I figured it out. After very very little sleep.
I don’t believe this person is serious about breaking Noah’s legs. I think he wants to say it so that he can seem intimidating but he wouldn’t do it.
Saying that kind of thing to/about my family scares me to absolute pieces.
And I get to be scared like that, not because he would genuinely do something like that and he is giving a warning… but because he wants to posture.
That’s a problem.
That’s treating my emotions like a ball to be whacked around. He didn’t say it to me, about me, or in front of me. So why am I such a self centered piece of shit?
Because Noah is my whole fucking world and I do not know what I would do if someone were hurting him.
I don’t think I’d get as upset if someone threatened to break my legs. You don’t fuck with my Noah.
I think I would feel… differently upset if I thought there was actual threat present. I don’t. I’m not trying to imply that this person is dangerous or a serious problem. I truly don’t believe him to be.
But there are jokes I’m not ok with.
Noah and I spent a while yesterday talking about indebtedness. What we owe each other. Whether we are truly earning from each other the kind of care we will need as decrepit old people. We are both highly transactional people. Are we building up enough of a debt? What does that even mean?
Noah is afraid he isn’t doing enough to earn my eternal gratitude so I stay no matter what. I think he underestimates what feeding me means.
But he’s scared. Like a human being. He’s scared I’ll leave if things get hard. That’s a reasonable fear. I’m a selfish motherfucker.
But let’s wait and see, mmm? I’ve stayed 10 years so far.
I moved into this house just before I turned 25. It will take a very long time before I have built up enough feeling of stored safety to feel like I can run away from what I have here. If ever. I don’t know.