Crisp leaves. Changing colors. Cooler temps. These things just don't appeal to me like they do to other people. I remember living in Connecticut and people raving about how great the foliage there was. Sure, there were about two weeks (if it didn't rain too much) of beautiful leaves.You know what happened after that? All the leaves fell off the trees, turned brown, and then it proceeded to be fucking freezing cold for the next six months.
Forgive my wretched mood. The beginning of September brings immense amounts of dread for this girl. It means weeks upon weeks of work travel, which unfailingly causes me to have a breakdown and to get sick. Every. Single. Year. I have done my very best to limit my travel, but there are a lot of trips I just can't avoid. The fall is when shit gets done, and I have to be there if I want to be part of the conversation, even if it's taking place in Colorado or Texas or New Jersey. Why everyone can't just move on down to North Carolina remains a mystery to me.
I fault my upbringing for this mostly. I lived in the same house from age 3 until I left for college. Since then I've practically moved every year, but I've never been good at having my routine interrupted. Also, my family didn't take many trips because we couldn't afford it. A vacation in our world was driving the hour and a half up to Beaufort, SC and staying in the Days Inn to watch my brother play in a soccer tournament. I did love the powdered donuts at the Shoney's breakfast buffet though. That was something at least. I realize that even those getaways were a luxury compared to most other people's lives, but they sure didn't adequately prepare me for a job of jet-setting.
I spent the weekend doing my best to get ready for this stretch of being gone. I did some shopping, stocked up on work essentials, paid my estimated taxes, took donations to Goodwill, and cleared out our junk drawer. I figured the more organized I feel now, the less anxious I will feel being away from home. In some ways, I think it had the opposite effect. I kept saying to myself, "This is the ONLY opportunity you have to do all of this shit!" It was motivating, but also anxiety-building. This morning I woke up with a knot in my stomach.
I know I can do this. I know it will be fine once I get going. The anticipation is always worse than the thing itself, right?
Showing posts with label Transitions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Transitions. Show all posts
The End of the Roarin' Twenties
That's right. Tomorrow I turn thirty, and I am PUMPED, y'all! I am ready to leave behind this decade and enter my next. At the same time, I know a ton of good stuff happened over the last ten years, so I thought I would recap a bit of it here:
Age 20: Moved to Florence, Italy for a semester. Visited France, Spain, Switzerland, England, and Germany. Went para sailing in the Swiss Alps.
Age 21: Figured out that I wanted to be in a helping profession. Saw for the first time systemic poverty, working in a homeless shelter in Charlotte, and decided to go to divinity school to...do something. Did my college honors thesis on motherhood and theology, definitely a first step towards my work today.
Age 22: Interned at the most amazing, feminist-y, non-hierarchical organization EVER. Set up for disappointment at all future employment.
Age 23: Moved into a group house with fellow div school classmates. Proceeded to have the most ridiculous party of all time. The cops came and asked what frat we were. We had to tell them, "The divinity school."
Age 24: Graduated from div school and got the HELL OUT OF THERE AS FAST AS POSSIBLE.
Age 25: Moved to DC. Got the HELL OUT OF CT. All rejoiced. Quit my job and found a new one that I love!
Age 26: Enjoyed the best of DC: getting invited to a meeting at the White House. Yes, it was amazing, and no, it hasn't happened since. Wah wah.
Age 27: Went to Malawi, first trip to the continent. Forever changed. Hired my first employee. Learned how to be a boss. Like a boss.
Age 28: Met my husband to be. Moved to NC. Got our dog Lucy. Got engaged! Quit the blog. Planned the wedding.
Age 29: Married my favorite person. Went on glorious honeymoon. Picked up blogging again. Enjoyed a more settled life in NC.
Can't wait to see what the next 10 years bring!
Age 20: Moved to Florence, Italy for a semester. Visited France, Spain, Switzerland, England, and Germany. Went para sailing in the Swiss Alps.
Age 21: Figured out that I wanted to be in a helping profession. Saw for the first time systemic poverty, working in a homeless shelter in Charlotte, and decided to go to divinity school to...do something. Did my college honors thesis on motherhood and theology, definitely a first step towards my work today.
