Posts
I don't know. The only comfort is that nobody knows what the hell they're doing. Nobody's got the answers, or can give the perfect advice, or can fix anything for anyone else. I'm definitely not pretending to be graceful or appropriate.
My heart feels this way. It feels this way and sometimes I act on things without stopping myself, with little foresight (because I have none), and I can't hide my feelings from anyone.
So Noah texted me earlier this week, to say hi basically, but also because he was clearly thinking about me. I welcomed his conversation and told him I was happy to hear from him, and that of course I've been thinking about him. We chatted a few minutes, and that was it. In my head, nothing has changed, it's still a hopeless situation with no future between us, and I'm centered and collected.
But that's not really how I feel. I feel like my heart is exploding for him, I'm angry that he obviously cares for me and misses me, but that he's scared of a relationship, and I crave his tenderness and attention.
That craving overcame me, and I felt like really I could meet him for drinks to catch up and that it would be platonic with little trouble, because I really just missed his company and wanted to know about how he's been. I text him after work a few days ago, and invited him to meet me the next night, and didn't hear from him. I grimaced as I told a friend that I hoped he didn't reply, so it wouldn't end up being the obvious temptation that I might not be able to withstand. I continued not hearing from him that night, and imagined that I might have lucked out.
Well the next day he did accept my invitation. And he seemed to be genuinely looking forward to it.
I met him at the Shelter, picked right up where we left off, talked cheerfully and easily as old friends, and at some point he mentioned his dismay that a friend of his had given up on a relationship. He emphasized how much he believed in relationships, and I stopped him. "This...coming from Noah?" He said he believed in them, he just didn't know what to do with a relationship. I left it alone.
After a few hours it was obviously time for us to call it a night. He walked me to my car, and I gave him a hug, which I neglected to pull away from. So we stood there, for at least ten minutes, embracing. We exchanged "I've really missed you"s and tightened our arms around one another. He kneaded his hands into my back, and I worked my fingers into his tight neck muscles. I said I was sorry for still holding on to him, and he said he wasn't about to stop me. He sighed, and then said, "I'm half-tempted to suggest that we finish this backrub the right way at my house." For a minute, I didn't say anything, but then I said, "If I say yes, will you say yes?"
"If you say yes, I'll definitely say yes. It might be a huge mistake, but I would say yes." He told me. So we pulled apart and agreed to meet at his place.
Noah has always fallen over himself to do kind and generous things for me. He insisted that I get a massage first, because he "owed" me. It was so appreciated, because I really did need the work on my muscles, and because I could feel his heart pouring onto me. And at the end of it, I just happened to be shirtless. And then it was his turn, and I got to touch him again, and care for him and tend to him.
Being intimate with Noah has always been better when we were more sober. I felt very present, because I wanted to experience every detail. I needed it, his touch, his embrace, his passion for me. I needed to have him wrapped around me as he fell asleep.
I don't pretend that this means anything for us, as if we might get back together. He's still obviously in a bromance with his friends, and they serve as easy insulation in a pinch (read: when the fear of getting too close kicks in). But I'm sorting it out again, from a much more complicated angle, because that whole night it was very obvious that this man loves me. He mentioned in many ways how he likes people like me for a host of flattering reasons. He said we definitely need to hang out more often. He kept my self-portrait that I sneakily took on his phone a day or so after he got it. He mentioned how he was telling his family about my brother's woes with a recall part for his hybrid, and how they had a big discussion about it. He paid very close attention to my subtle stretching out my aching back, and insisted I explain why it hurt so much. He told me how I ought to meet his mom, because she and I could relate to one another about our passion for art history. He knows me well, he gets me, and he takes care of me.
And dammit I'm so angry that he's afraid of a serious relationship with me. How can my feelings for him change? I told him that night, "Noah, it's you. It's you. You don't like me saying this, but you're special." And I mean that. And of course he balked at it, but it's true.
Maybe I've fucked myself over by not being strong. I don't know how I'm going to replace a man like him. I don't know how I'd ever hope to trump the incredibly high standards he has set for men I date. Hopefully this isn't going to leave me on the brink of tears for another two months. At least the communication between us is a little more forthcoming, at least in the areas where it wasn't before.
I'm angry that the situation isn't any different. Well, maybe it's different in some ways, like I drew my line in the sand, and I got things off my chest I should have done ages earlier. But also, maybe he has gotten to see what his life is like without me in it, and how I was a good thing for him.
Anyway, the energy I poured unabashedly into him and his life and his social circle I am now reserving more for myself, my friends, my garden, and my students. I'm dating a little and I've already seen how other men still can't compare to him. I am trying to honor my center and my need to be centered. I'm not going to obsess over this heartache forever, and I'm going to let myself heal, dammit.
But I think I can already see that I'll be in love with this man all my life. Whether that means anything for our paths down the line, who's to say? I'm nobody and I've got no answers. I just want to love and I'm trying to survive my pursuit of it.
8.30.2014
8.18.2014
reemergence
Sadness has a particular weight, a palpable flavor, and a noticeable drag on one's momentum. If one is fortunate enough to have supportive, compassionate friends who forgive the momentary lapse in bubbliness and positive outlook, who encourage one to embrace the sadness for its lessons and transformative properties, one might emerge from sadness a better, stronger person.
A long time ago...well, let's say it was just a year ago, actually, I went to the plant nursery and bought a large milkweed in a pot. It had a thriving ant colony in the soil, it had blooms, and mature, ripe pods with fluffy seeds poking out. I was so excited to start attracting native pollinators, in this case queen and monarch butterflies, to my back yard, which at the time was still at an undecided level of productivity.
I collected the seeds from the pod once I got home, put them in a baggie, and waited eagerly for signs of caterpillar consumption. One day I found one! A lovely little white-, black-, and yellow-striped creature clinging to a long, narrow stem. I imagined this was just the beginning of a prolific butterfly raising farm in my tiny patch of earth.
The next time I checked, the caterpillar was gone, with no evidence of its transformation or clues to its whereabouts. In fact, what I found was much worse--some of my plant was actually gone! It was clipped at the base of the stem, a few inches from the soil. Each day that I checked, more was gone, until I finally discovered that a wood rat had been destroying half of my back yard. After a number of months, I was able to trap her and relocate her to the desert to make a life for herself that was less pesky to humans. But my garden had taken a serious hit while she foraged daily; cactuses, pepper plants, okra sprouts, agave, and various other things were either severely damaged or completely demolished. The milkweed was gone.
