An Open Letter to my Ghosts
I've been doing the dating thing for just over a month now. It started with trepidation, but also with hope. I thought maybe I could do this thing called love, whatever it is. The smoke, however, is clearing the room and exposing mirrors and harsh lights.
My Buddhist learnings say each moment, this moment, is a teacher. We're all where we are in each moment to learn what we need to, not necessarily what we want to.
When I was tucked into a meditation on me in the early days of single and alone, I spent vast hours considering where I would go from there. I looked at my holes and began gathering the sand bags, on my own, that would be necessary to fill them. I started to look at myself without the aid of another set of eyes. I began to see myself for the first time. I saw everything I'd done that as wrecked havoc on those relationships that meant the most to me. I fought to break those habits which were distractions from the truths I had to face. I started making the changes I needed to make.
Among the ideas I pondered, was the concept of being alone. Not on some nomad journey in uncharted land wherein I would greet no faces by own. Rather I contemplated a live full of loving everyone so much that settling with one might be unthinkable. It might serve as an entrapment for both me and them. As such, I was happy being single. I had my life with me, and a life with everyone else. I was happier than I'd ever been.
I wonder what lesson I'm to learn from this moment because the face I see in the mirror is not the same guy who was there sans dating . The fact that this isn't the first time is somehow disturbing. My brain wavers between believing that I suck so extremely at this that I should quit, and believing that what ended over a year ago has broken me more than I cared to admit.
I find myself holding on to the idea that we only get one real chance and that I, or we, messed it up. Then, too, I consider that it went exactly how it should. That somehow our one chance was destined for a shorter life than some get. Take my mom and dad as an example. They had a love that was undeniably their one and through neither fault of their own, it was a short one. Eighteen years later, my dad is still alone and still swears that it is how it should be. He got his big love and nothing could compare and so he holds that space for her indefinitely. I know I have not met everyone there is to meet, but I find that none so far compare. In my innocent and youth, I lectured my dad near and far about how comparing was unfair, how set everything up for failure, yet somehow I finally understand.
There is nothing about this woman that says I shouldn't be with her. No grand faults, no lack of give and take or equal partnership. In fact, in those first weeks, I rediscovered a place that I hadn't seen since I was a dyke. I can't quite articulate that. It was beautiful when I found it but it is past and not my current. And perhaps it is a fault of mine, I don't know how to make it my current again.
I have moments with her wherein my eyes do that thing they do, and I am nowhere but in the world with her, but I can't make it stay the way it did before. I can't overlook her flaws, can't see past her differences the way I could. My dad is right, it feels unfair.
I find this starting over to be exhausting. Learning where to push, and where to breathe. Learning when to speak my mind, and when to hold my tongue. I long for that time when it was easy. A time when I loved so hard that it wasn't hard. What hurts even more is that it doesn't seem hard for her. She wants to push through things and learn and grow, "we'll get through this," and I find myself wanting to retreat. I want to sit quietly in a room all alone. It's become easier to sit in a room all alone.
I don't know what love is anymore. I don't know if exists as I thought it to when I was younger, or as I thought it did when I met it last time. With that, I don't know if it is right to stay or if I should let her go. Leaving her now would break her heart, but I'm terrified that staying will, too.
My Buddhist learnings say each moment, this moment, is a teacher. We're all where we are in each moment to learn what we need to, not necessarily what we want to.
When I was tucked into a meditation on me in the early days of single and alone, I spent vast hours considering where I would go from there. I looked at my holes and began gathering the sand bags, on my own, that would be necessary to fill them. I started to look at myself without the aid of another set of eyes. I began to see myself for the first time. I saw everything I'd done that as wrecked havoc on those relationships that meant the most to me. I fought to break those habits which were distractions from the truths I had to face. I started making the changes I needed to make.
Among the ideas I pondered, was the concept of being alone. Not on some nomad journey in uncharted land wherein I would greet no faces by own. Rather I contemplated a live full of loving everyone so much that settling with one might be unthinkable. It might serve as an entrapment for both me and them. As such, I was happy being single. I had my life with me, and a life with everyone else. I was happier than I'd ever been.
I wonder what lesson I'm to learn from this moment because the face I see in the mirror is not the same guy who was there sans dating . The fact that this isn't the first time is somehow disturbing. My brain wavers between believing that I suck so extremely at this that I should quit, and believing that what ended over a year ago has broken me more than I cared to admit.
I find myself holding on to the idea that we only get one real chance and that I, or we, messed it up. Then, too, I consider that it went exactly how it should. That somehow our one chance was destined for a shorter life than some get. Take my mom and dad as an example. They had a love that was undeniably their one and through neither fault of their own, it was a short one. Eighteen years later, my dad is still alone and still swears that it is how it should be. He got his big love and nothing could compare and so he holds that space for her indefinitely. I know I have not met everyone there is to meet, but I find that none so far compare. In my innocent and youth, I lectured my dad near and far about how comparing was unfair, how set everything up for failure, yet somehow I finally understand.
There is nothing about this woman that says I shouldn't be with her. No grand faults, no lack of give and take or equal partnership. In fact, in those first weeks, I rediscovered a place that I hadn't seen since I was a dyke. I can't quite articulate that. It was beautiful when I found it but it is past and not my current. And perhaps it is a fault of mine, I don't know how to make it my current again.
I have moments with her wherein my eyes do that thing they do, and I am nowhere but in the world with her, but I can't make it stay the way it did before. I can't overlook her flaws, can't see past her differences the way I could. My dad is right, it feels unfair.
I find this starting over to be exhausting. Learning where to push, and where to breathe. Learning when to speak my mind, and when to hold my tongue. I long for that time when it was easy. A time when I loved so hard that it wasn't hard. What hurts even more is that it doesn't seem hard for her. She wants to push through things and learn and grow, "we'll get through this," and I find myself wanting to retreat. I want to sit quietly in a room all alone. It's become easier to sit in a room all alone.
I don't know what love is anymore. I don't know if exists as I thought it to when I was younger, or as I thought it did when I met it last time. With that, I don't know if it is right to stay or if I should let her go. Leaving her now would break her heart, but I'm terrified that staying will, too.