I had no intention of writing today. None.
Work is busy, hectic, crazy and there are many things piled high on my desk begging for my attention. Yet, after responding to T’s comment, I am drawn down into the murkiness of my own fears. Now, I just want to write. Damn you T! 😉
Loss and fear. Always intertwined. My loss has created my fear. Fear centered around passionate, extraordinary and very simple love. I’ve experienced it and have grown because of it. The fear is I will not have it again.
I used to tell B he loved me differently. Deeply, honestly, without blinders.
He knew me far better than the man I’d been married to for so many years. B wanted, longed, needed to know me, all of me – the good and the bad — it was a necessary factor in the equation.
In the beginning it was kind of scary. Not just the depth of the questions he would ask, but the depth of the answers I heard myself giving. No one had ever asked the questions and certainly no one had ever acted as if their life depended on the answers, no matter what the answers were.
How many times had I heard “two people in a relationship should lift each other up – not tear each other down?” How many times had I wondered what that looked like?
With B, I lived in a love that was intimate, sensual and life changing. I respected and loved very deeply the man, his character, his abilities, and his sense of self. The fact that he had dreamy eyes, an awesome body, perfect lips, extraordinary hands and a heart full of tenderness and compassion were only added bonuses. I trusted him with my deepest secrets, strongest desires and most sacred dreams. He protected them all with his life.
Was it perfect and always blissful? Nope. Not even.
We disagreed on many topics. We had many hard, brutally honest and painful conversations. I enjoyed (sometimes a little too much) questioning his beliefs, thoughts, feelings on a variety of topics. I enjoyed it because he didn’t shy away from the debate. He always came to the table with an open mind and listened to my opinions as if they mattered. While he rarely changed his mind (on certain subjects), he never tried to force me to change mine. What I believed helped make me, me. And quite simply, he loved me. Completely.
This breakup, while painful, was right. I am grateful for the experience of knowing extraordinary love.
I want to know it again and I fear that I may not.