I had given up on my yard for a while; I wouldn't go out there and some other sad events made sitting in my own little space rather unappealing. Grim. My recycling overflow was basically the only purpose my back patio served for months.
Then spring came around. The temperatures warmed up a little bit, some sunlight started making it over the building, and shining directly onto the soil. I got inspired to start sowing seeds, watering, and cleaning it up a bit. Feeling impatient for a result, I increased my efforts and planted more seeds, in a greater variety, and watered longer. I planted the old milkweed seeds in the original pot with its compatible soil. I put all manner of vegetable seeds in pots and in the amended soil I made, and I started composting my fruit and veggie scraps in the least productive section of my yard. I kept watering. I tidied up a bit.
I saw a few sprouts right away, actually. The morning glories came first; they're so reliable and they volunteer themselves every summer. My squash and green beans burst out of the ground. My succulents flourished. I spent more and more time barefoot and tending to these little green organisms who rewarded my attention with sturdy stems, broad, lovely leaves, and rapid growth. My compost heap erupted cantaloupe sprouts, and the vines quickly and vigorously spread everywhere. I was inspired to plant more seeds, including watermelon, okra, peppers, tomatoes, and succulent clones. My yard was taking off!
It wasn't without hope, it wasn't just resting, recovering. Taking the necessary time to deal with difficult conditions. It was always going to rebound, in due time, with the right investment of love, attention, and resources.
I've been planting new seeds in my love life, too. There was a little lag time, which made me worry that I wasn't putting the right vibes out there, that I wasn't being a positive magnet for my own experiences, but really I guess the seeds just needed time to germinate. Time and the right combination of love.
My garden suffered when I stopped cultivating it; I could very possibly have grown winter vegetables, herbs, and fruits, if I had tried anything at all. Instead, all I could focus on was what was lost and grieve over that loss. But when I finally poured my loving energy into it, it flourished and shined love at me in return.
My heart has also suffered these past couple of months that I have been grieving. My worries and doubts took over like weeds in my untended plot of land. I neglected fighting them off, moving them out of my healthy space. I took time to let my plot rest during the difficult conditions, and when it was time I began removing those weeds of doubt and fear. I started showering my heart with love again. I planted seeds of hope and gratitude, and trusted that they would survive. I watered and they returned. And now my heart is a healthy, lush, green garden of love and optimism again. My garden is an extension of my heart. Those peaceful vines and herbs and shrubs and tiny beasts occupying that tiny space are inseparable from my heart.
That love energy flows through and throughout. The energy pools and sometimes is impeded but only needs some tending to flow freely again.
A long time ago...well, let's say it was just a year ago, actually, I went to the plant nursery and bought a large milkweed in a pot. It had a thriving ant colony in the soil, it had blooms, and mature, ripe pods with fluffy seeds poking out. I was so excited to start attracting native pollinators, in this case queen and monarch butterflies, to my back yard, which at the time was still at an undecided level of productivity.
I collected the seeds from the pod once I got home, put them in a baggie, and waited eagerly for signs of caterpillar consumption. One day I found one! A lovely little white-, black-, and yellow-striped creature clinging to a long, narrow stem. I imagined this was just the beginning of a prolific butterfly raising farm in my tiny patch of earth.
The next time I checked, the caterpillar was gone, with no evidence of its transformation or clues to its whereabouts. In fact, what I found was much worse--some of my plant was actually gone! It was clipped at the base of the stem, a few inches from the soil. Each day that I checked, more was gone, until I finally discovered that a wood rat had been destroying half of my back yard. After a number of months, I was able to trap her and relocate her to the desert to make a life for herself that was less pesky to humans. But my garden had taken a serious hit while she foraged daily; cactuses, pepper plants, okra sprouts, agave, and various other things were either severely damaged or completely demolished. The milkweed was gone.
I had given up on my yard for a while; I wouldn't go out there and some other sad events made sitting in my own little space rather unappealing. Grim. My recycling overflow was basically the only purpose my back patio served for months.
Then spring came around. The temperatures warmed up a little bit, some sunlight started making it over the building, and shining directly onto the soil. I got inspired to start sowing seeds, watering, and cleaning it up a bit. Feeling impatient for a result, I increased my efforts and planted more seeds, in a greater variety, and watered longer. I planted the old milkweed seeds in the original pot with its compatible soil. I put all manner of vegetable seeds in pots and in the amended soil I made, and I started composting my fruit and veggie scraps in the least productive section of my yard. I kept watering. I tidied up a bit.
I saw a few sprouts right away, actually. The morning glories came first; they're so reliable and they volunteer themselves every summer. My squash and green beans burst out of the ground. My succulents flourished. I spent more and more time barefoot and tending to these little green organisms who rewarded my attention with sturdy stems, broad, lovely leaves, and rapid growth. My compost heap erupted cantaloupe sprouts, and the vines quickly and vigorously spread everywhere. I was inspired to plant more seeds, including watermelon, okra, peppers, tomatoes, and succulent clones. My yard was taking off!
It wasn't without hope, it wasn't just resting, recovering. Taking the necessary time to deal with difficult conditions. It was always going to rebound, in due time, with the right investment of love, attention, and resources.
I've been planting new seeds in my love life, too. There was a little lag time, which made me worry that I wasn't putting the right vibes out there, that I wasn't being a positive magnet for my own experiences, but really I guess the seeds just needed time to germinate. Time and the right combination of love.
My garden suffered when I stopped cultivating it; I could very possibly have grown winter vegetables, herbs, and fruits, if I had tried anything at all. Instead, all I could focus on was what was lost and grieve over that loss. But when I finally poured my loving energy into it, it flourished and shined love at me in return.
My heart has also suffered these past couple of months that I have been grieving. My worries and doubts took over like weeds in my untended plot of land. I neglected fighting them off, moving them out of my healthy space. I took time to let my plot rest during the difficult conditions, and when it was time I began removing those weeds of doubt and fear. I started showering my heart with love again. I planted seeds of hope and gratitude, and trusted that they would survive. I watered and they returned. And now my heart is a healthy, lush, green garden of love and optimism again. My garden is an extension of my heart. Those peaceful vines and herbs and shrubs and tiny beasts occupying that tiny space are inseparable from my heart.
