Defining Boundaries

The moving part is finished, and the adjusting part is now in full swing. I'm operating in my new part-time schedule, doing two ten-hour days a week at my old job and three days a week at my own business (which was supposed to be just art, but has ended up including a lot of time devoted to league business, as well).

The first week in my new home, I had a lot of little moments where I would pause suddenly at the start of a task execution, imagining a spinning progress bar over my head and the word "Recalibrating..." That has mostly subsided, and now I'm dealing with another set of change impacts, those of seeing the people I know in very different allotments of time, and not having nearly as much control over my own surroundings.

I came home last week from practice expecting to find Aiden and Shelby playing games with a pair of their friends, but the friends had gone home early. The change was unexpected, and though I recognized it as neither my problem nor a big deal, I still felt disgruntled at not having found what I had expected to find in my own home. Last night, a similar thing happened, in which I came home from a class expecting to find Aiden preparing dinner for Shelby, her friend Posie, and his and Posie's kids. When I got there, everyone was pretty much done with dinner, and Posie's husband was also hanging out.

Again, I recognized it consciously as not being a problem, but couldn't help feeling put out. I did realize eventually that making the kids wait until 8:30 for dinner was maybe not the best plan and managed not to take it personally. After the guests went home, Aiden still hadn't so much as touched me, and I pointed it out. He said he had tried to hug me when I walked in the door, but I had seemed grumpy and not wanting to be touched, so he just handed me food and sat back down. I didn't remember that interaction.

This conversation continued for a few more minutes, and then there was silence. In which Aiden still had not actually touched me. My primary love language is physical touch, so avoiding touching me is something I tend to read as very insulting.

"This is your opportunity to fix this," I finally said, smacking him lightly on the side of the head a few times, "And you're missing it."

"Don't hit me in the head," he said, turning to look me full in the face. I paused. There was an intensity to his voice that surprised me.

"Really," I finally said. "What are you going to do?" Some part of me wanted to know, but the part controlling my hands decided it was a bad idea.

"Just. Don't," he said. He wasn't yelling, and he wasn't quite angry, but I honestly didn't know what might happen if I pushed. I desperately wanted to find out, but for just a moment, I was afraid.

We stared each other down for several breaths, until Shelby said, "You know what that makes me want to do?" and I started laughing.

He caught me alone a few minutes later and gave me a long kiss.

"I apologize for hitting you in the head," I said. "I'm sorry."

"And I'm sorry if I didn't make it clear that I wanted to hug you," he replied. I appreciated the apology, but I was excited about something else.

"Thank you for showing me a boundary," I said. "It's good to know where those are."

"Usually you approach them but back away," he said. "And I don't see a point in snapping at someone for just 'tap-tapping' on the wall."

"But sometimes that's what I'm looking for," I said. "I want to know in no uncertain terms that that's where I am."

Thinking about it again later, the more succinct explanation is that if I back away from a boundary before he's shown me where it is, it feels like he's willing to take more disrespect than I'm willing to dish. And that leads to further disrespect. But it would be pretty easy for him to push the balance back.

Have I mentioned he's hot when he's angry with me...?