Over the past 18+ months I’ve come to several stark, painful and needed conclusions. I’ve written (ad nauseam, I know) about my change in viewing the universe and the events that occur…not to me but that affect my ego and my comfort.
One of the more difficult transitions has been my relationship with my wife. Bear with me, this is a topic that can become maudlin quickly and be overly simplified and romanticized. I don’t really edit these posts (as is clearly evident) for content…nor do I outline them in advance.
Back to the transition. To understand how where I am is so different let’s start with where I was. I had the notion that I was exceptional and thus my love life was going to be so, as well. I saw the movies and TV shows with the “you’re the only one for me” and the perfect couples and wanted that to happen to/for me, as well.
When I ‘committed’ to someone I made that person my whole world. My raison d’être. It may surprise my exes to read that but let me explain. My whole world was wrapped up in how they made me feel. If they loved me, touched me, or made love to me then they cared about me. If they didn’t or they argued I felt horrible about myself. In short, my ego was completely consumed by the relationship. I didn’t exist outside of it in any way. When the inevitable happened and there was conflict I ignored it and let it become a resentment. Over time and with each failure I learned that I needed to ‘fake’ perfection better. I needed to hide the mess I was and felt away from my partner. So much so that the resentment that they didn’t fill whatever need I didn’t verbalize became too much.
So I drank. Or I had affairs. Or I drifted off emotionally. Or I became so insufferable that the woman would have to break off all contact with me. I couldn’t let the relationship just be. I had to hold onto it as tight as possible…squeezing the life out of it. I somehow made every decision a make or break scenario for my ego.
In short, I was insufferable and suffering. That hubris that had me believing that it would all work out no matter how much I fucked up carried over into my relationships. I’ll be fine no matter how far I drag myself down away from my core.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, it was probably gradual as all good epiphanies are, but I came to the realization that I have to exist outside of the relationship, too. Not just ‘too’ but mainly. It isn’t my job to make the other person love me, I can’t do that. All I can do is provide a safe space for them to accept whatever love I have to give. I can’t ask for any in return- I just have to believe that my love is enough of a gift as it is. I endeavor to create a space…every chance I get…for my wife to breathe and just be.
Ironically, I’ve had less sex than I have had for as long as I can remember but I only miss it a bit. The overall surety and comfort that I feel…and the feeling that I am enough…has been enough to keep my ego intact. I’m not constantly asking for attention or assurance. I’m not acting like that kid in the back seat that constantly talks with nothing to say. I’m just me…on the couch…quieter.
I’ve come to realize that the more I looked to hold onto love the less I felt it. Love is like a breeze. When one closes windows and doors to hold it in one is really keeping it out.
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