What I'm Learning About Love, Part II

In January of this year, I made a New Year's resolution that I would have no romantic relationships in 2017. I knew (in some vague sense) that I wasn't ready and needed to focus on myself. About two weeks later, I started talking to a man I came to care about very much. I also knew, from the beginning, that I wouldn't be able to take this relationship anywhere close to marriage (which is sort of a deal-breaker for Mormons), though I was afraid to tell him that until we'd been talking for almost two months. I finally told him what I felt and it was over. In a lot of ways, that break was more painful than the split from my ex-husband, likely because my divorce was coming on for a long time and I'd numbed myself to the pain long before we actually separated. This new break, however, happened when I was opening my heart back up. The new pain burned like fire through my heart and veins, rekindling the old pain and doubling my suffering. Ouch.

Almost four months later, I felt pretty well healed (though I knew I still had a lot of growing to do) and I tentatively dipped my toe into the dating world again. I went on a couple casual dates and had a great time. Then I went on a few dates with one really good man. I felt at peace about it. It went very slowly, which is exactly what I needed. I was feeling good about all of it until one night, as I sat outside the temple, when I suddenly knew in my heart and mind that I needed to back off again. I was angry, I was hurt, I was sad. But I was committed, and had been for a while at that point, to doing whatever God asked me to do. Even in my pain, I cried out to Him, "I will do whatsoever Thou asks of me. Even if it breaks my heart, I will do it because I trust Thee. I will do it because I love Thee. I will make any sacrifice for Thee."

This break hurt, fiercely. Again, it brought up the pain from the old breaks. I didn't get as close to this third man as I had the first two, but it hurt all the same. In some ways, the pain was tripled, as it set off the old wounds again. Interestingly, my suffering was more intense but much shorter-lived this time. Heeding God's will so much earlier on in the process was harder, as I had to fight myself so much more (there was no natural breakdown of the relationship at that point), but it also meant that I healed more quickly. 

And, of course, I find myself shaming myself for getting so attached, for feeling so devastated by these breaks. I grew up shaming myself for sadness and pain, so it's kind of awkward to write this all out and share it with the world. But putting words to my emotions, as I've talked about several times before, lessens their destructive hold on me and puts me back in control. 

Putting my feelings, thoughts, and experiences into words also shows me my patterns, my mistakes, the lessons I can learn, so much more clearly. I see the unhealthy roles I've settled into in my relationships with men, why I've always done that, and how I can begin to change. I can see where I've failed to set boundaries and why. I can see where I've failed to respect others' boundaries and why. I can see how and why I've depended too much, emotionally, on others. The more I talk and write about these things, the more "real" they seem to me, the more legitimate they seem, the more within my control they seem. The more I talk about them, the more I can control them, rather than the other way around.

It also shows me how much I've healed, how far I've come. Just reading things I wrote or listening to videos I made from six months or a year ago is stunning to me. I fully remember the pain, the excitement, the anguish, the joy, the fear, the uncertainty that I was feeling at the time, but I also feel slightly confused. "I completely forgot that's where I was a year/six months ago. Wow. I'm so glad I'm not there anymore! How did I get past that? How did I get to where I am today?" But I don't have to wonder - I have a paper trail. I can follow my own progress. I can own every thought and feeling. Even the awkward confessions I reread now often dazzle me. I've always been much more competent than I gave myself credit for, and writing things down finally gives me real proof of that. I owned my stuff then and I can own it now. I can make it all so clear for myself by translating emotion into written or spoken language.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned from these three breaks, from writing things down, from becoming self aware and drawing closer to God, is that I need to do two huge things before I'll really be ready for a relationship. 

1. I need to become fully myself. I need to know myself, be comfortable being myself always. I need to know what I want and where I'm going. I need to be confident in my ability to care for myself and my children. I need to be able to interact with others without worrying what they think of me. I need to be in tune with my inner voice enough that I don't start doubting and hating myself the moment someone questions my decisions. Which leads into my second goal...

2. I need to become fully God's. I need to know Him, have a close relationship with Him, check in with Him daily, hourly even. I need to be familiar with His voice, aligned with His will enough that it becomes second nature to do it. Not because I'm afraid of Him, but because I know how well He loves me and I trust His wisdom, mercy, compassion, and justice. There are so, so many ways I can come to know Him, and I am excited to explore all of them. I trust that He will, eventually, lead me to a man who is also fully himself and fully God's and that together, this man and I can make a powerful, though certainly imperfect, team. 

The things I've learned from these three heartbreaks over the last year have been painful. I'm willing to put myself through this again, if God asks me to, but I hope He doesn't. And I hope and pray that I will have the strength to avoid putting myself through it again out of sheer loneliness. 

I need to be comfortable being fully myself and fully God's before I can be comfortable being anyone else's. And as intimidating as it sometimes feels to try to get to that point, the progress I've already made is incredible. I know I can do this.