What I should have done last night was to write a post entitled “waiting” – the very post I am writing now. “Waiting” actually sums up my life way better than “low point”. Not that the latter isn’t a suitable description, it is just not the best. Waiting is.
I looked up “waiting” to get the exact definition and thought it rather funny how I found myself faced with these words: “ wait ~ (for sth) to hope or watch for sth to happen, especially for a long time.”
“Especially for a long time.” Those words are so right, so fitting. I had wondered what these final days would be like. I knew they would be difficult and straining and that we wouldn’t see each other very much, but they have still surprised me. It has taken me by surprise how everlasting they seem to be.
J was in the shower this morning when I got up and went to brush my teeth. I am not kidding when I write that I was a little shocked when he drew the curtain. He had told me that someone had asked him the previous day if he was growing a beard, and I knew he hadn’t shaved in a while, but I wasn’t prepared for the caveman I was faced with. We talk on the phone several times a day, but at the moment the only time we actually spent together is when we sleep. And J gets up before my eyes are open and goes to bed (and comes home) long after my eyes have closed. We are kind of having a phone relationship despite living together.
I am not saying that my situation is unbearable and can be compared to his. I know that he is stressed out and working like a mad and looking desperately for the 25th hour of the day. But I want people to know that being the partner isn’t easy. J is wrapped up in writing and is never at home, so I tackle family and friends phoning to hear how he is doing. And I don’t really know what to answer when his mother asks me if he is going to be alright – or when my mother asks me if he has taken to sleeping at the desk instead of coming home. Do they want the truth or do they want some sugar-coated version of reality we all know is false? This weekend a friend of mine phoned and asked if he had submitted the dissertation yet. I said no and foolishly told her when he planned to do it. At the other end of the line she laughed and said “he just keeps pushing the submission, doesn’t he?”
So I have stopped telling people when he plans to submit. The date has been pushed back and forth many times and I don’t want people to get the impression he’s pushing the submission. I want people to get the impression he is doing his best. He deserves nothing less.
I am ready to celebrate, to live another life. I am ready to sleep in and get to know him all over. I am ready for the summer and our life to show me it was nothing less than worth the wait.