Wouldn’t it be nice?

Wouldn’t it be nice if things lined up or worked out just once in a while?

So I’ll continue my story…because what else can I do? I sit here trying to practice the art of letting go and failing miserably today…I have moments of “okay” and more moments of not okay…

I am not okay, it feels good to say it. I’m not talking about my professional leap of faith…that actually feels great. I am talking about where I now stand personally…

So after almost five months of praying, wishing, hoping, meditating, begging, bargaining and experiencing all the horrible symptoms and stages of grieving I finally have all the prayers answered and this man comes back into my life. The initial feeling of overwhelming gratitude and relief that I felt was as life changing as the realization during my camping trip that the Universe was listening and guiding me. Like I said it brought me to my knees.

Our initial conversation was basically me word vomiting everything I had felt and everything I ever wanted him to know for fear that it would be my last opportunity. So I laid it all out. I told him the personal hell that had been the last four months and how there wasn’t a single day that went by that I didn’t miss him and the girls, that I was often left crumpled in the bathroom floor or shower unable to breathe because the loss was so consuming. I told him that I loved him more than I have ever loved another human being on this earth. I told him that I had an infinite supply of unconditional wealth and resources available. I told him that I was not going to quietly accept this opportunity because right now in this moment I had nothing of him so I had nothing to lose.

I told him that no amount of passing time had dulled the light that I looked upon him with. And then I asked him if I imagined our relationship, if I imagined our connection, if I made the whole thing up in my head…

I left my soul bare and exposed,  I waited for the response, my jugular tilted up waiting for him to sink his teeth in so I could bleed out of this torment…

and he told me it was real, that it wasn’t imagined and that we were connected…and more tears came because it meant that I wasn’t crazy, that I really did have this exquisite connection and I could trust myself again.

And I was naïve enough to think in that moment WE were going to be okay…and that WE were going to be a WE again.

He then told me that he wasn’t going to rehash the past and he didn’t wish to discuss things all at once and I agreed to take it slow and talk in small increments, trying to be respectful of his delicate state. He had cracked open the door and although I once imagined him bursting through that door and scooping me up in his arms and kissing me passionately, apologizing with his lips for leaving me in the manner that he did, I quickly learned that this would not be the case.

I learned that I was still back on his time, his rules, his way or not at all. I’m not going to lie, I was disappointed. I thought the very admission that the relationship was real for both of us would be enough to get past that hurdle. It wasn’t to be.

My friends and family describe me as a “100%'” girl. I am 100% all of the time, in everything I do or I simply don’t do it, especially in relationships. I want 100% because I often give more than 100%.

All or nothing, you are either in with me or you’re not. I don’t have the heart or mind for indifference.

So I felt as though I was getting about 20% from him and although I was willing to move at his pace I felt that communication was going to be paramount to navigating our way back into each other’s lives. I was wrong. He didn’t wish to have any communication. He barely responded to text. If he initiated and I responded the conversations (always superficial) would end when he decided to simply stop responding. If I called it went to voice mail. We spoke 3 times on the phone in the month since he entered my life. The first conversation was the one above, the subsequent 2 were unimportant banter about a little of everything. When I laid in bed next to him the second time I asked if we could discuss a few things because I hate to fester. I prefer to get things out in the open and deal with it head on.

We spoke for about 10 minutes and it went very much in the way of our text conversations. Nothing ever truly addressed, no direction, no boundaries just shut down. So I willed myself to be in the moment and in that moment I was laying in bed next to the man I was madly in love with. My prayers answered. I drank him in. I inhaled deeply, his scent my favorite smell on earth. I ran my hands over his shoulders and traced the muscles in his back and choked back tears.

And again naively believed WE would be okay…


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