Right When You Need It

Ace’s posts tend to not be that long. There are times when he writes something that addresses your current situation perfectly.

Yesterday’s post was one of them.

I’ve mentioned Redhead on here a few times, and hinted at the internal frustration over this limbo I’m in with her. I understand her reservations and reasons why she’s hesitant at dating again. Hell, I would probably be doing the same thing if I was in her shoes.

What kills me though, is the uncertainty. Uncertainty in the “what am I to her?” vein.

When we see each other, we talk. “Getting to know you” type of stuff like family, life, and work. She’s real friendly and is telling me about herself. I gently tease her every once-in-awhile, which brings either a laugh or a smile to her face. She even told me the story (abridged) about why she’s holding off on “getting back out there”.

Now since I’ve asked her out*, I’ve been very upfront with the fact that I like her. I’ve even told her so**. While she isn’t actually “ghosting” or “flaking” per se, she might as well be.

It doesn’t feel like she’s stringing me on though, and I should know what that looks like.

Ace says that all you can do when it seems as if a girl has disengaged emotionally is to clean you home. You have no control over what she feels. Trying to regain her attention will have the effect of her sending you packing.

The post showed me that I have been doing the “correct” thing for the past few months.

Trying to get her attention – at this juncture – is a fool’s errand.

She’ll either write you off as desperate (at best) or creepy (at worst).

So take care of yourself.

Sanitize your surroundings.

Freshen (in every sense of the word) your environment.

There’s no downside to this course of action.

1} It clears the path for friends and visitors, new and old.

2} It helps clear your own head.

3} It prevents you from hating yourself and your station, if only a little, that much more.

4} It keeps you from obsessing over mistakes, missteps and self-doubt.

5} Lastly, and importantly, it keeps you from digging the hole between you and she even deeper.

Thus, get to work and let her go… to flee or return.

I knew this as truth, and was glad I’ve respected the boundary she’s put up for the time being. I can’t force her change her mind and I also can’t make her like me.

I still have my armor on,” she told me one evening after we walked back from the fitness center in my complex.

But, she has lowered her shield and has never drew her sword.

We’ll have to see what happens.

*[Immediate and enthusiastic “Yes!” when I did so]
**[No “That’s nice, but…” or “I don’t feel the same way…” when I said that to her]

The Fear

“[…] in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” – Benjamin Franklin

A few posts ago, I mentioned that the nervousness that I used to feel in the pit of my stomach was gone.  Throughout my life, I’d get stomachaches when I got nervous.  I was shy and afraid of screwing up.  My stomach would tie in knots, hands would sweat, my heart would race and my cheeks would get hot.  It was something that I had to deal with on a daily basis for a long time.

Then I had my surgery.

In that post, I glossed over the first three to five months of my recovery, in which the fear of me possibly not waking up in the morning was always in the back of my mind.  The memory of a twice-occurring moving “numbness” starting at my scar and moving partway down my leg and then moving sequentially though my arm, fingers, face and tongue nagged at me.  Even though it happened only twice (and was probably just a set of nerves firing), I feared that I would stroke out while asleep and die.

Before I closed my eyes every night, crossing myself, I’d recite an almost forgotten prayer from my childhood:

As I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

And if I die before I wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

Amen.

I’d fall asleep with my super-sensitive scar reacting to the movement of my shirt, only to wake up the next morning.

Little by little, the number of times I woke up started to eat away at my fear.  Back then I could tell you exactly how many months, weeks, and days it had been since I was cut open.  As they added up, with me getting slowly better, I was able to face the fear and deal with it.

To be honest, I became content with the worst-case outcome and accepted it at face value.  I didn’t try to escape via alcohol or drugs.  If it was going to happen, it would happen, and I had no control over if it did or did not.

Coming to grips with the possibility of death, although miniscule in my case, brings things in your life into perspective.  It helps you to realize that those things you worry or have anxiety about are trivial in the grand scheme of things.  And why should you spend your limited time on this here planet if you are afraid to act?

Talking to a pretty girl?  No big deal.

Giving that big presentation?  Don’t worry.

Up for your yearly assessment?  Child’s play.

Because at the end of the day, you’re going to end up in a pine box buried six feet under or as ashes in an urn.  So don’t be afraid to try new things or undertake a task that might be painful.  Live your life without regrets, because you only have one to live.