It's Not You, It's Me by Gabriella West

Author:Gabriella West [Gabriella West]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781310955693
Publisher: Shaggy Dog Publications
Published: 2014-09-21T03:00:00+00:00

Blowin’ Away

A wise friend of mine remarked during my relationship with Eileen, “You’ve never had a honeymoon period.” It was true. There was a way, right from the beginning, that we put each other on edge. After the first dinner together at her house, she became quiet, frozen and silent. I remember sitting there, wondering what was going on. Had I done or said something wrong? Surely not. Finally she confessed that she was feeling upset because I hadn’t offered to wash the dishes. Inwardly, I was incredulous. Did this matter? How could this possibly really matter to her? But I came to understand that Eileen had been brought up very differently from me. It was important to fulfill certain obligations, and if you didn’t do your full share, there was going to be hell to pay. I, on the other hand, expected a certain level of affection, attention, and intimacy, and would speak up when I didn’t get it. This would always trouble Eileen. She would say defensive things like, “Well, this is my first real relationship. I haven’t really done this before.” Once, when I questioned the way her now-divorced parents had behaved with each other, wondering whether they paid attention to each other or talked much, Eileen blurted out angrily, “There was never any intimacy in my parents’ marriage!”

As our relationship reached the four- or five-month mark, I was beginning to see yet another Eileen emerge. She was volatile, crying often. Once a friend called her from Nebraska to say that the friend’s old dog had died, and Eileen burst into tears on the phone, crying uncontrollably. I observed this with discomfort, not knowing how to help. Another time, wandering around her apartment while she wasn’t there, I came across a notebook where she had jotted down some thoughts and feelings. I was chilled when I came to several pages in the middle of the notebook. They were covered in wild, scrawled handwriting—indecipherable, but disturbing. Eileen had mentioned that she had had a nervous breakdown at some point in Nebraska, when her memories of molestation had started to surface. She even said that she’d been suicidal at times, especially at night.

I had expected Eileen to have an essentially stable self. This was what I had come to depend on during the friendship. Eileen would be there for me, as she always had been. But the relationship was different. Eileen seemed to operate on a very emotionally precarious level; in fact, I was supposed to be there for her. The problem was that I was continually rocking the boat, trying to get comfortable in the relationship, trying in vain to reach a point where I felt needed and loved, yet not trapped or smothered. We were both doing this, and our perpetual navigations around each other became exhausting. But still, I thought, we were trying! I was not happy, but I was content with the occasional morsel of happiness, though it seemed harder and harder to get this.

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