I regularly marvel at the gift of time, particularly when it comes to a broken heart. Someone reminding you that “time heals” doesn’t help when you’re in the thick of suffering, but months out it’s hard not to accept how very true it is.
For the past month I have been spending time with a lovely man. I was reminded what it was like to have someone there beside you in the kitchen, next to you in bed, texting you to say good morning. I marveled at it all. How different it felt- how I seemed to be watching it all unfold without getting sucked in. And then after weeks of long walks and late night trysts, I realized, unprepared as I was, that his sweet gaze was not one of a periodic lover. And his plans for the future and meeting his friends were not either. And like a person frozen in the path of a scary wild animal, I began to retreat. I fell into something of a panic, engulfed by the fear of being consumed.
But then, instead of fading away, as is my pattern (that or sticking around for years too long), I stood up, took a deep breath and walked towards what was terrifying me. I had the conversation. I looked at this sweet man and told him honestly that he was fantastic but I was not looking for a man right now, regardless of how wonderful he was. I didn’t want a boyfriend and I definitely didn’t want to break his heart. He heard me. No games; no disappearing act; no fear of being trapped; no panic. History was made.
After our conversation I began to recognize how much I was willing to fight for this freedom right now. It just feels so fertile. So very important. A chance to dig in deep and make sure that I’ve cultivated all of the things in myself that I want to maintain going forward. I want to be sure I’m showing up and being honest with where I’m at. This, so that when I am ready to date again, I can stay rooted in who I am and share the fruit of that commitment with someone who deserves such sweetness.