That love energy flows through and throughout. The energy pools and sometimes is impeded but only needs some tending to flow freely again.
8.04.2014
rehearsal
Please forgive me for this impersonal delivery--I ought to just talk to you like I always should have, but I'm scared of talking feelings and clamming up or stumbling over my words. I've got no guts. I'm an emotional person and I'm terrified that I'll cry my eyes out if I pour my heart out. This has been a month of painful heartache for me, since I'm just enamored with you but it seemed one-sided and I felt foolish for giving you my heart when you didn't want it. I adore your friendship, and had anticipated taking some time and space to pull myself together so that I could be a good friend to you, but seeing you everywhere and hearing from you has confused my heart, and I worry that I'm misunderstanding and misinterpreting your attention. I love being in your presence, and I'm so sorry that I do not have the courage to simply express something this important. I miss you like crazy, but I thought you made it clear that you had priorities that did not involve having a girlfriend. I wasn't expecting to change your mind on my behalf, but I realized that that's what I really wanted from you--your heart. I owe you so much more than this awful text message, but I am in limbo and cannot make sense of this in my head.
7.02.2014
recognition
My mom has been prompting me to write this for over a week, an entry about the positives and the good times so that I can etch into my mind that there was a bright side to this deep sense of loss that I'm feeling.
Noah is a wonderful man. He is a good and intuitive friend, he is an exceptionally hard working employee, he gets his affairs taken care of and he shows an obvious sense of allegiance to his family. He is talented in countless areas--musically, with mechanics and electronics, scientifically, and in all manner of recreational sports and activities--profoundly so. He can fix anything, or will cheerfully attempt to. He is generous and friendly and kind to friends and strangers. He notices details and is a brilliant problem solver.
Noah has incorporated me into his entire social world without abandon, sharing fishing and camping trips, social parties and get-togethers, sports events, relaxing at home and doing chores or various repair projects around the house. He has involved me in his many excursions and tales afterwards. I've been a part of the regular events in his life, and he in mine, increasingly for the last six months.
I have gotten to do a lot of amazing things I wouldn't have otherwise had the opportunity to do, like re-learn how to fish, see and camp in some beautiful areas in Arizona, and learn how to confidently shoot pistols, rifles, and shotguns. I got to work on his old Suburban with him and never felt underestimated or incapable of offering any sort of help.
Noah stood up for me when I felt like his friend was just unnecessarily antagonistic with me. He's been honest with me about his family, his past, his job, and his relationship preferences. He gets my sense of humor, and respects my confidence and independence. He has set a wonderful example of a light-hearted disposition with a high tolerance for stress and a very accepting attitude of the individuality of people...he is entirely non-judgmental.
So the unfortunate side of it is that I found this man whom I really think the world of, and he's made his mind up long before I ever found him that having a girlfriend just isn't his thing. He told me this back in November and then again sometime in January or February, and then again in March or April, that he just doesn't want a relationship. I really thought that I was okay with leaving it at that, and that my feelings for him could just stay where they were. But I became much more attached and he didn't. When I asked him a couple weeks ago what his feelings for me were, he repeated that he wasn't in this relationship on a serious level and didn't see himself really wanting a long-term girlfriend. I tried to wrap up the conversation with my continued interest in dating him casually, but trying to re-calibrate my feelings for him to something less has been an impossible struggle and he didn't attempt to reassure me with any behavior. In fact, I read his body language as becoming more distant and platonic. He definitely reassures me that he things I'm so cool, which is why he bent his own rules and invited me into his life for this time.
But being an exception to someone's personal rule is not for me. He's not enthusiastic about my company any longer, and often seems like he's avoiding my company in favor of his guy friends', and I am simply not interested in being a crumb-taker.
Naturally, I'm hurting, and trying to sort out what feels like grief and loss and what feels like anger over being dismissed. It's a damn shame, because I think he's the very best guy I've ever dated, and other than his habit of smoking and drinking beer far more than he should, I can't seem to find fault with him. He's my kind of man, and I'm so deeply disappointed to lose him...even though I can picture a possibly platonic friendship sometime in the future.
But here's the handful of important lessons I've learned (or am starting to learn) from this experience:
1. I finally had a healthy relationship with an emotionally healthy (and mostly baggage-free) man who treated me well
2. I attracted agood great man
3. Throughout much of this relationship, I enjoyed an unbridled sense of contentment with and respect for this man
4. I'm convinced that I did not make any mistakes, and that my feelings of love were real and well-founded. I treated him the way I should have and I maintained my own personal and social life that did not depend on him. I do not think that I misinterpreted his affections, either, because for a long time he embraced me passionately and--I believe--sincerely
5. As part of my own personal growth, I am more able to recognize when a relationship is not providing the things I need from it, and am able to say that I can have healthier expectations from relationships and maintain healthier boundaries
6. *This one I am still trying to internalize* There are good men out there, with whom I will have incredible compatibility and chemistry, and I will absolutely find one who falls in love with me while I am also falling in love with him....
I think this last one is a vital lesson for me to learn, because for a long time I have feared that my past experiences permanently warped my ability to be loved by someone else. I can look at my experience with Noah as a practice round, where I got pretty good at maneuvering a relationship. The universe is right on schedule, remember? This is a key event in my timeline.
It was not a mistake that I loved him. He is a good man to love. Maybe some day his perspective of being attached and having responsibility to a partner will change, and he'll genuinely want a relationship to last. It will likely not be me, but I hope he's learned a lot by being with me these last many months. This is the longest romance I've had in years, the healthiest I've had in my life.
I can only see this experience as a gift, and for that I am grateful.
Noah is a wonderful man. He is a good and intuitive friend, he is an exceptionally hard working employee, he gets his affairs taken care of and he shows an obvious sense of allegiance to his family. He is talented in countless areas--musically, with mechanics and electronics, scientifically, and in all manner of recreational sports and activities--profoundly so. He can fix anything, or will cheerfully attempt to. He is generous and friendly and kind to friends and strangers. He notices details and is a brilliant problem solver.
