Love Story, part 1

Writing has always been my confessional. I’ve had a diary/journal since I learned how to write. I need a safe, secret place to check in and untangle all the thoughts in my head. As an adult, I’ve become comfortable sharing my thoughts and now, many of my thoughts are not so secret. Most of the time I write about romance, people, partners-past, present, future. Love, all the guises of love…

My last love was one that I would categorize as “absolutely fantastical & quite insane”. I have only 3 past romances that I would place in this category. The partner in this fever dream, covid-distraction, play, my love object, was (despite words and declarations stating otherwise) totally unavailable.

A little history. I love LOVE. Completely, utterly and with all my heart. Love was always my raison d’etre but from a place of childhood lack. Both my parents were completely absent, emotionally and then. by the age of 3, physically. My love blueprints were pieced together from outside sources (predominantly 19 & 20th century British Literature & Poetry), books, music, films… Fantasies & imaginings of how grand love could be in its potential manifestations. I experimented a lot. I explored and dissected love in so many variances. Still, I was unable to discover that feeling which I idealized. I dreamed that love would be without doubt, certain and sure. Love would feel solid. Like a mountain made of stone. Love had to be permanent. Even if it fell apart or ended, there would be a divine transformation made possible, through it. Love is an eternal portal. It would be an unfolding flower that only grew more beautiful with time. Real love would never contain rejection and abandonment. All true and all lies. Love is so many things and made even more strange by the fact that, while powerful, it is a delicate contract, easily shattered by impulsive words or actions. Each person has their own perception and will. Each participant can choose to stay or go.

Growing up, My favorite book was Wuthering Heights. The haunting romance between Heathcliff and Cathy that endures beyond the grave became my ideal template for partnership. The romances I would place in the “absolutely fantastical and quite insane” category are extremely Wuthering Heights in tone. My toxic love template made manifest. Each one, more intense than the last. All full of chaos, stirring statements of undying love, explosive conflicts (over small things), 3rd party interests fluttering around the edges like vultures, pain & misery, but… there was a high that was distilled from all the energies at play that was unlike anything on earth. It was like tasting oblivion. Peering into the abyss of the universe and being able to stop time. It was everything and nothing all together. I felt inspired and energized. I didn’t need sleep, food, anything. All I needed was the LOVE.

My last romance takes the cake.

I’m on an extended vacation from love while I work on myself (on my own, with a therapist and with other trusted confidants). I’m not broken but I’ll admit to being wounded. When I fall in love, there is no limit. I have been told a few times, that the force of my love is “too much”. It’s like a raging waterfall when all someone wants is a tiny sip of water. I recognize that I deify partners. With people I love, I want to build monuments to them, create worlds with them. I always have to hold back. Be small and careful.

With this man, I turned my love all the way up. I went there. He returned it. He was into it. We came together like magnets and lit a fire of love that only burned for a few weeks before it started to die. How did all those feelings, words, dreams, shared conversations-how did it all take place in a handful of weeks?! It feels like years. Timelines, plans and considerations for our life together were talked about intently. Towards the end he said “You’re like heroin to me.” which was pretty toxic and a red flag (one of many I ignored) but also I was trying not to laugh because that’s what Edward said to Bella in Twilight… Isn’t love supposed to be patient and kind? This experience was frantic & out of control. When it was falling apart he said “Help me believe in this love story! How do I have faith in it? What can we do?” That was it for me. I was already terribly anxious each time I heard the custom text tone I gave him. It was an instant Pavlovian response to an alarm bell. It was excruciating. I wasn’t sleeping, my skin was breaking out, I had no interest with food… I no longer try and convince people to love me or be with me. I saw through all the illusions and saw the “romance” through a filter of clarity. Once I saw how off & “not love” it was, I couldn’t un-see it. We were lost and lonely children. It was a trauma bond. We were just getting high off of one another.

