Love & Marriage

Mr Nice Guy is, if you hadn't understood this from previous posts, the one.
It's been over three months now, and I continue to build faith, trust and love in and for our relationship every single day. There is not one single day that he doesn't surprise me in a positive way. He's strong, intelligent, handsome, and has the patience of a god.
That last bit, by the way, is how one of my close friends explained to me why he'd lasted so long.
My father has taken to calling him 'son', my roommate/big brother of sorts thinks this guy is the best thing since sliced bread, and, well, I think pretty highly of him, too.
I have, as much as I hate to say it, disconnected myself from the local Baha'i community as of late.
Mr Nice Guy and I are talking about attending a Unitarian Universalist service, as he is Christian, and I am Baha'i. I need a community of faith, but I haven't found my comfort with the local Baha'i community, and it is not a group that Mr Nice Guy is able to relax with, either.
I want a marriage that is built on faith- shared faith. We don't have to believe in all of the same things, but, since we can pray together, I would like to be able to make a community of faith something we can both be a part of, rather than something we do as individuals. I want my family to have a spiritual bond, and for our faith to be something we can discuss openly and freely, and not feel divided about as my family did.
Mr Nice Guy and I are very happy together still, though I get the feeling that his family still hasn't quite gotten used to me. I think they're all amazing people, but I am, to say the least, not likely to ever 'fit in' to this family. That doesn't mean I adore them any less, but it is hard to wonder how long it may take them to feel about me the way I do about them. Then again, their family is already formed, it's theirs to protect and defend, theirs to allow people to join or not to. That's not something I've ever experienced, though I wish I had. I want so badly to have that close-knit relationship with a family, but there's simply no way to heal myself, my sister, my dad and my mother and then try to heal the family unit as a whole. That's not something I'm capable of, sadly. Little Sister and I are only just learning to interact with one another without allowing the habits, attitudes and tempraments of our parents to play a dividing role between us. Dad loves us both, but, regardless of fault, this family has a large canyon running through it, and my sister and I are likely going to be the only ones who are ever going to be able to even try to approach it without drowning or dragging someone else down to drown. It hurts.
Mr Nice Guy has one older sister who isn't terribly different than my younger sister, except that she was raised to love her family. His parents have been divorced for a few years now, though I'm not positive Mr Nice Guy has ever completely adapted to that. He has a hard time understanding how his mother could leave once the kids were raised and she'd gotten her degree. I can understand his hurt, but negative emotions aren't the most easily shared in his family, it seems. Both he and his dad have the most quiet, loving personalities, and both of them, it's easy to see, have a hard time not getting walked on. They both also have incredibly strong work ethics. Matt is slowly coming out of his shell, and, I think, I may be helping him in that department. He seems less and less afraid to allow other people to see his funny side that was so rarely open for viewing before recently. More and more, though, he will joke around with my dad and our rooommate (big brother again), and the occasional server at a restaraunt and the like. I'm so proud of him, and so amazed that someone so wonderful could love me.
After abuse and rape, disrespect, being treated poorly and used, divorced, after all the things I've been through, this man still sees something left in me worth his love.
I don't understand it, but I don't want anyone else.
I still talk to Madman- well, we text- from time to time. He's about to deploy. It bugs me, sometimes, that I can still understand what it was I saw in him. That bugs me, but by the same token, I understand why he is the person who was, from where I stood "at my level". It says water seeks it's own level, and, well, he's what I thought that level was. I was comfortable with the pain, the disrespect, the lack of understanding... Of course I was, it's what I know.
That doesn't mean I have to stay at that level.
I'm glad I got away from him. I'm surprised, honestly, that I didn't go back to him. He's told me he's there if I ever want him back... So many ex boyfriends have told me that... But I don't want to go back to that. I didn't mind having to spell out for him what I needed, but going through that, and being told that what I needed 'wasn't him' and, essentially, tough luck... That's just not something I'm okay with. I don't want to hurt like that anymore.
Mr Nice Guy is almost too good to me. He's the sweetest, most loving man I've ever known. He holds me when I cry, he's there for me even if he has no idea what to do- but being there is all I ever needed, anyway. He's given me the security that no man of chaos ever could. I don't know if he'll stay in or get out, I don't know if I'll be an Army wife forever, or how any of this will play out... But, even if I'm poor and clipping coupons to pay for dinner, he's the person I know will make me laugh as he sits next to me, helping me clip coupons. He's the man I want my children to be like.
I've found the one.
I am so grateful.

