Snake in The First Life

Anxiety is a snake.
Quiet and strong, quick to strike.

There’s a part of me that gives, and gives, and gives, and then sits in fear that I’ve given too much.
I pour out everything I have and then I’m afraid that I’ve given everything I have to offer.
That I am now too available, too kind, too much for granted.
So I lie awake before I sleep and all I can think of are the ways that I might fail.
Of the moments I didn’t hear the exact words I wanted.
Of the hours and days and months ahead and whether they will hold the things I hope for.
I can’t even dream of those things because it feels so unpredictable with him.

He is gentle and kind.
Calls me to talk.
Invites me over, holds my hand, kisses like he means it.
He is there to listen, and trusts me enough to tell me things.
Consistent.
Reliable.

Some days I don’t know how he feels.
Like I need for him to tell me.
Like I’m too insecure and I cannot figure out why.
He has given me no reason to feel that way.
Does everything he should.
Why do I always worry about the ending, like it’s bound to happen?

It’s safe to say, at this point, that I really just want someone to stay with.
I want to grow old and cranky with someone.
I want to be able to rely on someone loving me enough to put work in when it’s needed.
I want someone to want me the way I want them, and I’m not sure I’ve ever really had that.
I’ve been equipped with gloves, with brick and mortar, I’ve always been ready to build, and to fight, and to work.

Maybe no one will ever be.

Maybe the attitude of assuming that I’m meant to be this way, is the wrong one.
I can’t even believe that someone would want to commit to me.
That’s a horrible thing.
I think I’m worth it
I know I’m good.
I just don’t trust anyone to work at things.
To be there when I’m difficult.
I spend so much time doing everything j can to be effortless, that when I become effort, it’s too much.

This storm in my brain had no real origin.
I live too far in the future.
I’ve become too conditioned to fear.
I want to plan things, because planning feels like permanence.
Because I need to plans to make me feel safe.
One week at a time.
Except I can never just look at one week.
I’m looking at months ahead.
Sometimes I peek further, and wonder if he’d live at my house.
If he could handle my dogs.
What he’d do with his condo.
I wonder if he’ll decide that he loves me.
If he’ll want to make plans and decisions.
If he’ll have me over for holidays and go on vacations.

I wish I could be any other way.
And live for the current moment .
I wish I could stop dreaming sometimes.