Age 22: Interned at the most amazing, feminist-y, non-hierarchical organization EVER. Set up for disappointment at all future employment.
Age 23: Moved into a group house with fellow div school classmates. Proceeded to have the most ridiculous party of all time. The cops came and asked what frat we were. We had to tell them, "The divinity school."
Age 24: Graduated from div school and got the HELL OUT OF THERE AS FAST AS POSSIBLE.
Age 25: Moved to DC. Got the HELL OUT OF CT. All rejoiced. Quit my job and found a new one that I love!
Age 26: Enjoyed the best of DC: getting invited to a meeting at the White House. Yes, it was amazing, and no, it hasn't happened since. Wah wah.
Age 27: Went to Malawi, first trip to the continent. Forever changed. Hired my first employee. Learned how to be a boss. Like a boss.
Age 28: Met my husband to be. Moved to NC. Got our dog Lucy. Got engaged! Quit the blog. Planned the wedding.
Age 29: Married my favorite person. Went on glorious honeymoon. Picked up blogging again. Enjoyed a more settled life in NC.
Can't wait to see what the next 10 years bring!
The Most Annoying Question People Ask a Newlywed
No, it isn't "When are you having kids?" I mean, it probably would be if anyone had the balls to actually ask us that, but so far we've been spared the inappropriate questions regarding our plans (or lack thereof) to procreate.* How long that will last is unclear.
So far the most annoying question I've gotten has been the perplexing, somewhat presumptuous inquiry of:"How's married life?"
I get it. Since I got hitched, you're all kind of stumped on how to interact with me now that you can't ask about how the wedding planning is coming along. I get that "how's married life?" seems like a natural question to ask a newlywed. But implicit in the question, at least in my mind, is that it's somehow supposed to be radically different from pre-married life.
Reality check: it isn't--at least for us. Sure, it's kind of fun for me to call MT my hubs, and that's new. We also officially combined our finances, which I will probably write a series of blog entries about at some point. But all in all, life is pretty much exactly the same as it was before April 20th except that now we aren't paying for a wedding anymore. Now THAT'S something to celebrate!
While our wedding day was incredibly special, that was not the day that we committed fully to each other. That process happened long ago and was affirmed each time we worked through a conflict without the threat of leaving or stood beside each other when life threw us a curve ball. And that process will continue now that we're married. The wedding day was just that--a day. The real work and internal changes happened well before we married and will continue long after.
The following reading "Union" by Robert Fulghum encapsulates this beautifully and was what was shared right before we said our vows.
So when people ask me about married life with expectant eyes and genuine smiles, I don't bitch them out. I just happily say, "It's great, just like our life was before."
*I can't even begin to talk about how invasive it is to ask people about their plans to have a family. You're asking about their sex life, their use of birth control, their fertility issues, their futures. GAH! STOP ASKING PEOPLE THIS QUESTION.
So far the most annoying question I've gotten has been the perplexing, somewhat presumptuous inquiry of:"How's married life?"
I get it. Since I got hitched, you're all kind of stumped on how to interact with me now that you can't ask about how the wedding planning is coming along. I get that "how's married life?" seems like a natural question to ask a newlywed. But implicit in the question, at least in my mind, is that it's somehow supposed to be radically different from pre-married life.
Reality check: it isn't--at least for us. Sure, it's kind of fun for me to call MT my hubs, and that's new. We also officially combined our finances, which I will probably write a series of blog entries about at some point. But all in all, life is pretty much exactly the same as it was before April 20th except that now we aren't paying for a wedding anymore. Now THAT'S something to celebrate!
While our wedding day was incredibly special, that was not the day that we committed fully to each other. That process happened long ago and was affirmed each time we worked through a conflict without the threat of leaving or stood beside each other when life threw us a curve ball. And that process will continue now that we're married. The wedding day was just that--a day. The real work and internal changes happened well before we married and will continue long after.
The following reading "Union" by Robert Fulghum encapsulates this beautifully and was what was shared right before we said our vows.
