Peace

I like sunflowers, Gerber daisies. I had told him I wasn't a flower girl... no red roses for me! Certainly no carnations. I took away some of the sweetness that exists between men and women by doing that. All of the songs about bringing your girl home flowers to show you care... the one thing men are programmed to do, the easy fix. Because flowers die. Mostly because I forget about them, or don't pay enough attention. Maybe if I slowed down, thought about it... I'd get it. It's not the actual flowers. It's the thought.

There's these little pieces of sweetness that I take away by being so practical. I butcher good intentions with my sensibility, and then I wonder what happened. It's my own little slice of relationship self-sabotage. Because deep down, all I want is to be left alone. Can't get hurt when you're alone.

Maybe I don't, but all signs point to singlehood.  For the last year, I have dated the unavailable (either emotionally or mentally or physically) and thrown myself into making impossible situations work. Inevitably they don't, and then I get all butt hurt for a minute and blame the very person I most likely subconsciously chose to avoid any real commitment. All will be going fine until one day, they look at me with big hurty eyes and spew some version of the following sentiment at me: "You are the perfect woman. I just don't think I'm ready for you yet." So I'm constantly getting dumped for being 50 shades of amazing. Which basically makes me wanna tattoo "what. the. efffffffffff" across my forehead all while thinking that I am totally un-lovable and that I'll eventually die completely alone, my ashes mixed with those of my dog.

What I seem to be missing is this: my divorce slayed me. When I picked up and moved on and made myself harder, stronger against that kind of betrayal, I forgot to tend to the broken, hurt and wronged little girl inside of me. The one who let someone in, trusted them without question and truly believed that love can last forever. The one who found a computer screen left open one day that opened my eyes to a world I didn't even know existed. The girl who, as a wife, chased her husband down into the deep seedy corners of the city to figure out what was going on; who spied to find out if the marriage counseling was even worth pursuing. A relationship that lasted for less than two years had such great impact...all because we took vows.

The last guy was just going through a divorce. Maybe I thought I could travel the journey with him, experience it and heal my own wounds with it. Certainly not healthy. And about thirteen seconds after he ended us, I fell into something with someone else. This guy, I look into his eyes and know he fits into my life somewhere.  We moved so ridiculously fast at first until we got to the point one day where we both couldn't wait to tell each other that we needed to slow down.

This guy with the eyes, how I appreciate him for letting me have some space to figure myself out. How I adore him for recognizing that he had to do the same for me.

So I sit, and I write, and I work, and I connect with old friends, people who knew the hopeful me. I raise my son and tell him how special and important and smart he is. I teach my dog how to sit and stay and walk nice on a leash. And somewhere, in the midst of all this, I heal.

I realize that I don't need to prove to anyone, myself included, that I'm capable of a relationship.

I re-write my goals, discard my time lines and I give up my cruel and unrealistic expectations of myself, both singularly and in a relationship.

I RSVP just me for many events, and find peace that I can talk to other people while I'm there. I think of how nice it will be to meet people I don't know, how I won't be segregated by tending to a date who might not be the most comfortable in the situation.

And I have faith in what will be. There's things in this world beyond any one's control. The best thing you can do is to take care of yourself so that you'll be ready when the time comes. There's great peace in this.