Noah has incorporated me into his entire social world without abandon, sharing fishing and camping trips, social parties and get-togethers, sports events, relaxing at home and doing chores or various repair projects around the house. He has involved me in his many excursions and tales afterwards. I've been a part of the regular events in his life, and he in mine, increasingly for the last six months.
I have gotten to do a lot of amazing things I wouldn't have otherwise had the opportunity to do, like re-learn how to fish, see and camp in some beautiful areas in Arizona, and learn how to confidently shoot pistols, rifles, and shotguns. I got to work on his old Suburban with him and never felt underestimated or incapable of offering any sort of help.
Noah stood up for me when I felt like his friend was just unnecessarily antagonistic with me. He's been honest with me about his family, his past, his job, and his relationship preferences. He gets my sense of humor, and respects my confidence and independence. He has set a wonderful example of a light-hearted disposition with a high tolerance for stress and a very accepting attitude of the individuality of people...he is entirely non-judgmental.
So the unfortunate side of it is that I found this man whom I really think the world of, and he's made his mind up long before I ever found him that having a girlfriend just isn't his thing. He told me this back in November and then again sometime in January or February, and then again in March or April, that he just doesn't want a relationship. I really thought that I was okay with leaving it at that, and that my feelings for him could just stay where they were. But I became much more attached and he didn't. When I asked him a couple weeks ago what his feelings for me were, he repeated that he wasn't in this relationship on a serious level and didn't see himself really wanting a long-term girlfriend. I tried to wrap up the conversation with my continued interest in dating him casually, but trying to re-calibrate my feelings for him to something less has been an impossible struggle and he didn't attempt to reassure me with any behavior. In fact, I read his body language as becoming more distant and platonic. He definitely reassures me that he things I'm so cool, which is why he bent his own rules and invited me into his life for this time.
But being an exception to someone's personal rule is not for me. He's not enthusiastic about my company any longer, and often seems like he's avoiding my company in favor of his guy friends', and I am simply not interested in being a crumb-taker.
Naturally, I'm hurting, and trying to sort out what feels like grief and loss and what feels like anger over being dismissed. It's a damn shame, because I think he's the very best guy I've ever dated, and other than his habit of smoking and drinking beer far more than he should, I can't seem to find fault with him. He's my kind of man, and I'm so deeply disappointed to lose him...even though I can picture a possibly platonic friendship sometime in the future.
But here's the handful of important lessons I've learned (or am starting to learn) from this experience:
1. I finally had a healthy relationship with an emotionally healthy (and mostly baggage-free) man who treated me well
2. I attracted a
3. Throughout much of this relationship, I enjoyed an unbridled sense of contentment with and respect for this man
4. I'm convinced that I did not make any mistakes, and that my feelings of love were real and well-founded. I treated him the way I should have and I maintained my own personal and social life that did not depend on him. I do not think that I misinterpreted his affections, either, because for a long time he embraced me passionately and--I believe--sincerely
5. As part of my own personal growth, I am more able to recognize when a relationship is not providing the things I need from it, and am able to say that I can have healthier expectations from relationships and maintain healthier boundaries
6. *This one I am still trying to internalize* There are good men out there, with whom I will have incredible compatibility and chemistry, and I will absolutely find one who falls in love with me while I am also falling in love with him....
I think this last one is a vital lesson for me to learn, because for a long time I have feared that my past experiences permanently warped my ability to be loved by someone else. I can look at my experience with Noah as a practice round, where I got pretty good at maneuvering a relationship. The universe is right on schedule, remember? This is a key event in my timeline.
It was not a mistake that I loved him. He is a good man to love. Maybe some day his perspective of being attached and having responsibility to a partner will change, and he'll genuinely want a relationship to last. It will likely not be me, but I hope he's learned a lot by being with me these last many months. This is the longest romance I've had in years, the healthiest I've had in my life.
I can only see this experience as a gift, and for that I am grateful.
5.30.2014
passion or dedication?
My very best and dearest friend Lisa tends to offer me the clearest perspectives and much-needed advice, especially when I find myself poised on the edge of another emotional cliff, terrified and desperate.
She reminds me, most often, that I tend to rerun those piercing doubts when I'm being flooded with fertility hormones (progesterone? estrogen? concentrated female panic?), and that this is a storm that is pouring directly onto my head, blinding me to its temporary nature and its imminent cyclical return. It's still impossible to keep from getting wet, in the midst of such downpours, but I'm grateful for the suggestions to pull out an umbrella and wait...because she's always right. She hears the same misgivings and fears, she knows my ups and downs, and she's well-aware of my prior romantic failings.
My best friend Lisa is moving to Texas in two days, and I'm driving there with her to get her situated (and to keep her company on this major transitional journey). I've so far been quite at peace with the prospect of another extremely close friend relocating, because in the age of cell phones and email and Facebook, I've hardly lost touch with anyone despite our geographical shortcomings. Certainly the closeness changes, but we're each on our paths, and I am absolutely convinced that Lisa and I needed each other these last three years. We've carried each other through some incredibly difficult times, held each other sobbing, kept an eye out for one another when we were hurting or struggling, laughed ourselves to tears, and learned as much as possible about ourselves and each other. We've become sisters; this is someone who shares my spirit and my love and who does not judge me, even when I'm fully expecting judgment.
And today she told me not to forget this, and I need to write it down here so that in a couple weeks when I am drowning in hormones and panic, I can revisit these words and remember that the Universe is right on schedule:
This past holiday weekend, I spent nearly every hour of four consecutive days with Noah. He invited me over, hosted a huge party/fish fry, cooked food, included me in/let me help with his projects, mentioned in passing that he brags about me to his coworkers, never once acted like he wanted to be alone or free of me, and had long conversations with me about anything that came up.
He and I went to his friend's house on Sunday, where we drank and watched HBO and chatted about life. He and I did chores around his house on Monday, looking for projects to work on, and then drove out of town to rescue his friend (read: bring new radiator hose and coolant) who had broken down on the way to a family vacation in Pine Top, and then we got pulled over on the way back and yucked it up afterwards on the way home that it went so smoothly and that he was treated so kindly by the highway patrol.
And on Tuesday, I invited several friends out to a favorite bar and asked if Noah would like to meet up with us. He was so enthusiastic that he invited several of his own friends to join us, and we all had a romping good time that night!
