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What It's Like to Be in a Relationship With a 'Moody Creature' Like Me

Being in relationship with a “moody creature” is hard. I get it. I know. I am one of them and I’m sorry.

Being in relationship — friendship or otherwise — with a moody creature can mean having to put up with extreme everything. It can mean not knowing what to expect, and being in the presence of the biggest joy in the world, the most brilliantly chaotic energy and the most elaborate ideas ever. It also, however, can mean being the recipient of distance, having to bear the silence and separation that is the byproduct of a heavy mood, and wondering what you did to cause it (side note: you probably did nothing).

I apologize to those in the past who I’ve driven away. Because that’s what moods do: they can drive people to the breaking point, at which the common folk get tired of it and leave. The ones who stay are the strong ones, the faithful ones, the ones who really care for you, despite the inconsistency.

The ones who leave… I can’t blame you for going. You’re not weak or uncaring, you’re just looking out for yourself. And I’m sorry for having to make you choose. Sometimes I pushed you out the door (literally). Sometimes you just faded away. Sometimes I told you to leave — I rarely meant it. The truth is that, in a relationship with a “moody creature,” there are at least three players. One: me. Two: you. Three: the moods. I’ve had two things said to me over the years that made me realize how frustrating it must be to be the “other person” in a moody creature’s life.

The first was years ago, before I even had a handle on how big my moods actually were. I cultivated moods at the time, and actually enjoyed being mysterious and unreachable. I suppose it was more obvious to a close friend than it was to myself how damaging this might have been. She said, and I quote, “I hope you find someone who can handle your moods someday.” Um… OK, thank you. I remember smirking upon hearing this, and letting her out of my car (we were parked).

The other thing, said to me not long ago, was a little harder to handle. It was an honest declaration by someone whom I deeply care for and respect. And though it was a huge slap in the face, there is not really a whole lot that I can do about it — what he said is definitely valid.

“You scare me, honestly. I’m afraid of you.”

Afraid of me, with so much love to give? Afraid of the bigness of my feelings, or the fluidity, or the fact that you think what I feel for you is just passing, and will leave you broken and confused? Afraid of me shifting? The way you never know if I’m fully in, or not? And then, “You get rid of people.” Damn. Hurtful, but true, to an extent. My fellow “moody creatures” may know what I’m talking about.

To all the lovers whom I’ve discarded before, I am sorry.

To the friends who have left, feeling that my friendship was just too much to deal with, I am sorry. To the friends I’ve just faded away from, I am sorry. Most likely I needed to re-group, and it had nothing to do with you. To my future partner, the one who sees my love and feels its bigness and knows its very bigness comes from its complexity, I am sorry, too. (I am also excited to give you the gift of me, which is a very cool little exciting package).

To the ones who have stayed, love and gratitude from this very colorful heart. Being in relationship with a moody creature is tough. I would not want it, nor do I think I would be able to last very long in the role of the “other.” But as all moody creatures know — and the ones who have stayed know — we are worth it. Our affection is so strong. The way we see the world is big and expansive and eye-opening. We feel things beyond the norm. We adore things and people and ideas with a passion. We are creative and exciting and driven. We put our hearts into things, even though the threat of brokenness is always just right there.

We understand rejection, and we may come across as pushy or needy because we really don’t want you to leave, though our words or actions may suggest otherwise. We distance ourselves both to protect our energies during a low spell, and to minimize the pain of you potentially getting fed up and leaving, as we are so used to that very thing happening. But never for a moment think our love is not real. It is so, so real. It may take us a while to feel it, express it or reciprocate it, but once we are there, we are fully there.

It doesn’t matter how edgy my tongue gets during an irritable mood, or how loose I can seem during an ecstatic one. It doesn’t matter how much I need to be by myself during a quiet mood, or how I can’t get enough of you during a hypersexual one. What matters is that, if you’ve made it through the cycles, you’re in. This is the point at which us moody creatures need you to not leave, the time when a deeply-rooted relationship has the potential to form. By now, you’ve seen each one of the magical array of our colors and there is nothing left to hide.

Sadly, by that time, the door may already be swinging behind you.

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Thinkstock photo via amoklv

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