I’ve been away from my blog for a long time.  I’ve had quite a few life changes.  I’ve already given the health update, my psychiatric situation is in flux, but the biggest change is that I’ve moved in with my boyfriend.  Yikes!

At 39 its a little late in life to lear how to live with someone else when I’ve lived alone most of my adult life.  I’ve been feeling that I don’t have the tools that are necessary for a successful relationship.  I’m learning though, J. is to important to me not to.

Now, we haven’t been together for very long.  In all actuality we should have been eachother’s transitional relationships.  Both of us having each ending a relationship recently when we got together.  But, it was just right.  Why fight it?

There are times when I get so irritated  I want to leave, but it passes because I guess I love him and want this to work.  I just feel like my personal space has been trespassed upon.  Our new house is big enough to get away, and I comandeered the office for my own.

On the other hand, I love the domestication of it.  Making dinner for him.  Doing the laundry.  Weird stuff is making me…well…content.  Don’t get me wrong, sometimes that contentment feels so foreign its uncomfortable.  Sometimes I bait him just to get a response (not very healthy I know).  Other times it is  just the perfect thing to just sit quietly together on the couch, each of us with our laptops in a companionable silence.

No, I’ll never give him children.  But, I gave him a dog and two cats he loves.  He takes care of me when my back is in pain, I’m trying to give him a real home.  Its all a lesson in real life and I think I’m rolling with it.

So, my birthday is around the corner.  39.  Once again the ugly head of spinsterhood is facing me.  Sort of.  I’ve been seeing someone for about 5 months, but we aren’t “exclusive.”  Or at least we weren’t.  At about month 3 I started freaking out about having someone in life in a perhaps permanent way.  I told him to date other women, that I couldn’t give him what he needed.  I was being brutally honest.  I cared about him but couldn’t do a lot of the things a girlfriend should do. 

My agoraphobia stops me from going out to eat, go to the movies, really any kind of “date” thing.  Let alone go to his house where his teenage kids were.  I could down any number of Klonopins and still feel the band around my chest and labored breathing.  There is a line from a song by the Magnetic Fields that sums me up – “I’m un-boyfriendable.”  I can’t handle variations in my routine and trying to fit another person into my life is incredibly disruptive. 

He was really persistant and a few weeks ago I gave in and started seeing him again on a more regular basis.  I was still insistant that he see other people though.  Then last week I took a big breath and actually spent the night at his house.  I survived.  But, it changed how I looked at our relationship.  The simple act of spending the night with him shifted my resolve.  I don’t want him to see other women now.  Damn it, I don’t want to be here.  It doesn’t seem fair to move the goal posts on him.  I don’t want to be possessive, nor do I want to be “girly.”  But these feelings are creeping in. 

My daily patterns can’t be set in stone when another person is involved.  That scares the Hell out of me.  I depend on routine to hold myself together.  Right now I’m free floating, when I’m with him I feel safe but on my own I’m petrified. 

It doesn’t help that I’m experiencing a low level depressive cycle right now.  I’m pretty sure it has to do with the change in weather.  I’m back to going to bed by 7pm and waking up at 2am.  Crap.  I haven’t been able to write, its a struggle to do my homework.  Luckily I see the P Doc on Monday.

I guess the bottom line is that I’m safer by myself with just the obligatory cats and dog.  But, is safer better?  Isn’t happiness more likely when you risk something?  He and I are supposed to be talking today, I guess I will see how he reacts to a change in the rules.  Where is the xanax patch when you need it?