Thwap!

That is the sound of me being blindsided yesterday. Not in an accident, but I was in the car. I had gone to pick up 1/2 to take her to lunch. (Who doesn’t love the flexibility that comes with the new job?).

Well, here is what I hear on the drive…”So, I’ve been reading about fear of intimacy.” Shit. So much for a nice little lunch. I respond, “What made you start reading about that?” all the while knowing the answer. No response. So I add, “because I have it?” “Yeah.” Shit.

Then there’s a little more conversation. 1/2 says that being with someone with a fear of intimacy is even more lonely than being alone. Shit. But fair enough. We both understand where it comes from–childhood trauma, repeatedly being hurt by the people you’re supposed to be able to trust above all, etc. So now what? Now I’m supposed to share what I think and feel and tear down the walls yadda yadda yadda. Fuck.

I’m back with a kapow, no?