It's okay? Really??

My name is Cristina Johnson
Oh what a day today has been. I was dreading my session with Michelle. I had a specific thing to talk to her about: That "feeling" of "breaking a rule" when it comes to loving someone.

As I walk in, she makes no qualms: You look like hell.

And I did. I have cried every day since Saturday - good cries and bad ones - and my mouth is so sore with fever blisters. "Yes," I agreed. "I look about as good as I feel."

"So what's going on?" she asks, her typical starting phrase.

I was afraid to tell her. How strange, I think now. How strange that I was afraid to tell her (or anyone, really) that Bill heard back from an employer here in CT and there's a good chance he could be home for Christmas.

I was scared, so at first, I didn't tell her. Instead, I told her about "the rule" and asked her what she thought about it.

"Where does it come from?" I asked. "Does the fact that Hannah and I are incest survivors have anything to do with it?"

Oh no...she won't let me off that easy.

"Where do you think it comes from?"

I said (cleverly avoiding my own responsibility for the answer), "Well, Hannah says she thought it might have to do with not believing we deserve it."

She said nothing, just kept watching....oh she doesn't let me off easy.

"But I don't think that," I finally said.

Her eyes widened and she said, "You just threw me. This is a different 'you'," she said. I would expect Hannah's kind of answer from you.

"No, no," I said. "I mean, I don't believe it consciously, anyway. And I don't believe it for Hannah or anyone else."

We spent a few moments batting back and forth about it and she finally - thankfully - helped me weed through the marsh of my mind.

"When people go through trauma - especially complex trauma like yours and especially when it includes the people who were supposed to protect and love you - it turns your perceptions upside down," she explained.

I'll sum it up:

Love always hurts. Duh. I know that. Anyone with any experience in it, knows that. But for me, as a child, the only two times I didn't do what I was asked (oh, so benevolently) to do by my father, I was either (1) sodomized or (2) strangled and suffocated. That's why it only happened twice. I learned to never tell him no. It also happened through the rapes...the many times when, if you cry or show any emotion or physical pain, they hit you. This taught me unequivocally, that love equals punishment.

"Who is going to punish you?" she asked me.

This is where it got tough, and I shrugged, rather childishly, looked sideways to the cream-colored carpet.

"My facebook friends?" I offered.

"What do you mean?"

"They'll ostracize me and chastise me and judge me."

"Right which would be excruciating for you, since you just went through that."

"Yes," I admitted.

"Who else?

I began to tear up, I whispered, "You?"

"Why would I punish you?" she asked, incredulous. "Now, now we're back to the Cristina I know," she said half-jokingly. "Listen, unless you have a gun and you're ready to use it on yourself, none of the decisions or choices you make are really my business," she said lightly. "What do you want?" she asked. "What does Cristina want?"

I was afraid to answer...still.

She wouldn't let up. "It's okay. Whatever you want, is okay. It doesn't matter what anyone else says, it's what you want and if it's not self-destructive or hurting others, then it's okay!" she stated.

This was when I told her about Bill and the job and I read to her the end of my last blog, crying as I read the words...remembering the feelings I had that day...remembering the power of them.

"So who would disapprove of that? Obviously Cindy approves and Trevor definitely approves. So who would disapprove?"

I, again, said "My facebook friends, you (meaning, her), Bill's family..." I cried. I cried not just because of these fears, but also because I was so afraid in that moment.

She said: "My husband is my best friend and I have to tell you that if I had to walk away from every family member and friend for my marriage, I would do it without question." She said she was telling me this because relationships are personal and because some need distance, some need closeness, some need to be shut off completely.

I ached with this resounding joy in my heart....I could feel it throughout my body, that I'd just kind of gotten permission to love. To love Bill. To want him here. To miss him.

Other things were discussed but this was the most important. I left with a sense of purpose and resilience and I felt elated to have these words echoing in my mind: "It's okay for me to love Bill? Oh my God it's okay? It's okay??"

I later went to see my medical doctor and he kind of hurt me...made me feel like a worthless piece of shit (which isn't really his tendency, just my own issues) but even that - even though I sat there crying as he was telling me I was beyond his scope of care - I left almost bouncing. "I have permission to love him! It's okay for me to love him!"

Nothing about this whole situation has made sense to me until now..... it's so much of that tangled barbed wire I speak of inside, that I have to untangle, but I found a loose end, and I ain't lettin' it go, not til I figure out how to untangle it. I don't want to lose this feeling. In fact, I want to expand on it. I want it to grow and bleed into everyone and anyone in my life. I want to not fear loving them.

But Bill.... Bill I love you. I always have. I miss you.

It's Complicated

My name is Cristina D. Johnson

I was talking with Hannah last night via text, as we do almost every night. I was also talking to Bill, simultaneously - also, as every night.

