Technically, I slept two hours tonight, but I’ve been up since at least 330 am, unable to fall back asleep. Now, it’s nearly 630 am and I know sleep will never come.
I am extremely stressed out about everything in my life — money, especially — and I hate that I am about to start making dangerous compromises again.
Today, I will be seeing some of my favorite people to talk work stuff. I am meeting the Chef for coffee at 11 am, the Think Tank Exec and PR Junior for drinks to make a business introduction between them. That’s the positive stuff.
The negative stuff is almost entirely money related and I am glitching hardcore. I am contemplating what I can sell that I own. I am thinking about pawning jewelry. I have no idea what to do as I’ve STILL not been paid for work I did 10 months ago and I’ve not received the thousands of dollars I am owed since November or that I was promised in February.
I am afraid I am dying as I’ve not been to the doctor in a while.
And, I am starting to resent caring about the Bon Vivant more than I should. Despite knowing that he’d be silent for weeks while he was gone, I listened to him when he said he’d be checking in. He never does. Never.
He contacted me twice in a little over a week. Neither substantive. Both cute. He let me know he’d landed via drawing and then reached out two days later.
I see him on facebook and I have sent him messages every few days. I know he is checking out my stuff, as he always does. I post something nearly daily, and it is clear to him my life has continued on: shots of bands I’ve seen, parties I am attending, playtime with the dog, etc.
We are talking without talking.
I hate it.
I am worried he’s in trouble. I am worried he’s depressed and alone. I am worried he’s backsliding.
I am also worried that we’re done. But then I always think that and we never are.
I was psychologically prepared to be without him for a month, until we spent all of that quality time together and he indicated he’d call, vent, etc. and wanted me to reach out.
I’d like him healthy and back in my life as a more regular person. I want me healthy and back in my life as a more regular person.
Ridiculously, he has inspired deep change within me because he does push me out of my comfort zone and, more importantly, he holds me accountable in ways no one else does. He forces me to answer for everything in the way my friends and family all let slide.
He’s my conscience, my little jiminy cricket, reminding me always to hold myself to a higher standard, to be better, to fight for what I want and need.
As insane as that sounds, he’s an excellent partner to me in the precise way I need.
Tonight, I had dinner with a ridiculously successful friend of mine, who retired from BFD’s profession early and who married a woman who has become an internationally successful tech executive right out of college. I’ve known them for more than a decade.
We were talking about a mutual client to whom he introduced me and he was comparing the conversation we needed to have with the client to a golf coach and how as a coach, you have to tell someone the same thing in 20 different ways before they hear it in the way that makes sense to them.
BV says things to me in a way that makes sense to me. I get it when he says it and his coaching . . . and a lot of it is coaching . . . is effective because I hear him.
Other people say the same thing. Hell, I say the same thing. But when he says it, I get it and I act on it.
I know some, if not all, of you, find my relationship with the Bon Vivant mystifying at best. I’ve read your comments, and your occasional email, wondering what in the hell I am doing with him, what I see, what I could possibly gain from this relationship. It comes down to the fact that he speaks to me in a way I hear, he loves me enough to want me to be a better me for me, and he knows intuitively how to manage my worst behaviors.
And I behave deplorably at times. I can be awful.
In fact, he manages me far better than I manage him.
My coaching of him is highly uncritical, trusting that he knows what he’s doing and then helping him pick up the pieces when he’s wrong. One of the reasons I have so much access to him is that I love and trust him to do the right thing. Under my influence, he is better and healthier, confining his worst habits to splurges and not lifestyle. He knows we’re slumming when we party like mad, as that’s not who we are.
His forgiveness of his friends and their party bullshit — where we were disturbed at the lakehouse — was as simple as “that’s who they are and all they have; it’s not who we are.” And he’s right. It’s who we can choose to be, but sitting with him at a favorite sushi restaurant, drinking excellent martinis, as we worked though a work exercise was real life stuff for us. That’s who we actually are. Collaborating on work, that’s who we are. Packing him for a trip, that’s who we are. Cooking and planning future day trips, that’s who we are. Making ourselves better for our own benefit and for the other’s, that’s who we are.
When we were first dating, he stopped doing drugs. I had not asked. I had never judged. It made him less serious to me, but I had never said a word about it. Instead, he chose to give it up, to report to me that he had done so and was continuing to do so, and my approval was all he needed to stay on that path until stress and anxiety and professional setbacks as he was trying to return to work knocked him back.
He makes himself better for himself, but he also does it for me. He wants me to be proud of him in the same way he wants his family to be proud of him. In the same way he wants to be proud of himself again.
I feel the same way. Exactly the same way, as a matter of fact.
When the Bon Vivant tells me something, I hear him, despite hearing it from a thousand other people.