In stories and movies and in our thinking, relationships are supposed to "progress".
They become more important, more committed, more intense. There's more time, more emotion, more everything. And then they live happily ever after. Or something.
My relationship is going the other way. Less of all that. And yet I'm supposed to just hang on.
It's not over. It's fine.
But it's shifted from the exotic and entrancing thing it was.
And some days I'm happy with it. Or at least content.
Other days I'm frustrated because I know what it was. I say frustrated, but that includes a sad and angry and resigned. And fearful that it's getting worse faster.
On rare days, it's blissful and that recharges me.
It's complicated I guess.