Dark words

I watched one of those scared straight tv shows tonight. After it was over, I thought to myself that it was too bad they didnt have a similar program for other bad choices people make when they are young, to present them with all the very real possibilities. I remember a doctor asking me when I was getting ready to get my tubes tied, cut and burnt what if I changed my mind later. I didn't want that option, I told her. I didn't want to pass on my problems to my children. Nobody suggested that these "problems" might go away, or might not be what they appeared. Everyone was satisfied with an eighteen year old little girl saying, despite wishing she had managed to give birth to and keep a daughter that was a product of rape, that she didn't want to be able to change her mind. This still blows me away, more with every year that passes.
I got thinking about what I would tell my mother if she ever really wanted the whole truth... It's not very nice. I would tell her that she came by her drinking problem rightfully- but at least her father admitted to having one, even if he never accepted help. She could benefit from taking his example. I would tell her my worst fear in life is becoming her, and I spend every day trying to avoid being anything like her, that I have spent every un-drugged moment of my adult life striving to be as little like her as possible. I don't want to cheat on men who treat me as good as they are humanly capable of. I don't want to drag my children through different mens homes, or separate them from a father who loves them. I don't want to fly into drunken rages, or need to find excuse after excuse because I'm not strong enough to face the reality that my own choices brought me to the place and situation at hand. I don't want to spend the rest of my life a bitter victim, rather than a happy survivor. I pray that nurture is stronger than nature, because my children will inherit some of her genetics. I don't want to see my children make themselves a victim, I want to see them become strong, independent and free thinking individuals who make every choice they are presented with knowing that they are also accepting all the unknowns and consequences that come with that choice. I am scared for my children. All I really want is for them to be better people than I have been.

Growing pains and hiccups

To start with, the title for tonight's post was partially inspired by realizing how hard it is to type on my phone with, you guessed it, the hiccups.
Things with Mr Nice Guy are still wonderful, though the separation time we are facing due to the school he's in is about as frustrating as, well, a case of the hiccups that just won't go away. I am more grateful for him everyday.... Okay, more to follow, hiccups are too much right now.

Same

It's very hard to realize that the man that's been so incredibly much better than all the others so far, is, well, still a dude.
Mr Nice Guy is in a class right now.
I know it runs late.
But, two nights in a row, getting blown off for other students in his class... the same people he sees all day long... especially when I wouldn't even really get to see him for but maybe an hour anyway, well, this hurts.
He didn't even remember to text me when he got out tonight. Well after midnight I finally got the 'oops I forgot' text message, and nothing, really but that he'll see me in the morning.
We've only been together two months.
And we're back to that point where I'm nostalgic for the days I couldn't keep him away if I'd wanted to.
And so it begins, through the eyes of me, the insanity that I am signing up for in loving this man.
I will be an Army widow long before Mr Nice Guy has gone... At this rate, possibly before he and I marry.

Rebel Rose

It feels so fraudulent living this life.
At work, as much as I can manage, I have to play the tough girl. I have to be the hard-ass, the tough one, the chick who never gives up. God help me, I try. My unit got released at noon today, but I had volunteered to do medical coverage for the afternoon event that the senior leadership wanted to put on: a safety ride for those who rode motorcycles in the battalion.
I worked until 1800- 6pm. Fortunately, I was among good people, but, after a morning of text messages from Dad's roommate debating whether the arrangement we had already made on me moving in was a good idea after all (after I had found a bedroom set for the room, no less) and me falling apart over yet another plan to help me gone awry, well, I spent a good chunk of the time between the morning and afternoon parts of my day in tears, and trying my hardest to keep the rage inside and not letting it loose on the people who, while I'm not sure they hadn't earned it, wouldn't understand where it was coming from. Oh, yeah, and today was the first day I forgot to take my anti-depressants before I left for work.
It was a hard morning.
The afternoon was long and tedious- it's been quite some time since I worked that late- though I found the silver lining in the two male Soldiers I was riding in the truck behind the motorcycles with. I think I may have found two friends in them, although, as they're both male, I must remember to avoid latching on to them on a too-personal level.
Here comes the complicated part.
I have friends I can talk to- almost all of them, admittedly, male.
Mr Nice Guy got out of class at 2000 (8pm), which is actually about normal for the class he'll be in for a few weeks, but, instead of wanting to see me and tell me about his first day (we've seen each other daily every chance we've had, and I've been through the course and did what I could to help him prepare) he decided he would have dinner with some guys from his class- who he's been around all day. Oh, and he'll be in class until 2200 (10pm) tomorrow, so he won't have time to see me then, either.
Yes, my feelings are hurt.
No, I don't think he understands that.
Honestly, I don't want him to. I want to be able to handle this hurt on my own, and not expect him to always be there to patch up the day's boo-boos. I have gotten dependent on him, and that bothers me. It bothers me even more knowing he has decided he wants to stay in the Army, and knowing that, if this works, I will be, literally, in the Army's eyes, a dependent. I will be the second-class citizen waiting at home, while he's in whatever part of the world he gets sent to, out of contact for extended and unpredictable amounts of time. And I love him enough that, for him, and knowing what I do now, I would do it, without question.
So I need to learn this now, I need to learn to depend on me, because nobody else will be there all the time to patch up my boo-boos, and it's better to learn this now, rather than when I won't hear from him for maybe months on end...
I don't want to learn this.
But, even more, I don't want to lose him.

And, so, I must learn to pull that tough-girl out even when I'm alone.
I must learn that the soft side of me, the tears, the vulnerability, the painfully complete honesty, have no place out of my control. They are for him and only him to see- not for when it's just me, or I may go seeking comfort, and that could end badly. Not ever, unless he's by my side.
This is not going to be easy.