Here's the major point that Lisa made: at this point, I should be done fretting about What This Means, because this man, who moves at his own pace and speaks his own love languages, is gradually but deliberately incorporating me into his life; mentioning me to his family and coworkers, including me in his major (and minor) activities, and not only eagerly meeting my friends but also meshing our social circles...men who don't want women around don't start implanting them into so many facets of their lives.
And so it is this point where I should start focusing more specifically on being a wonderful half of a wonderful relationship, that is official and legitimate and happy and possesses some sustaining potential. I should focus on being centered, fulfilled, generous, cheerful, positive, and patient.
She mentioned a recent encounter with an OKCupid question inquiring, "What's more important for a relationship, passion or dedication?" I've had plenty of passionate relationships, and I've always been left with my heart spent and my head spinning. She compared it to logs on a fire; the little branches certainly ignite quickly and burn brightly, but they are short-lived and gone in minutes, while the logs take a while to catch and then a promising smolder develops, followed by increased warmth and light.
While I'm waiting for that language that I recognize, with words in sentences that I understand, the ways this man shares himself even more deeply, more earnestly, are more rooted in his actions and his time. In dedication. And it's almost like I don't know what loving dedication feels like, so I'll need to learn this language.
***
As a P.S., I asked Noah if he could burn me a NIN cd that I don't have, and he hustled right into his room and onto his computer to find it, but several minutes later had not accomplished it...so instead he simply unplugged his hard drive, in fact TWO of his hard drives, and handed them right over. He said there were years of photographs on there, and who knows what else, and he just places them in my hands without a thought. If I didn't feel like I'd be dancing out to the end of the most vulnerable twig of a branch possible, I would gush all day TO HIM about how madly in love with him I am, because it wells up in my chest and trickles out my tear ducts and stuffs up my nose... but he knows it, he knows I'm in love with him, and he hasn't pushed me away and he hasn't eased me out, he's given me an ever-more involved role in his world and I know he does exactly what he wants deliberately.
I'm almost embarrassed to plug his hard drive into my computer, and I certainly don't feel comfortable snooping through his photo albums. But in essence, the man did give me carte blanche, so I hope I don't disappoint him!
She reminds me, most often, that I tend to rerun those piercing doubts when I'm being flooded with fertility hormones (progesterone? estrogen? concentrated female panic?), and that this is a storm that is pouring directly onto my head, blinding me to its temporary nature and its imminent cyclical return. It's still impossible to keep from getting wet, in the midst of such downpours, but I'm grateful for the suggestions to pull out an umbrella and wait...because she's always right. She hears the same misgivings and fears, she knows my ups and downs, and she's well-aware of my prior romantic failings.
My best friend Lisa is moving to Texas in two days, and I'm driving there with her to get her situated (and to keep her company on this major transitional journey). I've so far been quite at peace with the prospect of another extremely close friend relocating, because in the age of cell phones and email and Facebook, I've hardly lost touch with anyone despite our geographical shortcomings. Certainly the closeness changes, but we're each on our paths, and I am absolutely convinced that Lisa and I needed each other these last three years. We've carried each other through some incredibly difficult times, held each other sobbing, kept an eye out for one another when we were hurting or struggling, laughed ourselves to tears, and learned as much as possible about ourselves and each other. We've become sisters; this is someone who shares my spirit and my love and who does not judge me, even when I'm fully expecting judgment.
And today she told me not to forget this, and I need to write it down here so that in a couple weeks when I am drowning in hormones and panic, I can revisit these words and remember that the Universe is right on schedule:
This past holiday weekend, I spent nearly every hour of four consecutive days with Noah. He invited me over, hosted a huge party/fish fry, cooked food, included me in/let me help with his projects, mentioned in passing that he brags about me to his coworkers, never once acted like he wanted to be alone or free of me, and had long conversations with me about anything that came up.
He and I went to his friend's house on Sunday, where we drank and watched HBO and chatted about life. He and I did chores around his house on Monday, looking for projects to work on, and then drove out of town to rescue his friend (read: bring new radiator hose and coolant) who had broken down on the way to a family vacation in Pine Top, and then we got pulled over on the way back and yucked it up afterwards on the way home that it went so smoothly and that he was treated so kindly by the highway patrol.
And on Tuesday, I invited several friends out to a favorite bar and asked if Noah would like to meet up with us. He was so enthusiastic that he invited several of his own friends to join us, and we all had a romping good time that night!
Here's the major point that Lisa made: at this point, I should be done fretting about What This Means, because this man, who moves at his own pace and speaks his own love languages, is gradually but deliberately incorporating me into his life; mentioning me to his family and coworkers, including me in his major (and minor) activities, and not only eagerly meeting my friends but also meshing our social circles...men who don't want women around don't start implanting them into so many facets of their lives.
And so it is this point where I should start focusing more specifically on being a wonderful half of a wonderful relationship, that is official and legitimate and happy and possesses some sustaining potential. I should focus on being centered, fulfilled, generous, cheerful, positive, and patient.
She mentioned a recent encounter with an OKCupid question inquiring, "What's more important for a relationship, passion or dedication?" I've had plenty of passionate relationships, and I've always been left with my heart spent and my head spinning. She compared it to logs on a fire; the little branches certainly ignite quickly and burn brightly, but they are short-lived and gone in minutes, while the logs take a while to catch and then a promising smolder develops, followed by increased warmth and light.
While I'm waiting for that language that I recognize, with words in sentences that I understand, the ways this man shares himself even more deeply, more earnestly, are more rooted in his actions and his time. In dedication. And it's almost like I don't know what loving dedication feels like, so I'll need to learn this language.
***
As a P.S., I asked Noah if he could burn me a NIN cd that I don't have, and he hustled right into his room and onto his computer to find it, but several minutes later had not accomplished it...so instead he simply unplugged his hard drive, in fact TWO of his hard drives, and handed them right over. He said there were years of photographs on there, and who knows what else, and he just places them in my hands without a thought. If I didn't feel like I'd be dancing out to the end of the most vulnerable twig of a branch possible, I would gush all day TO HIM about how madly in love with him I am, because it wells up in my chest and trickles out my tear ducts and stuffs up my nose... but he knows it, he knows I'm in love with him, and he hasn't pushed me away and he hasn't eased me out, he's given me an ever-more involved role in his world and I know he does exactly what he wants deliberately.
