Muddling On

I said I love him, but do I?  I certainly don't love his stroke.
I worry that I 'love' being in a relationship for the first time, 'love' being adored...taking love more than I'm giving it.  Yet, I go out of my way to do things for him, and endlessly fuss about him...I help him put his jacket on and do up his buttons, because his frozen hand can't do it very quickly.  I drive him hither and thither.  I'm there- isn't that what counts?

This blog has over 1,000 pages views now.  I can't believe it!
The story has changed drastically since I started, in a way I never, never NEVER saw coming.
It felt so hopeless last summer; I felt so alone, so stuck.  It seemed my inexperience was a self-fulfilling prophecy, that no one would want me because no one had wanted me before, and that my fear and skittishness would scuttle any prospects anyways.

Walrus had a stroke, and with it he lost brain cells, and the use of some body parts.  He lost a significant amount of weight.  He lost his job.  His fiancee left him, which also left him homeless.  Some friends drifted away, I imagine, although he hasn't talked about it much, and a big family issue came up this year.  Basically every aspect of the life he had built for himself was destroyed or threatened.... Everything changed.  Everything.

Then I came along.
Sometimes I wonder how he can ask someone to take on all his baggage...
He needs support.  He has nothing to give but love.
I used to worry I wasn't loved for who I was, but just for being there in a difficult time.  Then I decided I didn't care.

Maybe we are just two lonely people who needed someone.  It's certainly a weird story...
I found someone who was willing to be patient with me and my inexperience, because he needed someone to be extremely patient with him as he heals and rebuilds his life.
(I mean, he needs to sleep 12-15 hours a day!  Patience is required.)

Side note- I just found out his fiancee is a doctor.  He was going to marry a doctor!

And I have some embarrassment about introducing him to my family and friends.  I am ashamed of myself for being ashamed of him even in the tiniest way.

As hard as this is, I'm getting something out of it.  I feel happy, in a confused, frightened, frustrated kind of way.
This week he stayed the night.  No hanky-panky, just sleeping.  (We had somewhere to be early in the morning.  It made the most sense logistically or I never would have had the nerve to suggest it.  I didn't ask my mother; I just did it.)  It was so nice to wake up and have him there.