I’m thinking about all of this because, overall, I’ve been feeling better. The last month away from him and “it”-the forest fire love… has been good for me. Once I stopped crying and got out of bed, I brought my focus back to what I’m creating, in my work and life. I felt myself returning to my true form. The authentic energy that I am on my own-not shapeshifting to try and please anyone. I feel inspired and creative, enjoying simple days full of projects, brainstorming with my best friends and domesticity.

Then I had a dream about him. Ok, two dreams in one restless night. Last night. In the first dream, we were outside in the evening, he was with me at a party with my friends, he was drunk and being loud and arrogant. I was making excuses for him. He got annoyed and left. I later found him on a street corner crying like a child. He was knocking over trash cans and having a blackout temper tantrum. I ran to him, held him in my arms and stroked his curly hair saying “My Angel, it’s ok…” over and over. He clung to me and cried.

I woke up in a cold sweat, feeling shocked. I got a glass of water and went back to bed. then I had ANOTHER dream about him. In the second dream, he shows up at my childhood home with several suitcases. There are distractions all around stopping me from spending time with him. At one point a race of hundreds of people runs it’s course through my front yard, creating a dividing line between us. He sulks and retreats to my bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Every time I try to open my bedroom door to go talk to him, another person shows up and whisks me off on an errand. Finally my dead grandmother pulls up in her old white Lincoln Continental. she rolls down the window and says “He’s really not the guy for you.” I go inside and can see that he has all his bags piled up by the front door. “I’m leaving.” he says. I can’t speak, I try to talk but words won’t form. We never even hugged or touched. he leaves.

As painful as the collapse of my fantasy future with this man was, there were glimpses of beauty, displayed like coming attractions of what’s in store. I can feel it. so close. In my work with clients, often it’s breakups and heartache that brings them to me. I hear the words I’m saying to them echoing to me now. “What’s meant for you, can’t be stopped.” and “Love isn’t a starbucks drive thru, when you’re waiting on a divine partnership, you have to be patient.” and so many other things…. But really what do I know? I know a few things. With a small red candle, I can easily manifest flings, gifts from suitors, powerful attraction and forest fire love. When it comes to REAL LOVE, I’m figuring it out. Open to the possibility but waiting for the proof. I’m over here waiting and trying to get along, and improve myself like everyone else. I have so much work to do. It’s never ending.

I still think dreamily about Literature fantasy men (it’s a hard habit to break!), but now I’ve evolved into idealizing Jane Eyre. That’s progress! I’m writing a new love story. Creating a new template. I’m at the center of it. This season/year of isolation has been such a challenge. I can feel it all around, literally everyone is tapped into this experience. I know the pain, longing, desperation, misunderstanding and collective disconnection we are all part of.

Temperance-Alignment, Balance, the Dance with Sacred Self…

What will the new world experience look like beyond this? What will love be? Who will I become? It’s all changing but the foundation is personal. The center of everything is still my relationship with self. Love is this unlimited personal resource that we all contain but how to tap into it? Most of us weren’t taught to explore love in healthy ways.

I think, “Where does all that love go? Love that was created, played with and shared with another.” It can’t just disappear. I’m convinced it returns to source. The fountain within our hearts, the gods we all are, in our own right. The love we share with spirit/the divine. Love is within and without at every moment and in everything. Love is in solitude and balance and the relationship I have with myself. I still believe in Love Stories that are grand and spectacular but I am aware. I want to see what love can feel like when it’s solid and rooted in thoughtfulness. I know there is more than intoxication and overwhelm.

As an adult, feeling the reality that I am likely halfway through my earthly life, I’m no longer interested in tumultuous faux passions. I see it. I was doing research to find my inner child-calling myself together. Lessons learned, well, I’m still learning. But, I’m committed to this new level of love and expanding my vision from a design that I invented as a child. Love is more than I ever imagined. I’d be a fool to act like I’ve got it all figured out. I await the future, eyes open, my wild heart tempered by my mind and the vision I have of all that is possible. With sweetness, curiosity and loving care towards myself. So with that, I’ll end this installment of Love Story. Do something nice for yourself. I took a long walk through Lone Fir Cemetery eating lemon saffron began ice cream. All those old trees were exactly what I needed.

xoxo M