Hello. Ragdoll here.

It’s been a year and three days since Andrea first came out to stay. And our lives (at least mine, I can’t speak for her) have finally settled down and “normalized.” We spend about the same amount of time out, she has her little schedules and hobbies, and I have been able to get back to mine. I’m still kind of trying to get comfy with it all, but that will come in time, I’m sure.

The one big question I get from my friends who know about her and I is “Why did you give her autonomy?”

Frankly…fear. I feared that if I fought her back for time, she’d get angry and fight back and as each of us could make the other’s life miserable. If I gave her her time, and her ability to do what she wanted…we could work together. She didn’t seem hurtful, she didn’t seem demanding. And there wasn’t any need to make her that way.

We’ve since worked out a schedule, she gets as much non-work time as I do out now, and in the end, she’s been able to help me in ways I don’t do easily. After offering her a job, and she declined it, she offered to take care of the house, something I hate doing. And after finding out she doesn’t have the problems with numbers that I do, she now is responsible for our budget, and she’s managing it really well. I suck at budgeting, she’s a natural. By not fighting her for time, and letting her live, she’s making my life a bit easier.

There is one this that’s still kind of itchy. Quite literally. I take care of groceries on our first paycheck of the month, and she does on the last. And we do it off a shared grocery list. And when she goes shopping, she gets dressed in her clothes. When it’s time for us to get the frozen foods I want, she’ll put me back in to get mine. In her clothes.

I hate wearing other people’s clothes.

And she has her own style that isn’t near to my own. She likes clothes with texture and feels like a hug, which feels itchy and encasing to me. I had to spend a few hours in her clothes a few weeks ago, because she had the morning out, and I was the one who was going to drive her home…and there wasn’t a place to change in between. It feels so wierd. But she also wears my clothes, and she doesn’t complain, so a few minutes/hours in her clothes isn’t that bad.

More and more, we’re spending time out “together.” I’ll be out doing something and let her out for a minute or two to enjoy a view, or to see something cool, or experience a thing. And vice versa, she’ll do that for me.

We’re finally fitting together well. Which is good. I don’t think she’s going anywhere any time soon. But at the same time, I’m glad she’s here. Something that started in fear, isn’t just a new normal anymore, but a good friend.

–Ragdoll