Friday night Bear and I took a spontaneous trip North to visit his God parents. They live in Van Buren, a town three and a half hours away from us. It was a long drive, but a good one; Bear even let me sleep for an hour or so. We got there pretty late, but on Saturday when we woke up, there was much to do. Breakfast of potatoes, eggs, and moose steak started our day, and then we were off to his God sister Kelly's house to socialize. Kelly has three kids and they are FULL of energy. They got me on the trampoline (a mistake, my body informed me later) and craziness ensued. It was a pretty good time, all things considered.
when we got home that night, I was tired. It wasn't until I was ready to head to the shower that I realized we had forgotten the ditty bag in Van Buren. Everything I needed was in it - my prescriptions, shampoo, conditioner, hair brush, toothbrush, lotion... and there is nothing open for 50 miles, so I'm stuck. Of course I blamed Bear for it. It must have been his fault, he had it last! He said it was my fault, that I was carrying stuff out to the car, too, so I was equally responsible. I shouted at him, he shouted at me, and I got boiling mad. So did he. Finally, he stormed off to the office and I ran into the bathroom. I immediately started bawling. I hate fighting, I hate yelling, and I was really upset about not having my things (especially my birth control pills). I would have just cried myself out if I had been left to my own devices, but I was loud enough that Bear heard me. Poor thing, I don't think he knew he was about to get himself into.
Some things you should know about me: one, I hate not being in control, and two, when I am upset, I prefer to be alone. Something about not showing weakness in front of people, I think. Anyway, Bear opens the door to the bathroom and sees me sitting on the toilet, my head in my hands, bawling my eyes out. I'm not a pretty crier - my nose gets red, I hyperventilate something awful... in short, I look and sound like I'm about to choke. Bear was still irritated, so he shouted, "What's wrong now? Why the hell are you crying?" I was crying too hard to answer him. I couldn't look at him, because I knew this was stupid, that I'd be fine in a minute if he'd just go away. I hate it when people are angry with me for crying, too. My mom used to do that all the time and it scarred me. I don't think it's right to yell at someone when they are crying! Wait until they are done, THEN yell at them.
After a few moments of me not answering him, Bear tried to make me respond. He grabbed my arms and hauled me up on my feet. Normally that's not a big deal, but he grabbed hair in the process, and that hurt. He kept saying, "Tell me what's wrong! Look at me! Answer me!" I truly think he was more worried at this point, because I could barely breathe I was hyperventilating so badly. all I knew was that he was restraining me. I fully freaked out. I haven't had a full-fledged freak-out session in years. Basically what happens is I start screaming and fighting like an alley cat to get away. I'm not articulate - all I can yell is, "Go away! Stop touching me! Let me GO!" over and over again. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I know I pushed him, tried to pull away, stomped on his feet, anything to get away so I could run again. Bear wasn't having any of it. He must have realized that I wasn't myself, because after a bit he stopped being mad and became really worried instead. He pulled me to him and rubbed my back, pushed my hair back away from my face, and just chanted, "Breathe. It's okay. Calm down. Breathe." Of course as soon as my brain registered he wasn't angry anymore I wrapped my arms around him and hung on for dear life. He really is the best source of comfort around. Eventually I was calm enough to blow my nose and get a drink of water.
Once I was calm(er), I tried to explain why I was so upset. Mostly, I said, it was because we were shouting at each other (something we rarely do), but also because life seemed very out of control at that moment. I didn't have my things and no matter what, I wasn't going to have them. The combination of those two things sent me into a crying jag. Then I explained about the freakout. I apologized for scaring him. It wasn't his fault, really, that he made me tweak out - the blame for that belongs on the men I've dated previously. Two men, Chad and Dan, used to pin me when I cried to make me stop. Against a wall, on a bed, wherever I was. They were always angry, and they always made it worse. The last time it happened, Dan actually grabbed my chin with one hand and forced my eyes open with the other. It wasn't pleasant. It seemed that Bear was going to do the same thing there for a minute, which is why I started screaming.
Thankfully he didn't, and I was able to return to my senses. He apologized for yelling, so did I, we hugged some more, things got better. I'm more embarassed now than anything. I hate for people to see me like that, to know what depths I'm capable of sinking to. I am writing about it so that I can put it in perspective. Bear still loves me, I still love him, the wedding is going on as planned, hopefully it will never happen again. If I can show him the worst of me and he still loves me, then I've got him hooked. So thank you, Bear, for helping me see that even in my worst moments, I'm still worthy of being loved.