It was August. I
had just moved back to Oregon from Hawaii with a half broken heart and unsteady
grounding. No place to live, a car with everything I owned and a love 2,000
miles away from me. My plans to move to the mainland with my partner had fallen
through, he wasn’t ready. Bull-headed and strong willed, I told myself I had to
do it with or without my island lover; that I was a strong independent woman
and I could do anything alone.
That is how it
started.
I was officially
severed from my island flame and the pain…. It was overwhelming. I didn’t know
it at the time, but I did everything in my power not to feel it.
My new coworker
invited me out salsa dancing. I don’t salsa. Anything with certain rules and
steps to do something is not my forte. Everything about me screams, “I do it my
way!” It terrified me to be put in a room with a bunch of experienced dancers
glistening and flitting around effortlessly. So I said “yes”, I’d at least try
it out.
The moment I
walked in I regretted my decision. Hair a mess, super-glued flip-flops and
tired eyes, I felt so out of place. Immediately, a young handsome-enough fellow
walked up and asked my friend to dance. “WHAT THE HECK, THEY HAVE TO ASK US TO
DANCE?! Kill me now!” I kept thinking.
Out of the blue,
like I would soon learn is his signature, a man with long blond hair tucked
neatly in a bun and a shiny nose ring approached me. Gently he asked me to
dance. No fucking way. Nope. Not dancing. I kindly declined. He asked again.
No thank you, I would rather just watch. “Come on, I’ll teach you,” he said arm
reaching for me. Fine, face your fear Amanda. And so I danced.
We stood face to
face, strangers, smiling at one another. He held my hand softly and I let him.
I couldn’t trust him to lead me. I went the wrong way each time to spin. I
stepped left instead of right and he just smiled and went with it. We sat down,
talking for hours. He was an artist in everyway of the definition. He was shy,
his body not facing mine fully. Yet he was engaging and warm. His almond eyes
smiled at me while his mouth spoke. I heard his words; I felt his soothing,
grounding energy. I was just newly single and no, I did not want to love this
quickly.
That night we went our
separate ways yet our hearts stayed connected. I slept for all about two hours.
My body was pulsing with magnetic energy. What is going on?! This has never
happened to me! And all I could think about was him.
The next day he
asked me to go to a BBQ with all of his friends. I was terrified to meet
everyone already, so of course, I said yes. We sat next to each other talking
to the other’s friends, yet our energy was being shared. I invited them
dancing, of course they went.
Time flew by yet
slowed down. We were together from the day we met. It felt like we had been
together for lifetimes. He told me he hadn’t dated anyone for a couple of years.
That he does things slowly. And he did, so uniquely. He was particular with
many things. He didn’t like when I borrowed his clothes. He had to go home
after each sleepover because he had a routine. He was religious and believed
his sexuality mustn't be expressed fully until marriage. He did not like to drink but didn’t care
if I did. He liked to wear his shoes in my house. That was all his stuff, and I
accepted it and embraced him.
I surprised him
with my responses to his actions. He uninvited me to a work party and I
understood; it was not about me. He decided to go home one weekend on a whim
leaving our plans hanging, he needed some alone time, I understood. No, I am no
fucking Buddha. Some of his actions cut deep and I knew it wasn’t about me. My
anxiety began to creep, leaving me spinning on my days off work.
He spoke of how
he felt like he wasn’t a good boyfriend, that he felt unsure of everything.
That his heart wouldn’t allow him to love, that he had never been in love. That
he couldn’t give me what I wanted. Ladies and gents, when people tell you they
cannot love you, please believe them.
I calmly told
him it was okay. And I believed myself. That he was being too harsh on himself.
That he was not selfish. That I cared about him and that he could love and it didn’t have to be with
me. I assured him of what I knew was true in my soul. Love is everywhere and
all we need to do it let it in.
We began to
argue. He was battling an internal battle and I had no say in what was the
outcome. He wanted to be everything to me but couldn’t be vulnerable enough to
let me in. I loved this man. I didn’t care if he didn’t love me yet, I saw a
future. It was a different kind of love. I craved time away from him as much as
I yearned for his love. I knew I needed to be single. I felt it in every inch
of my being.
Being single…. It seemed too
fucking scary! Everyone at my work place has partners and all my friends are
settling down. How the fuck am I going to navigate this love struck town as a
single girl?
He kept
expressing his worry about our trip to see my college friends. He was worried I was going to party too hard. I assured him it would be fine, that he would love them.
Fast forward to
a particular Saturday that I forgot to eat before drinking for the first time
in months. This isn’t who I am anymore. I got sick. He wasn’t happy. I bailed
on going out, I couldn’t. I lay in my bed when I got home and things spiraled.
I don’t remember the exact words that were exchanged. I remember like a movie
telling him, “If you walk out, we are never dating again. I don’t do this thing
twice”. And he walked out. Quickly. Without turning back.
I followed him.
He brought me home. Just as quickly as he danced his way into my life, he
disappeared leaving his imprint on my heart.
He has not tried
to reach out to me. He does things his way. I accept that. They say that when
someone walks out of your life, let them.
I don’t usually
give up on things — I fight until I am exhausted, and then I fight some more.
This is where I am learning.
Trusting.
Everything that
happens, happens for us. Not to us.
That some people are in our lives to teach us important lessons, and then they leave.
He taught me so
much about myself, himself, others, what it really means to be open and when
silence is just as important as words. He taught me about hard work, both in
the professional and the personal sense. He changed my view on
relationships and what I really want in a partner.
I used to believe that
relationships are always supposed to be full of excitement, intense emotions
and deep romantic love. I have now changed my mind. Relationships are what they
blossom in to; with each person it will be different. The difference in each
one is what makes it beautiful and unique.
The hurt, the tears, the thoughts… they all will come and go. Some days it will be difficult to get out of bed and live the life I created. And I can do it.
The only thing I can do, we can do, is to feel these feels. Wholly, entirely, and know everything works out exactly as it should. That with every heart ache and heart break, our hearts expand a little more. It fucking hurts. Terribly. And with the hurt comes more love.
Love has not tainted me, it teaches me. Every severance has ingrained in me new wisdom, new scars, to remind me that I am alive and loving.
Hard.
