The Snowball Effect
My McDonalds construction winker yesterday set in motion a series of events that made for a very nice day. My husband gasped in mock indignation as I grinned like a schoolgirl while telling him about what happened, then he spent the evening making up for the fact that it was the McDonalds guy that made my day. He even woke me up in the middle of the night to flirt with me - sweet whispers of the depth of his love tickled my ear as he snuggled closer to me, warming me against the cool night air wafting through the open window.
Pay day.
Naturally, I snuggled close beside him and went right back to sleep, but when I woke up this morning everything he said came fresh into my mind. Not his exact words but his feelings. I know now that there are some things you can believe beyond a shadow of a doubt. And I feel guilty.
We’ve been together for many years, and I love that man, I really do. But doing so has taken a toll on me I’m convinced I couldn’t pay again. I’m pretty sure that all relationships come with a price. I know with each year I grow older that I’ve gained wisdom since the last time I got older, but there always seems to be an exception. Somewhere along the way, it becomes apparent, exception rules and it is easy to end up feeling like you’ve been the world’s biggest fool.
Many times in my life I’ve made statements about what I will or will not accept, tolerate, whatever. I remember one time hearing a girl say about her boyfriend of many years, “He brought everything I said I never wanted right to my door.” Then I wondered, why does she stay with him? But I had yet to pay the price that was mine. It’s also said that true love never dies. I guess it doesn’t, but it carries with it the power of destruction. It can fill you to overflowing and leave you beaten to nothingness, all within the span of a broken heartbeat.
I’ve experienced the nothingness, and I’ve sheltered myself against it with such dedication, I realized as he whispered to me in the dark of the night that it’s taken away from me as much, if not more, than it’s protected me from. While I made sure I would never again be beaten down by my love for him, I’ve kept it from giving me anything. Kept him from getting anything from it. I've been afraid.
Fear. It can make us choose to avoid the happiness we long for in order to avoid the risk of the pain that kind of happiness commands when it goes wrong. And so I’ve lived the last several years floating somewhere in this happy medium I had built for myself. Mind made up, heart safely guarded from the risks of what could be, as well as from the promise of what could be. No all. No nothing. Just somewhere in between.
I had settled into what I thought was a safe place and I’ve made us both lonely, I think. I tried to have it and remove the risk. There is no such thing in love, I think, as safe from. I think that in love, you’re laid bare - open to it all. Risking everything. I think maybe there is no other way. No other real love. It is that way with my kids. Nothing I wouldn’t do. No risk I wouldn’t take. No price I wouldn’t pay for them.
Love brings all those things you don’t want, the risk of things you’re sure you can’t survive – not once, and surely not a second time, right to your front door. It forces you to choose. To risk. All or nothing. Not somewhere in between.
I feel I owe us both an apology. What he has taken from me, I’ve lost and taken pound for pound of wounded flesh from him.
Last night, for the first time in years, I trusted him and what he said is in his heart. This morning I tried to embrace it while still keeping myself safe from it, but I want more. I want it all. Not something in between.
My McDonalds construction winker yesterday set in motion a series of events that made for a very nice day. My husband gasped in mock indignation as I grinned like a schoolgirl while telling him about what happened, then he spent the evening making up for the fact that it was the McDonalds guy that made my day. He even woke me up in the middle of the night to flirt with me - sweet whispers of the depth of his love tickled my ear as he snuggled closer to me, warming me against the cool night air wafting through the open window.
Pay day.
Naturally, I snuggled close beside him and went right back to sleep, but when I woke up this morning everything he said came fresh into my mind. Not his exact words but his feelings. I know now that there are some things you can believe beyond a shadow of a doubt. And I feel guilty.
We’ve been together for many years, and I love that man, I really do. But doing so has taken a toll on me I’m convinced I couldn’t pay again. I’m pretty sure that all relationships come with a price. I know with each year I grow older that I’ve gained wisdom since the last time I got older, but there always seems to be an exception. Somewhere along the way, it becomes apparent, exception rules and it is easy to end up feeling like you’ve been the world’s biggest fool.
Many times in my life I’ve made statements about what I will or will not accept, tolerate, whatever. I remember one time hearing a girl say about her boyfriend of many years, “He brought everything I said I never wanted right to my door.” Then I wondered, why does she stay with him? But I had yet to pay the price that was mine. It’s also said that true love never dies. I guess it doesn’t, but it carries with it the power of destruction. It can fill you to overflowing and leave you beaten to nothingness, all within the span of a broken heartbeat.
I’ve experienced the nothingness, and I’ve sheltered myself against it with such dedication, I realized as he whispered to me in the dark of the night that it’s taken away from me as much, if not more, than it’s protected me from. While I made sure I would never again be beaten down by my love for him, I’ve kept it from giving me anything. Kept him from getting anything from it. I've been afraid.
Fear. It can make us choose to avoid the happiness we long for in order to avoid the risk of the pain that kind of happiness commands when it goes wrong. And so I’ve lived the last several years floating somewhere in this happy medium I had built for myself. Mind made up, heart safely guarded from the risks of what could be, as well as from the promise of what could be. No all. No nothing. Just somewhere in between.
I had settled into what I thought was a safe place and I’ve made us both lonely, I think. I tried to have it and remove the risk. There is no such thing in love, I think, as safe from. I think that in love, you’re laid bare - open to it all. Risking everything. I think maybe there is no other way. No other real love. It is that way with my kids. Nothing I wouldn’t do. No risk I wouldn’t take. No price I wouldn’t pay for them.
Love brings all those things you don’t want, the risk of things you’re sure you can’t survive – not once, and surely not a second time, right to your front door. It forces you to choose. To risk. All or nothing. Not somewhere in between.
I feel I owe us both an apology. What he has taken from me, I’ve lost and taken pound for pound of wounded flesh from him.
Last night, for the first time in years, I trusted him and what he said is in his heart. This morning I tried to embrace it while still keeping myself safe from it, but I want more. I want it all. Not something in between.
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