You have known each other from the first glance of acquaintance to this point of commitment. At some point, you decided to marry. From that moment of yes, to this moment of yes, indeed, you have been making commitments in an informal way. All of those conversations that were held in a car, or over a meal, or during long walks – all those conversations that began with, “When we’re married”, and continued with “I will” and “you will” and “we will” – all those late night talks that included “someday” and “somehow” and “maybe” – and all those promises that are unspoken matters of the heart. All these common things, and more, are the real process of a wedding.
The symbolic vows that you are about to make are a way of saying to one another, “You know all those things that we’ve promised, and hoped, and dreamed – well, I meant it all, every word.”
Look at one another and remember this moment in time. Before this moment you have been many things to one another – acquaintance, friend, companion, lover, dancing partner, even teacher, for you have learned much from one another these past few years. Shortly you shall say a few words that will take you across a threshold of life, and things between you will never quite be the same.
For after today you shall say to the world –
This is my husband. This is my wife.
So when people ask me about married life with expectant eyes and genuine smiles, I don't bitch them out. I just happily say, "It's great, just like our life was before."
*I can't even begin to talk about how invasive it is to ask people about their plans to have a family. You're asking about their sex life, their use of birth control, their fertility issues, their futures. GAH! STOP ASKING PEOPLE THIS QUESTION.
Time for a Comeback? Well regardless, I'm coming back!
For you all who can remember ALL the way back to June 21st of last year, you'll recall that I gave up blogging. I needed a break from it. MT (formerly known as Carolina Man) and I were just beginning to plan our wedding, and the last thing I wanted was another place to talk about that. I was determined to stay sane through that process (and I succeeded! Yes, it is possible to plan a wedding and not go completely batshit crazy.) So, the blog was what ended up on the chopping block.
Fast forward to a few weeks after we returned from a beautiful honeymoon in the Grenadine Islands (never heard of them? Yeah, that was kind of the point), I was starting to play with the idea of picking blogging back up. Suddenly I had a lot more time (not to mention a lot more cash, holla!) to play with, and I started to realize that I really, really missed my community here. Even the trolls. Ok, maybe not them, but everyone else, I missed you!
So, here I am, asking to be let back onto your blog rolls and RSS feeds and into your hearts. I can't wait to catch up on what all of you have been doing and to share the daily goings on of a newly married woman living in Cary, North Carolina.
I am so happy to be back!
Fast forward to a few weeks after we returned from a beautiful honeymoon in the Grenadine Islands (never heard of them? Yeah, that was kind of the point), I was starting to play with the idea of picking blogging back up. Suddenly I had a lot more time (not to mention a lot more cash, holla!) to play with, and I started to realize that I really, really missed my community here. Even the trolls. Ok, maybe not them, but everyone else, I missed you!
So, here I am, asking to be let back onto your blog rolls and RSS feeds and into your hearts. I can't wait to catch up on what all of you have been doing and to share the daily goings on of a newly married woman living in Cary, North Carolina.
I am so happy to be back!
A True Partner
(Some of you have asked to see my wedding dress. I'd love to share it, but I'm keeping it a secret from Carolina Man! Feel free to email me at thenonstudent@gmail.com if you want a picture.)
In the past, the term "partner" was one I used only because I hated referring to a significant other as "boyfriend." Saying "partner" sounded less sophomoric, more serious and committed. And sometimes it kind of confused people who were used to hearing the word only to describe gay and lesbian couples. I sort of liked that. It felt like I was being ultra-politically correct by using it.
But in reality, I had no freaking idea what I was talking about. I threw around the term "partner" mostly because I wanted to be treated like an adult and I liked the way it sounded, not because it was a true reflection of that relationship.
Partnership is teamwork. It's unity and commonality. It is a locked-arm-in-arm way of moving forward into the unknown of the future. And it's also wrapped up in the mundane tasks of daily life, like unloading the dishwasher even if it isn't your turn. Or picking up the dog's poop again. It's learning to love someone's family as your own.