I'm almost embarrassed to plug his hard drive into my computer, and I certainly don't feel comfortable snooping through his photo albums. But in essence, the man did give me carte blanche, so I hope I don't disappoint him!
5.10.2014
being patient
I just read these words, "When we are impatient, we are in a hurry for things to be diffferent," and it hit me like a mass of air.
A month ago, I wrote in here that I wasn't going to "bop around and declare my love" for Noah, but since then I have mustered to courage to tell him directly, when I was sober (and terrified), that I really loved him. He has not returned the declaration, but he hasn't been any less loving to me. He's been more so, in fact.
My worries are that expressing that I am really in love with him will make him feel uncomfortable and he is being pressured to say it back to me. He's really not the kind of person who gushes all over, but he is straightforward and articulate when he means to be. He treats me with respect, does things I ask him to, makes time for me almost every time I request his company (which is surprising because I'm not used to that at all!), is affectionate in public, tries to make me feel better if I'm really down (and it works!), and gives me massages when I'm stressed even if he's nearly comatose. He (and his friends) talk about plans for this summer and he refers to me as "the Crew" from whom he needs to discuss suggestions. His roommate (who is moving out next week) talks to me as though I am now a permanent fixture in the "gang," and all his friends seem very comfortable including me in any of their group activities.
He and his roommate were discussing life the other night, and I was tired and laying across Noah's lap and listening. Noah described his progress into adulthood and the new-found motivation to "grow up" and start living like an adult. Six months ago, he mentioned frequently how he worked as hard as he did so that he could take it really easy in his personal life. Now, his attitude seemed to shift toward pulling his shit together some more and having something to show for his hard work. I'm not sure if that was because I was sitting there and he was telling me indirectly that his priorities had started to shift, but he said it, and I heard it.
A couple weekends ago, I went to watch Game of Thrones at Noah's friend's house, because I was uncertain how I'd catch up on the episodes I'd missed and the friends I usually watched it with were unresponsive to texts. Noah and his friend went to the store for supplies beforehand, and Noah went off for another social engagement. When I got to his friend's house, there was a bottle of wine Noah had picked out for me, because I don't drink much beer and he was looking out for me. I know this man wants me to be happy and to have a good time.
I could cite a hundred examples of how he loves me, so it isn't a question of if he does, but when he will say it. Maybe even if he ever will. What if he's never told a girl he loves her? I'm not nosy and haven't pried into his past love life at all, besides politely engaging him in conversation about things he's already brought up. I know it's none of my business unless he wants to share, and that's how I feel about my own love life. He doesn't know most of my dating history, and won't, because it's not what I want to discuss. If he asked me pointed questions, there's a greater likelihood that I would divulge, but it's very important to me to avoid sharing details on prior relationships because I'm biased against most of them (now that they've ended, of course).
Because I'm not prompting him to share, I also don't think it's my place to ask if he's ever been in love or said it to someone before. His roommate's wife told me that in the several years she's known him, he hasn't been with anyone significant, and in the six months he's been with me, he has changed quite a bit. Apparently they all discuss the changes in him. People in my life talk about how I've changed, too. I'm calmer and more positive overall.
I've noticed that my own qualms and hangups include looking directly into his eyes. I just can't seem to do it, even though I used to be able to do that. Lately I've been making progress, and actually trying to look him in the eyes for a little longer than a glance just before I kiss him. I had relied mostly on the visceral wave of sensation when we get intimate, which for me is a strong indication of connection, but is probably the result of my relying on physical connection to validate myself most of my life. Cuddling has been easy; he never shrugs me off.
It's just that in words, I am so much more comfortable. I crave hearing those things I would happily say, on repeat, because in words I can relate. I want him to tell me how much he loves me, how beautiful he thinks I am (which he does say sometimes), he happy he is with me, and that he's grateful for me. I realize that all these things are basically a commitment, because in words things are so much more tangible, so much more concrete. He openly resisted the idea of even being in a relationship, and has since started agreeing with his friends that I am in fact his girlfriend.
So why am I impatient? I don't want things to be different. I love this man and I want him to keep treating me like a friend and a lover. I'm not sure why I so deeply crave for him to express himself in ways he doesn't seem eager to do.
A month ago, I wrote in here that I wasn't going to "bop around and declare my love" for Noah, but since then I have mustered to courage to tell him directly, when I was sober (and terrified), that I really loved him. He has not returned the declaration, but he hasn't been any less loving to me. He's been more so, in fact.
My worries are that expressing that I am really in love with him will make him feel uncomfortable and he is being pressured to say it back to me. He's really not the kind of person who gushes all over, but he is straightforward and articulate when he means to be. He treats me with respect, does things I ask him to, makes time for me almost every time I request his company (which is surprising because I'm not used to that at all!), is affectionate in public, tries to make me feel better if I'm really down (and it works!), and gives me massages when I'm stressed even if he's nearly comatose. He (and his friends) talk about plans for this summer and he refers to me as "the Crew" from whom he needs to discuss suggestions. His roommate (who is moving out next week) talks to me as though I am now a permanent fixture in the "gang," and all his friends seem very comfortable including me in any of their group activities.
He and his roommate were discussing life the other night, and I was tired and laying across Noah's lap and listening. Noah described his progress into adulthood and the new-found motivation to "grow up" and start living like an adult. Six months ago, he mentioned frequently how he worked as hard as he did so that he could take it really easy in his personal life. Now, his attitude seemed to shift toward pulling his shit together some more and having something to show for his hard work. I'm not sure if that was because I was sitting there and he was telling me indirectly that his priorities had started to shift, but he said it, and I heard it.
A couple weekends ago, I went to watch Game of Thrones at Noah's friend's house, because I was uncertain how I'd catch up on the episodes I'd missed and the friends I usually watched it with were unresponsive to texts. Noah and his friend went to the store for supplies beforehand, and Noah went off for another social engagement. When I got to his friend's house, there was a bottle of wine Noah had picked out for me, because I don't drink much beer and he was looking out for me. I know this man wants me to be happy and to have a good time.
