This isn’t going to be about plants, though. It’s about renewal, rebirth, and hope. And one magical weekend in Kentucky, where the cherry blossom trees that have already bloomed and dropped their flowers in exchange for the lush greenery of summer in my own Southern city have only just started that cycle.
Just over 5 years ago, I asked for a divorce from a man that many would say is a “good man.” And he is, probably. He was faithful, he was the breadwinner for most of our relationship, he has a great relationship with his family & especially with his mother, who I still adore. 4 years ago, when I tweeted this, I had no idea what it really meant or where it came from. I just knew I didn’t feel lovable. I didn’t feel worthy of a true partnership.
I’ve spent the last 4 years feeling that way, and as a result, isolating myself from most genuine connections with men. Men that are distant, either physically or emotionally, are safe. They can’t break my heart, because we could never get close enough for that to happen. Men that are single and local are dangerous. Maybe I’ll fall in love and they won’t feel the same way. I couldn’t chance that. I dipped my toe in once a couple of years ago, and while I have no regrets, it definitely left me with the feeling that once again, I was just an option for someone to spend a little time with for a bit. To stave off the boredom, to feel desired again. I’m good at those things. I’m fun, and I will pour myself into letting you know just how much I care/am attracted/want to be with you. I have to hold myself back from being too intimate, too serious, too quickly. And I’ve been fine with occupying that place in someone’s life because I feel much the same: my autonomy is the most important thing to protect.
This weekend was a catalyst.
This weekend, everything changed.
For the first time, I was faced with the reality of where these thoughts came from: it’s not my fault. I have been conditioned to believe that my faults and mistakes make me unworthy of love.
It was unexpected, in the midst of a second meet-up with a long time love interest who happens to live too far away to be “unsafe” (as well as being one of the most fantastic humans I have ever known). The first two and a half days of our romantic weekend had gone without a hitch. Just like last time, we were two people with an undeniable connection and respect for one another, playing house. He called me his girlfriend to an employee at Panera. I’m not, and we both know why, but the moment made me smile. It’s been so long since anyone wanted to publicly acknowledge that I belong with them, it felt good even for a stranger to know it. We kissed during a 4 mile hike, one where I never felt I was holding him back because of my own physical fitness, even when I had to make him stop and breathe with me during a 90-foot climb. I made him dinner and breakfast and knew he understood that I was showing him love.
But then I fucked something up. Something simple, a little blip of stress on an otherwise blissful evening. Something that in my previous life, would have spiraled into shame as my “partner” berated me and showed his annoyance at our plans being derailed because of my dumb misstep. The situation I created is unimportant now: it resolved itself, with my date patiently by my side, rubbing my back, telling me it would be okay, and letting me know that it was not something I needed to feel guilty about.
And that SHATTERED me.
I spent hours waiting for the cracks to show, for his annoyance to creep out, for the blame game to begin. Hours that I could have just loved on him, because those moments never came. He moved on while I stayed stuck in fear. And then once he was asleep, I knew. THIS was how a partner should treat you. I’ve been avoiding something that could be such a positive force in my life because of the fear that someone else, someone that no longer has a place high enough in my circle to make me feel that way ever again, instilled in me.
All of this time I have been a quote-unquote strong, independent woman, not because I am (even though I really am) but because of FEAR. Fear that should not exist in me. And it will probably hang around for a bit, but I came out of that experience and this weekend understanding that I can’t continue letting myself hold back because of something that may never happen.
Anyway, I’m still not his girlfriend, but I do love him, and I told him freely, in all of my most raw and vulnerable glory. I thanked him. I held onto him for as long as I could. I cried when I pulled away from the airport, as he stood just inside the doors waving at me, neither of us ready to turn away from one another. I presume we’ll see each other again, have another weekend in a different city to play house in, to be partners. And this time, maybe my anxiety before will be just a little less, because I know. I deserve to be treated the way he treats me. I deserve to be loved that way.
