I haven’t wanted to write. I’ve been too busy trying to be anywhere but here. It was a week where I didn’t want to feel. My emotions were so overwhelming and I just wanted to be numb. I reached for my old reliable numbing behaviors and twisted ruefully into them all week. Ignoring the open wound. I made a promise to God. I said, if I was open and told my truth. If it didn’t work out I wouldn’t force it. I would be prepared to accept that it was not Gods will for me and I would walk away. I made that promise and it was, is, time to honor it.
In a conversation about love last night, Mari pointed out that it is not about the men (the partner) it is about who we are in relationship to them. It is about some people reflecting parts of ourselves and it is my thought that the people we are most attracted to mirror back the things we rarely look at. The parts of ourselves we glance over or intentionally avoid. Then here’s this person and they see it (are it) and somehow in their eyes it’s beautiful. And we fall. Like Narcissus in the puddle, for our own reflection. I think about my exes, with E I felt freedom. We could be smart, silly, goofy, political, passionate, and provocative. We could be anything together. With Deeds, so much was about being and feeling wanted. And P2AD…I felt intelligent, sure, and worthy. Yet how fragile it all was. When I lost them I felt I lost all those things too. But I didn’t, because they’re all parts of me. And I don’t need them to access me.
When I look forward and think about Jax, I think what about myself do I see there? I joke that it’s all about the “six dates” but truthfully it’s about something much deeper. It’s vulnerability on an entirely different level. I have never allowed myself to be held. Not in the ways he tries to hold me. The balance in him is the balance I seek in myself. Melting into my femininity. Feeling it’s okay to not have to be strong. To surrender. To submit. To be held. It’s terrifying. And maybe that’s why…
I prayed and I asked God for a man who was a partner. Who talked to me and with me. Who could support and challenge me. Who’s heart was good and earnest. Who took pride in family. Who was available (in all the ways: spiritually, emotionally, physically). Who would pursue me even after I was his. Who has a relationship with himself. Who has a relationship with God (however he saw him). Who laughed and was playful. Who knew I need touch everyday. Who would drive because I hate to. Who would be spontaneous with me. Who would have a plan when necessary. Who was helpful. Who was honest. Who was mine.
So I’m ready to feel again. To sit in it. To cry if I need to. Scream if I need to. Laugh through tears if I need to. No more numbing. No more dizzying highs of retreat. I’m here.