Love is love is love. It all develops with similar circumstances, out of fondness and friendship. It ends one of two ways: falling out of love and moving on or when we take our last breath and depart this world. I pray the deep relationship Hugo and I have will afford us the opportunity to part ways after decades of love and life shared, holding hands as we snuggle in bed, both of us simultaneously falling asleep never to wake again. I want us to go out as we have lived together, as a team.
Well, that was somber. Not my initial intention when I began writing this. Despite how dark I just got, I meant it all with the fullest intent of love. My love realized in life, through having Hugo, is probably the biggest unexpected aspect of my life. You dream of finding a Prince Charming as a young girl but when it actually happens, you can’t help but question if your reality is, well, for real.
Then you realize it is and as you marinate in the perfectness of that perfect moment you also realize nothing else really matters. As I always say – easier said than done – but seriously folks, what other nonsensical, annoying, ‘not worth my time or energy’ BULLSHIT matters in the least, or even stands up to something so magnificently beautiful? Not that hard to answer. Nothing.
Now, all of these thoughts and feelings come on the heels of yet another couple nights of frustration and angst, as I sit alone while Hugo works, letting my mind run circles around the things that cause me grief. I am stressed and Hugo knows it all too well, because I continue to pester him about it every chance I get. He is my best and most trusted outlet for over-analyzing all the things that make KK (yup, that’s me), KK. It felt like the right time to speak in the third person – it adds effect, ya know? Anyways, I bug Hugo until I can’t bug him anymore and I bug myself too. I wish I could turn my feelings off when it gets too heavy and I have had enough. I wish I didn’t care about most of the things that I do but then again, if that was the case and I didn’t care so strongly, I wouldn’t be me. I am sensitive to the words that are spoken to me, in front of me and about me. I am hyper-critical of myself in every way and when I perceive a misstep on my part, I circle back to the moment, the decision, the very word I stupidly said, until I can’t bear to think of it one more time. I am sure there are others out there who engage in this behavior, right? I presume I am not alone in this and, quite frankly, I think we all do it on some level, whether we’d like to admit it or not. Personally, being my own strongest critic is also a strength and I only care as much as I do because I seek to improve and develop as a partner and friend.
As I have said way too many times, just writing this down makes me realize how asinine the excessive, critical behavior really is. None of the recent moments I have been upset about are even noteworthy, if you can call it that. The girl drama at work has mildly improved but still persists. Today I received an update from an old co-worker about a scandalous, problematic, and damn-near criminal employee who we both used to work with – this stellar individual, who is still causing problems, is voicing his dislike of me. I have said many times how I not only call it like I see it but I also can’t wrap my head around the fact that others are blind to his ludicrous ways. I am stressed and nervous about submitting my transfer to another unit of assignment. While I know these things should just roll off my shoulders, they don’t and I am here. Getting better at being strong, keeping my priorities straight and focusing on the things that truly matter, but I am still me and me hurts a little.
Transitioning to bigger and better news – I am on the two week countdown until my real estate exam date! Studying like hell and surprising myself with my retention level (I got a 92 on my progress exam today), I am cautiously optimistic about taking the test that will plunge me into my new second career. Hugo has been so wonderful about the whole thing – encouraging me along the way, listening to me blab about the things I am learning and the things I still don’t know, but want to, and helping with everything in between as I forge tirelessly through vocab review and video lessons. I can really feel his love when he spends hours cooking a vegetarian meal of my choosing, so he can take care of me by nourishing my mind and body, all while I sit on the couch studying for my passionate pursuit. To be honest, one of the most exciting aspects of pursuing this new career is the excitement of sharing my success with him. In the end, if not for sharing it with those we love, what is it all for?
I started this post off by speaking of similar loves, three of them to be exact. My beautiful neighbors and my grandparents-in-laws (is that even right?) are both half of the couple they used to be for many years. The male portion of both equations has since passed away, while their widowed wives finish out their earthly time alone. Of the three relationships I strive to document further, I am the only woman alive and that makes me sad. I think about the love I have for Hugo and I presume my neighbors and Polly & Bob had such a similar bond, which makes me hurt for their loss that much more. One day soon, if I can finally get around to carving out some serious time, I fully intend on writing these three love stories for you to enjoy. I have thoroughly enjoyed watching them unfold, celebrating in their existence, and cherishing the fact that they even happened, so I know you will feel the same. You already know a little bit about Hugo and I so now it will be time to learn about the splendid people who came before him, making my love bug even possible.