I could cite a hundred examples of how he loves me, so it isn't a question of if he does, but when he will say it. Maybe even if he ever will. What if he's never told a girl he loves her? I'm not nosy and haven't pried into his past love life at all, besides politely engaging him in conversation about things he's already brought up. I know it's none of my business unless he wants to share, and that's how I feel about my own love life. He doesn't know most of my dating history, and won't, because it's not what I want to discuss. If he asked me pointed questions, there's a greater likelihood that I would divulge, but it's very important to me to avoid sharing details on prior relationships because I'm biased against most of them (now that they've ended, of course).
Because I'm not prompting him to share, I also don't think it's my place to ask if he's ever been in love or said it to someone before. His roommate's wife told me that in the several years she's known him, he hasn't been with anyone significant, and in the six months he's been with me, he has changed quite a bit. Apparently they all discuss the changes in him. People in my life talk about how I've changed, too. I'm calmer and more positive overall.
I've noticed that my own qualms and hangups include looking directly into his eyes. I just can't seem to do it, even though I used to be able to do that. Lately I've been making progress, and actually trying to look him in the eyes for a little longer than a glance just before I kiss him. I had relied mostly on the visceral wave of sensation when we get intimate, which for me is a strong indication of connection, but is probably the result of my relying on physical connection to validate myself most of my life. Cuddling has been easy; he never shrugs me off.
It's just that in words, I am so much more comfortable. I crave hearing those things I would happily say, on repeat, because in words I can relate. I want him to tell me how much he loves me, how beautiful he thinks I am (which he does say sometimes), he happy he is with me, and that he's grateful for me. I realize that all these things are basically a commitment, because in words things are so much more tangible, so much more concrete. He openly resisted the idea of even being in a relationship, and has since started agreeing with his friends that I am in fact his girlfriend.
So why am I impatient? I don't want things to be different. I love this man and I want him to keep treating me like a friend and a lover. I'm not sure why I so deeply crave for him to express himself in ways he doesn't seem eager to do.
4.14.2014
blessings and perspective
After reflecting on the events of my thirtieth year, I had concluded, just before my 31st birthday, that that had so far been the best year of my life. The most transformative, and the healthiest.
I'm always working out how to be healthy. It's really not a permanent fix, I've realized. Therapy has done its part in many ways, but obviously it needs to have a permanent, semi-regular place in my life.
I certainly don't pretend to remember all the lessons I've learned as I've grown. There are the subtle ones that dawn on me for a moment or two, or those that impart their wisdom to me through repeated trial and error (and error and error and error). And the ones I fought hard to learn, even...those ones I don't always put into practice, sadly.
But I've learned a few valuable lessons that I don't think I'll ever forget:
* Be grateful.
* Be authentic with your words--don't say things you don't mean (but I'm working on not verbally abusing myself when I feel down). Speak with love.
*Help others when you can, and do so enthusiastically.
* Love fearlessly. Love your friends. Love your family. Love your pets. Love your environment. Love your work, and the purpose it serves.
And here's where my life lessons have led me, at least at this present moment.
For the sake of seeing this beautiful thing through with Noah, I am practicing patience, perspective, and reservation of judgment. For example, I know that sometimes my mood will swing, typically when I'm not in his company, and I will be riddled with doubt about myself, our situation, how he feels, how I look, etc. I have to remind myself that the world is not waiting for me to make a decision, that circumstances will inevitably shift to something better or different or worse or whatever, but they will change nonetheless.
This helps me wait it out, my funky mood. That way, I'm fresh-faced and delighted to see Noah every time, rather than an attention-craving ball validation-seeking anxiety.
Also, it has helped me to pull back quite a bit and focus on spending time doing things with other people, checking important things off my to-do list, and getting my work accomplished. Noah gets his shit done, and sets a very good example, but when I hang out with him, he has generally already completed many tasks, whereas I have many yet to tend to. And then we just relax in each other's company, while my tasks wait un-tended.
Some time ago, I sat down with my dear friend and we sketched out our ideal partners. I knew I wanted someone who I could respect, who could keep up with me, who challenged me, who appreciated me, who was affectionate, honest, open, and reliable. I wanted a man I was attracted to, who had a healthy sexual appetite, and with whom I had excellent chemistry. I wanted a man who didn't just think about himself, but who was generous and kind to others, including his friends, his lover, his family, and everyone else. I wanted a man who took care of himself and his affairs, with a cheerful and sharp wit, who appreciated and "got" my sense of humor and respected my opinions and passions. I wanted a man who was proud to have me around, and to introduce me to other important people in his life. AND I wanted a man who actively made the time to be with me.
This last part was especially important, because it was so blatantly where I was neglected by Toby for so many years. In fact, the entire time, come to think of it.
And it's amazing how accurately this list describes Noah. He is the most amazing man. Not perfect, of course, and I would never argue that, but he is a good man. He is humble and courteous, he is peaceful and approachable. He appreciates variety and the plethora of talents and aspirations and loves that other people embrace, even if he does not embrace those things.
And damnit, this man spends time with me. I am not demanding, I am not high-maintenance, and I never feel like a burden because when I request Noah's time, he fucking finds some way to give it to me. He does not try to dodge me or give vague predictions about his future schedule. He wraps his beautiful arms around me tight, all night, and treats me like he wants to be with me.
I can't even begin to describe how much that means to me. Much less tell him. But I think he knows. I think we both know, we're taking care of each other. We're in this to be good to the other, to lift the other up, to be our best selves, and to enjoy the experience.
I was hoping, really deeply aching, for the past month or two, to know where we stood on the "official" standpoint... was I his girlfriend? He'd mentioned before not wanting a relationship but feeling conflicted because he was that into me...and then we just kept spending time together. I was laying in bed next to him last weekend, turning the script over in my head, rephrasing something along the lines of, "Hey, how d'you feel about calling me your girlfriend?" or something equally casual. I had mulled it over so many times I'm sure I was sending some serious transmissions directly to him, since we were wrapped around each other in the sleepy hours of the morning. I never mustered the courage to ask him directly.
That evening, over text message, we discussed plans for watching the college basketball championship game, and he asked me to remind him to pick up "food for girlfriend" completely un-prompted. It was such a relief! At least I know now that he's feeling steady with me. I've gotten burned so many times in the last two years, it's an incredible compliment to have someone I think so highly of finally decide I was worth investing some time into.
He openly respects me, my work, my opinions, and my judgment of character. He affectionately sits near me, touches me with his leg, or shoulder, or wraps his arm around me, or sits near me, or holds me so tight when we hug goodbye.
