December 25th, 2014 | No Comments »

I don’t have to peruse through the various categories in this blog to be keenly aware that my life seems to be like a broken record, stuck on repeat, skipping at the same track over and over and over again.  I would rather call this life journey an exercise in perseverance, not failure.  Always looking for the bright spin, you know.  Glass half full.  That sort of thing.  I do learn, bit by bit and here and there.

This blog tends to capture more of my struggles than my victories.  I don’t suppose I feel the need to write when I’m rockin’ my world.  So, to the random reader (ha ha, no such thing as a random reader, considering that search engines are blocked so those who get here arrive because at some point in time I said they could come here), I may seem scattered and a complete and utter wreck of  a person.  Indeed, that’s often the case when I’m drawn to write.  Processing.  This is what I do, to sort through my stuff, for my own mental health.

It’s been a healing journey.  I think that I’ve actually come quite far in the last year or so.  I’ve formed a wonderful new friendship with another single mother, and it’s been so life filling to have a nearby woman friend with whom I can connect.  My dearest women friends are scattered far, far from me, from the East Coast to Australia, so a local friend is a treasure indeed.  I’m also learning how to accept the course and flow of the various relationships, short or long, that I’ve been involved in over the past few years.

I always hope that the next one will be the last one.  Hence the sound of that broken record, because, so far, the next one hasn’t been the last one.  Hope remains, though.  I’ve wondered somewhat if the immersion in the dating pool and recently attempted relationships has only been some form of rebound from the last long relationship.  Perhaps I haven’t been as ready as I’d hoped.  I don’t know.  Definitely there has been need of healing –a need to process through the whys of those three years.  Actually, now that I reflect back on things, I have indeed come a long way down the healing road.  Certain doubts that I had fostered have clearly been resolved.  I’ve mentioned the burden of broken hearts in other posts, and yes, I feel badly for those with whom I’ve walked for a time who have wished that we could continue down that road, but I am comfortable in knowing that any of them are adult enough to accept that the fit is not there and not allow the closure to feel like a stab wound.  I’m gentle but intense in my approach to the possibility of love.  I begin any introduction with any man with a full measure of honesty, respect, and openness.  I give full benefit of any doubt (once I’ve done whatever due diligence I am able to do prior to actually deciding to meet in person) and walk forth under the assumption that he is good, kind, honest, trustworthy, respectable, respectful, responsible, hard working, thoughtful, and intelligent.  I begin with no walls.  Completely open.  Honest, forward, direct, and loving.  I go forth, openly, all the while watching and listening, looking for signs, attitudes, behaviors –things that could begin to reduce that full measure of respect.  I may begin to raise the wall between us, as things reveal themselves, and the full measure begins to diminish.  When I recognize this, there comes a point where I ask to talk about things, and I call an end to the journey.  Sometimes it comes as a surprise, but I suspect that usually it’s no surprise at all.  Not that it feels any better, but it’s necessary.  Life is such a precious gift, and if you know that the path you are on is not on a trajectory that maximizes joy, then it’s so very important to alter that path.

To the outside world, this probably looks like I’m a woman with a bright neon “Commitment Issues!” sign blazing above my head, because that’s the evidence that shows.  Maybe that’s true, but I have no problem committing to my work, or my family.  Maybe what this truly reflects is a commitment to myself.  Life is too precious to squander on a wrong fit.  I’ve gotten so much better at recognizing a poor fit, but I’m at a loss to recognize a good fit.  It’s uncharted territory, really.  I want peace and harmony.  I want kindness and love.  I want comfort and understanding.  I want deep and meaningful intimacy.  I want laughter and silliness.  I want enthusiasm and wit.  I want respect and contentedness.   I have all of these things and more to share with my one and only.  I want us to not only bring these things out in each other, but to amplify them!

I wonder how I will know.   Maybe I will just know.  Maybe he and I will just be, as if we never were anything but who we are, together.

I guess one of the most important things for me to acknowledge at this stage of the journey is that I am truly healed and healing from both the old and the fresh wounds, and I am not in any sort of rebound mode.  I feel strong within my core.  I am at peace with myself, and I am at peace with all the men who I’ve let go.  Not that I know whether they have made their internal peace with me, but I am not harboring guilt or sorrow or fear or concern over the fact that we do not fit.  I never mean harm, and the last thing I ever want to do is hurt another.  I know my heart has been pure.  My intentions have always been good.  This isn’t to say that no harm has ever been done, that no hurt has been experienced.  It’s only to say that my intentions have always been for the best.  And always, always, I hope that the next one will be the last one.

breaking brokenness

Posted in love, me, men