I've cried, I think, every single day since Saturday, when Bill showed up for my birthday. Sometimes it's just a little cry, sometimes it's a sobbing, snotty cry. Sometimes it's just a quiet, keep-to-yourself cry...today it was an all-out, shaking, confused, terrified, time-for-a-klonopin-and-a-beer kind of cry.

My eyes hurt. My nose hurts. My lips hurt. (My lips don't hurt from crying, though....f'n fever blisters!)

Anyway, it was interesting to get validation from my 18-year-old protege' ...so young in her years, yet in many ways, so, so wise.

I was talking to Bill, as I mentioned. I took him to the airport Wednesday. My adoptive mother - Cindy - went with me (Bill asked her because he was concerned about me being alone, once I dropped him off). The ride home was relatively quiet, although we did talk a little bit.

But as soon as she was out of the car and I pulled out of her driveway on my way home, I cried all the way. Snow and rain began to beat the windshield as Winter Storm Athena rolled in. It seemed suitable, given the circumstances.

I must first, I suppose, try as best as I possibly can, to sum up what makes him so spectacular. First of all (and anyone who has ever met him, will attest to this), EVERYBODY loves Bill. Everyone. I've never seen an exception. His energy is calm. He is so laid back, so "chill" and open-minded. So, so calm. Just being around him and breathing him in, is soothing.

While he was here, we:

• Played in the leaves they raked in the yard (he got me good, dumped a whole load on my head)
• Danced in the front yard, to nothing but the wind
• Played cards and chess with Trevor almost every night (a real treat for Trevor - he adores Bill)
• He fixed all my storm windows (I couldn't get most of them closed)
• Put together my new office chair (no way I coulda done it)
• Looked at my car (I am apparently leaking antifreeze...he tightened the hose clamp, for now)
• Went to Aggie's Village Restaurant in Ivoryton - just down the street. Sat at the little bar and had breakfast together. Ordered almost exactly the same things.
• Sat outside on the porch, wrapped in blankets
• Cooked dinner together (twice)
• Went to Oliver's Tavern and restaurant on his last night here - ordered exactly the same thing, except I got bleu cheese and he ordered raspberry vinaigrette. (I have to point out that as we were sitting down, he stood there, and I asked, "what's wrong?" and he said, "I'm trying to decide if I want to sit next to you or across from you." So I moved over and he snuggled in next to me because sitting across from me was too far).
• He helped Trevor to earn money he needed to buy a couple things he wanted
• Cleaned up after me when I threw up (not alcohol-related), washed the clothes (twice) and cleaned out the washing machine.
• Went to the laundromat with me, helped me do the clothes
• Took out the trash
• Cleaned up while I was at my therapy session
• Sat on the couch, with every candle and incense lit, just talking after Trevor went to bed (we did this a lot)
• Went to Yankee Candle and he bought me another candle and himself a tart warmer with some great tarts, plus treated me to some, too.
• Bought Trevor a winter coat

I'm sure there are many more things...many more.

I talked to Bill - told him this - and also told Michelle (my therapist) that there was this moment. This moment when it just hit me "I love you!"  -  it was the moment I saw him standing there in the front yard with roses on my birthday. When I felt every cell in my body explode, when I couldn't control my screaming and my legs couldn't move fast enough and I couldn't wrap my arms around him quickly or tightly enough. When I couldn't even speak, when my legs wanted to collapse...that was that moment, when it hit me, "Oh my God, you love him."

Of course, I've always loved Bill (don't forget we went through a lot over the past 10+ years) and when we dated before, it was just about the same - a few differences, but he was always consistent and loving and attentive.

Throughout my relationship with Gary he was my sounding board and although he never said a bad thing about Gary, he was always there to listen. Of course, now, it's different. Now he admits all along that he knew Gary wasn't right for me, but he waited...he waited for me...

I don't know what to think of that...

So back to the conversation with Hannah....

I told her, as I cried, (paraphrasing), "I feel like I'm bad if I love him. Like I'm being bad."

"Yeah, like you're breaking some rule or something."

"Yes! Exactly!"

It is a child-like feeling. You don't want anyone to know that you love someone....you don't even want to admit to yourself that you might love someone, so much that just a mere memory of his face, brings tears to your eyes that just won't stop falling. I'm afraid to tell anyone....why?

Where does this come from? And what does the fact that Hannah and I are both incest survivors have to do with this 'rule-breaking' thing?

Bill, through the conversation, said, "It's okay. I want you to question it. I want you to be sure about everything. I want you to question everything and be sure it's what you want," because, well, that's how Bill is. But he didn't really understand - probably can't understand - what even I and Hannah fail to understand.

What is this unspoken "rule" we hold ourselves to? Do not love. You cannot love. It's against the rules!

Where does this come from?

Today, I panicked, full-blown....oh God...that fear of that "rule" combined with this desperate need to see him again, have him touch my face the way he does, hold my hands the way he does, make me laugh the way he does, treat Trevor the way he does.... with so much love, appreciation and devotion.

I love him...I am afraid.... I love him....I miss him...I am afraid...

I want him home.