I had a fight with the sub tonight. At an event, no less. I’m angry and afraid and confused and he’s out in the garage, apparently deciding if he wants to stay in this relationship.
I could go into who was right and who was wrong on each particular point, but it doesn’t matter. It was a clusterfuck of issues that are not new to tonight.
I’m sitting in my room, compulsively cleaning, interspersed with staring off into space. I can’t be oblivious to where the roots of this behavior lie; my father was a clean freak, and whether or not someone was worthy of even basic human level respect was dictated by the cleanliness of their home/room. My mother was/is a hoarder, and he berrated us for years.
I guess it’s not surprising that I am awaiting the pronouncent of the fate of our relationship by frantically cleaning. There is still a huge part of me that believes, deep down, that if I just clean up my mess, I won’t be abandoned.
I shouldn’t even call it compulsive cleaning. It’s Abandonment Cleaning.