Wisdom Teeth

It's been nearly three months with Mr. Sick, and I have spent every moment I possibly can with him. He's been out of the hospital for a while now, and in nearly perfect health, with the exception of the aftermath of his wisdom teeth removal yesterday. He asked me to drive him to and from. I didn't realize the care involved when I agreed, but I know I would have agreed even if I had known. Why would I not?

However, upon coming home, my father decided to accost me nearly straight through the doorway. On his way out, he turned to me and wagged his finger, telling me that I have to be more careful. He cited my tendency to leap into situations like this, telling me that I was again treating the boyfriend like a puppy, as my mother complained while I was with him during his second hospital trip. My father told me that I was going to get hurt, and said that he didn't want to have to deal with it. He softened to tell me that I was a giving person, and that he didn't want me giving too much, to which I replied that all I gave was reciprocated. He shook his head and complained that Mr. Sick was not there when I had all the work done on my mouth in December, January, and February. I quickly pointed out that Mr. Sick did not, in fact, even know I existed then, let alone that I was having work done on my mouth and could've used a friendly shoulder. I kept to myself that it was not as if my father was there at any but one of those appointments, as if he had to pick up where the boyfriend slacked off. He was working or playing video games while I drove myself to and from the appointments. Therefore, it was really not something that he had any right to complain about. I also neglected to mention that my boyfriend at the time, one who my father liked, refused to go with me upon the suggestion of a request. Regardless, however, I simply ended up telling my father that he did not know Mr. Sick, he had never met the man and therefore had no right to pass judgement on him. My father conceded as I began to cry and stepped over to hug me to his chest until I told him that he had done a good job.

I told him that I wasn't stupid enough to believe that this guy would stay. I'm not. I hold no illusions that he will stay where everyone else has left. I hold no illusions that anyone will stay. But, as I told my father this morning, I can't live my life in fear of the inevitable pain. I've seen what it does, I've tried to. I can't do it. I told him, too, that I am scared enough on my own of the guillotine that every relationship ends up. I do not need his help being unsure. I told him that I did not understand why he and my mother can't seem to just be happy for me because I am happy with this man for now.

I wonder to myself: is it because I'm never home anymore? Is it fear at the idea of me leaving? Is my father's blow up last night in any way related to my mother's somber mood today? Is he just stressed? My brother has told me that he has gotten worse and worse with his random explosions.

I told my boyfriend about what my father said, about what happened, and told him that staying the weekend was not going to happen because of it. I am worried that I've upset him. I don't want him to worry. Also, I have to admit, I don't want him to throw his hands up and say "Oh no, I am done with this." I'm expecting it any day, and dreading it at the same time. I've been insecure before, but this past week has been horrendous as far as worry is concerned. I am unsure why this is. Could it just be hormones? I am fairly sure that I'll be starting my period soon, and that most likely accounts for my inability to let my father's words go. Maybe it is the insecurity as well, because Mr. Sick makes me ridiculously happy. There is no reason for me to leave him, so all I can do is worry he's leaving me.

Funny how the title only enters here once, isn't it?