All in 

I had a moment the other night. 

Sitting on the couch my guy looks at me and mouths with a smile: I love you. 

He’s careful with those words, I notice. He doesn’t say them lightly. 

And I realised in the moment that he’s all in. And here am I flipping and flopping like a salmon wondering if he’s all in, which means I am not sure if I should be all in, because who’s the fool; although, I feel like I’m all in, but then I see: I’m not. I have one hand on the side ready to pull out if it looks like I’ve made a mistake and overestimated the whole entire thing. The precious heart afraid to be broken by a foolish misunderstanding. And yeah: it’s me. 

So I ponder on this. I want to be all in. Very much. I’m a total retard. There’s this man that I love, and he loves me. And instead of enjoying myself and jumping in, I’m all tied up in knots. 

I think about the discussions we had around “family” this weekend. (When I say discussion  mostly it was him trying to work out my odd irrational behaviour over seemingly innocuous things). 

He sort of “got it” when he discovered  that the issues all relate to family. I’m grateful that he can care enough to process and analyse the big data of me. He proposes that family is important to me, and that I have this idea of the perfect family. An ideal that’s not being met because it’s an archetype, and life is much more modern. 

I have been slow roasting that nugget of insight for a few days. (In the day time not in my sleep. I can feel the processing using all the space of whirring circles as I walk along).

And the proposal that “it’s because I didn’t have the perfect family as a child” is rejected by the spreadsheet eventually. This family issue is not related to my childhood desire for a postcard family. Although it’s a fair stab.

Instead, my broken minded idea is that once someone starts to distance themselves from the family, suddenly the romantic relationship is about to demise. It’s a signal. 

I saw my dad broken-hearted as my mum pulled away, and I must have realised that the family unit had been separating ovr the preceding week and months. I must have felt the vibe of the separation maybe. Who knows what resonates in a nine  year old. 

When Ronnie didn’t want to spend time with us (me and the kids as a family unit), I felt that same frustration of something falling apart and a fear that I couldn’t hold it together and somehow if that happens (a crash) great pain emerges out the other side. Or something like that. 

Effectively the problem is a faulty data point that says: if someone does not want to have family time (if all family members are not present or included or somehow collected into one place for joy), that person is flagged as: warning they are about to leave the romantic relationship!

A world of effort could be expended in family time. Clearly, during a board game with giggles all would be well. But even with all the good karma possible in the bank, one nip out in avoidance of a family event and boom, trigger, and death to the au rationale. This hardly seems reasonable, so I smelt the rat. 

It’s neat that this has almost nothing to do with family and instead relates to a broken heart, because I have some expertise in this area. I am not afraid of a broken heart, so I can take this on head first. 
I want all in. And I’m going to get it. 


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