My Struggle

It’s a fine line to walk, God. It looks the same on the outside, but it is where the focus of the mind and soul is at. That’s why we can’t judge others.

I am pretty sure I am making a mountain out of a mole hill, but my fears are being played on. What if the uniform isn’t worn? In the Baptist upbringing, the guys parted their hair, wore polo shirts and khakis. J always had his goatee, earrings, tattoo and jeans that were worn well below his non-existent butt.

Now I feel maybe he will be scrutinized on the basis of if he is “touchy feely” or not. He’s not a hugger. He doesn’t get real excited about much of anything. (I would love to see the Cubs win a World Series before either of us die, because I am pretty sure that will be the height of excitement and I’m not sure what that looks like for him.) When we were dating in that “bliss” period, he still wasn’t much of a cuddler. By not much of a cuddler, I mean not at all. His love is expressed through faithfulness. His love is expressed through honesty. His love is expressed by his interest in things he has no interest in except vicariously though me.

And will people miss the solid love because it’s not a gushy love? Will they miss the steadfastness and deem him not good enough again because he doesn’t meet their expectations? I worry. I don’t want to have to ever prove myself to someone again. I don’t want to have to defend J or point out the things that really matter because they are too blind to see them.

Not that this is happening. I just see signposts that might lead that direction if we stay on this course and follow the thought through to its extreme. I don’t want to leave again. I thought we were safe. When you are around, we are. Watch this and keep it close.