And today we went to the hardware store, and as we were leaving spotted an older man tying four long pieces of wood to the back of his motorcycle. Noah considered asking him if we could carry that wood home for the man while he followed us with his bike...and we made it to the driveway when Noah turned around and decided to ask him if he could use the help. The man declined graciously, but the gesture was worth it.
I'm so damn proud to be this man's significant other. I have such profound respect for him, and I feel so good to be with him. I'm not going to bop around declaring my love for him (even though secretly, in my head, I do it all the time), but I am truly honored and humbled to blessed with his companionship. It's certainly worth practicing all my previous life lessons and all the wisdom I've ever acquired just to ensure that this relationship is the healthiest it is capable of being.
So I'm trying to dust off all those lessons I probably learned when I was heartbroken and hopeless the last six years of my life. I'd like to really appreciate the journey that brought me to this amazing man. Even if this isn't the end of the road in love, I am very happy to be right where I am.
I'm always working out how to be healthy. It's really not a permanent fix, I've realized. Therapy has done its part in many ways, but obviously it needs to have a permanent, semi-regular place in my life.
I certainly don't pretend to remember all the lessons I've learned as I've grown. There are the subtle ones that dawn on me for a moment or two, or those that impart their wisdom to me through repeated trial and error (and error and error and error). And the ones I fought hard to learn, even...those ones I don't always put into practice, sadly.
But I've learned a few valuable lessons that I don't think I'll ever forget:
* Be grateful.
* Be authentic with your words--don't say things you don't mean (but I'm working on not verbally abusing myself when I feel down). Speak with love.
*Help others when you can, and do so enthusiastically.
* Love fearlessly. Love your friends. Love your family. Love your pets. Love your environment. Love your work, and the purpose it serves.
And here's where my life lessons have led me, at least at this present moment.
For the sake of seeing this beautiful thing through with Noah, I am practicing patience, perspective, and reservation of judgment. For example, I know that sometimes my mood will swing, typically when I'm not in his company, and I will be riddled with doubt about myself, our situation, how he feels, how I look, etc. I have to remind myself that the world is not waiting for me to make a decision, that circumstances will inevitably shift to something better or different or worse or whatever, but they will change nonetheless.
This helps me wait it out, my funky mood. That way, I'm fresh-faced and delighted to see Noah every time, rather than an attention-craving ball validation-seeking anxiety.
Also, it has helped me to pull back quite a bit and focus on spending time doing things with other people, checking important things off my to-do list, and getting my work accomplished. Noah gets his shit done, and sets a very good example, but when I hang out with him, he has generally already completed many tasks, whereas I have many yet to tend to. And then we just relax in each other's company, while my tasks wait un-tended.
Some time ago, I sat down with my dear friend and we sketched out our ideal partners. I knew I wanted someone who I could respect, who could keep up with me, who challenged me, who appreciated me, who was affectionate, honest, open, and reliable. I wanted a man I was attracted to, who had a healthy sexual appetite, and with whom I had excellent chemistry. I wanted a man who didn't just think about himself, but who was generous and kind to others, including his friends, his lover, his family, and everyone else. I wanted a man who took care of himself and his affairs, with a cheerful and sharp wit, who appreciated and "got" my sense of humor and respected my opinions and passions. I wanted a man who was proud to have me around, and to introduce me to other important people in his life. AND I wanted a man who actively made the time to be with me.
This last part was especially important, because it was so blatantly where I was neglected by Toby for so many years. In fact, the entire time, come to think of it.
And it's amazing how accurately this list describes Noah. He is the most amazing man. Not perfect, of course, and I would never argue that, but he is a good man. He is humble and courteous, he is peaceful and approachable. He appreciates variety and the plethora of talents and aspirations and loves that other people embrace, even if he does not embrace those things.
And damnit, this man spends time with me. I am not demanding, I am not high-maintenance, and I never feel like a burden because when I request Noah's time, he fucking finds some way to give it to me. He does not try to dodge me or give vague predictions about his future schedule. He wraps his beautiful arms around me tight, all night, and treats me like he wants to be with me.
I can't even begin to describe how much that means to me. Much less tell him. But I think he knows. I think we both know, we're taking care of each other. We're in this to be good to the other, to lift the other up, to be our best selves, and to enjoy the experience.
I was hoping, really deeply aching, for the past month or two, to know where we stood on the "official" standpoint... was I his girlfriend? He'd mentioned before not wanting a relationship but feeling conflicted because he was that into me...and then we just kept spending time together. I was laying in bed next to him last weekend, turning the script over in my head, rephrasing something along the lines of, "Hey, how d'you feel about calling me your girlfriend?" or something equally casual. I had mulled it over so many times I'm sure I was sending some serious transmissions directly to him, since we were wrapped around each other in the sleepy hours of the morning. I never mustered the courage to ask him directly.
That evening, over text message, we discussed plans for watching the college basketball championship game, and he asked me to remind him to pick up "food for girlfriend" completely un-prompted. It was such a relief! At least I know now that he's feeling steady with me. I've gotten burned so many times in the last two years, it's an incredible compliment to have someone I think so highly of finally decide I was worth investing some time into.
He openly respects me, my work, my opinions, and my judgment of character. He affectionately sits near me, touches me with his leg, or shoulder, or wraps his arm around me, or sits near me, or holds me so tight when we hug goodbye.
And today we went to the hardware store, and as we were leaving spotted an older man tying four long pieces of wood to the back of his motorcycle. Noah considered asking him if we could carry that wood home for the man while he followed us with his bike...and we made it to the driveway when Noah turned around and decided to ask him if he could use the help. The man declined graciously, but the gesture was worth it.
I'm so damn proud to be this man's significant other. I have such profound respect for him, and I feel so good to be with him. I'm not going to bop around declaring my love for him (even though secretly, in my head, I do it all the time), but I am truly honored and humbled to blessed with his companionship. It's certainly worth practicing all my previous life lessons and all the wisdom I've ever acquired just to ensure that this relationship is the healthiest it is capable of being.
So I'm trying to dust off all those lessons I probably learned when I was heartbroken and hopeless the last six years of my life. I'd like to really appreciate the journey that brought me to this amazing man. Even if this isn't the end of the road in love, I am very happy to be right where I am.
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