradox and shrouded in a conundrum presented as a case study in masochism.
Cards on the table: Single girl, at the birth of her career crosses paths with a single dad rebuilding his life. He presents as stable, with a well-established but demanding career, bumbling through fatherhood while ill equipped and making the best of it. His possessive nature presents to the nurturer as being chosen. Being aggressively chosen by a partner who just needs help to lighten the burden, share the load, take on life together. The subtle requests to put him first, the narcistic guilt tripping that skews one’s thoughts towards changing one’s habits and behaviors to keep the peace and belong. Fast forward to nurturer taking on a mortgage to provide a home and security for the children who have captured her loyalty, in the school district that will grow their potential and undertake the course of healing old wounds.
The catch: Stable well established has changed lanes. Accepted work assignments are few and far between. Family necessities have been deferred to the nurturer. Nurturer is overleveraged emotionally, financially and socially. Emotionally and socially isolated from her circle, financially sinking faster than the Hindenburg came down. However, the need to find himself through music production and home repair contracting is rife in our stable well-established veins. Especially now that he has backup, a safety net, room to breathe.
The crux of the matter: A brush with mortality worked like a bucket of cold water on the rosy reality the nurturer had been existing in. When a look around finds a situation that is best left behind, conversations are had, and the nurturer becomes the villain. The victims are the children. Their newfound security… is hanging by a thread. After repeated requests for help, several failures to step up and growing tension in the home. Do you walk away or wait out in the hope for change.
She walked away… into the throes of another rehab. God bless her soul.
Short stories from a Broken soul 