In "Naming," a chapter in David Whyte's book, Consolations, he writes that "Naming love too early is a beautiful but harrowing human difficulty, Most of our heartbreak comes from attempting to name who or what we love and the way we love, too early in the vulnerable journey of discovery."
I've often said, only half-joking, that I'm the person who says at the beginning of a relationship, "Tell me you'll love me forever or leave now because, if not, I've got things to do." Sitting with uncertainty has never been my forte. Not knowing makes me nervous. As a kid growing up in an alcoholic environment, I learned to anticipate, to look around corners, to take the mood of a room in seconds. Waiting to see what developed wasn't a skill I learned, or wanted to. I was in a hurry - always. This tendency to anticipate mated with my natural energy and "Enjoy the good times before it all goes away" became my creed. Damn the consequences - I'm having fun now! Scooting out of the house to rejoin the street-ball game, climbing out of the upstairs window to meet friends at the park, moving along, moving along. My dad used to tell me to slow down. I always figured that the rest of you just needed to speed it up a bit. Come on, come on - we don't want to miss anything.
And then I met the man who was to become my husband. We started dating in November, and it wasn't until February that he told me he loved me. Four months was a reasonable amount of time to consider the possibilities of our budding relationship, though I was itchy for definition. I had prayed for a new experience, and I was getting one, so asked for a new set of tools to go with it. Sitting still when I wanted to run. Cultivating curiosity when I wanted absolutes. Deciding to let God be in charge while trying not to say, "Really? Are you sure?"
My relationship history contains stories of connections, obsessions, and liaisons with introverts. Funny, attractive introverts, usually with a history of depression. I can spot one in a room of 500 people. And then this extrovert showed up. Cute, but no bells and whistles - he didn't match my template, my road map of who and how I was supposed to couple. And so, despite my natural inclination, I sat still.This was foreign territory - what else could I do? I paid attention, to him and to my internal chatter; I said my prayers - many, many prayers. And here we are, nearly 8 years later, 6 of those married. I had no idea love could be so sweet.
My husband just had a sobriety milestone - 15 years. I know that some people are adamant about not dating another recovering person, but for me, it is imperative that my spouse and I speak the same language. My history doesn't scare him, because he's been there too. I'm so grateful that when I heard a woman share in a meeting about letting God choose her partner next time, I listened, despite my initial resistance. Nothing changes if nothing changes, and though it took a couple of decades, I was finally willing to jump off that cliff of trust, finally OK with not knowing what was coming next. My emotional world is safe today, and has been for a long time, though it took that long time for me to truly understand that I was being taken care of, and always had been. I'm still in a hurry much of the time, but today it is with awareness and a sense of choice, not compulsion.
We hear that romance and finance are where many of us struggle. What is the state of your emotions today? Where does love show up in your life, and how does it look different than what you expected?
Jeanine, I must respond to this delightful entry. I, too, was a victim of the fear I might miss something if I didn't keep moving. It nearly killed me. What I was seeking exactly, I could never really articulate, but I was rocket-fueled by alcohol to keep the momentum forward moving. I sped through relationships without taking the time to invest in the truly hard work of love, tasting and discarding at the slightest hint of difficulties. I was divorced twice before I was 30 and had quite a run at serial monogamy, like trying on shoes of every style, until I fell into AA at 39...surrendering to my own defeat. I met my husband in AA a year later, after following the great suggestion of no relationships for at least a year of sobriety (later I wondered why my sponsor didn't suggest 5 years...). We have now been together over 27 years and, like you, I appreciate we speak the language of recovery which allows us to honestly communicate and trust on a level I'd never experienced before. It hasn't always been an easy path, but our trust and love is centered in our own past experiences we vow not to repeat. To be an honorable sober woman in relationship is my privilege and I intend to keep it up one day at a time. Thanks for this entry.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your example...
ReplyDelete