Carolina Man is my partner in the truest sense of the word. Yesterday after my mom left to go visit my uncle, he held me as I cried, feeling overwhelmed not only by her departure, but by how my life has changed over the past year. Change for the good is still change, and it can sting in the most unexpected ways. As difficult as it is to feel those things, I know I can do so safely in his arms. No matter how I'm feeling, or what triggered my emotions, he is reassuring and affirming. Those moments are what deepen and solidify the trust we are continually building.
The best compliments Carolina Man and I have received as a couple are the ones that reflect our striving to act as a team in all that we do, whether that's in how we have conversations with each other or how we train our dog Lucy. My mom said the other day that she knew we would be great parents because we will raise our children with intentionality. I believe she is absolutely right about that.
Carolina Man and I still have so much to learn about each other. But with each hurdle we encounter, we do so with honesty, respect, and love for one another.
In the past, the term "partner" was one I used only because I hated referring to a significant other as "boyfriend." Saying "partner" sounded less sophomoric, more serious and committed. And sometimes it kind of confused people who were used to hearing the word only to describe gay and lesbian couples. I sort of liked that. It felt like I was being ultra-politically correct by using it.
But in reality, I had no freaking idea what I was talking about. I threw around the term "partner" mostly because I wanted to be treated like an adult and I liked the way it sounded, not because it was a true reflection of that relationship.
Partnership is teamwork. It's unity and commonality. It is a locked-arm-in-arm way of moving forward into the unknown of the future. And it's also wrapped up in the mundane tasks of daily life, like unloading the dishwasher even if it isn't your turn. Or picking up the dog's poop again. It's learning to love someone's family as your own.
Carolina Man is my partner in the truest sense of the word. Yesterday after my mom left to go visit my uncle, he held me as I cried, feeling overwhelmed not only by her departure, but by how my life has changed over the past year. Change for the good is still change, and it can sting in the most unexpected ways. As difficult as it is to feel those things, I know I can do so safely in his arms. No matter how I'm feeling, or what triggered my emotions, he is reassuring and affirming. Those moments are what deepen and solidify the trust we are continually building.
The best compliments Carolina Man and I have received as a couple are the ones that reflect our striving to act as a team in all that we do, whether that's in how we have conversations with each other or how we train our dog Lucy. My mom said the other day that she knew we would be great parents because we will raise our children with intentionality. I believe she is absolutely right about that.
Carolina Man and I still have so much to learn about each other. But with each hurdle we encounter, we do so with honesty, respect, and love for one another.
Friend Dating
You know what's just as challenging to find as a man you want to have babies with? Finding a friend that will put up with you gushing about him.
Yep, I'm ISO of some NC friends. And that means awkward friend dates. On Wednesday night I met up with a cool woman I'd emailed with about work stuff. Unlike my romantic dating life, I actually got to be the one asking out, and I was super happy when she agreed. Yay, potential friend!
The time was fine, although at one point I was wondering when our food was going to show up. I felt like I carried a lot of the conversation, asking questions and filling in what I perceived to be awkward silences. (I blame that on being extraordinarily extroverted.) And, I ate all of the food on my plate, not because I wanted it but because it was something to do.
I'm probably making this sound a lot more painful than it was. We had a good time and we have a lot in common. I think there will be future friend dates. But, after only two "dates," we don't really know each other. And no matter how much I want to have a close friend here in NC, she and I weren't going to go back to her place and watch YouTube videos together like Katie and I used to do.
Sigh. Living in a new place is tough. It's difficult for me to remember what it felt like when I moved to DC. I'm sure I felt similarly. But, when I think about DC, what I remember are the friends I had at the end of my time there, not the loneliness I felt at the beginning.
Just like back when I was single my brain used to say over and over, "You're never going to meet a man. You're never going to get married," my brain is now telling me, "You're never going to have friends in NC." Not really helpful to have bullshit like that swirling around in my head. So, I've got to keep putting myself out there, going out on friend dates, and believe that somewhere out there will be a friend that'll I really click with.
Yep, I'm ISO of some NC friends. And that means awkward friend dates. On Wednesday night I met up with a cool woman I'd emailed with about work stuff. Unlike my romantic dating life, I actually got to be the one asking out, and I was super happy when she agreed. Yay, potential friend!
The time was fine, although at one point I was wondering when our food was going to show up. I felt like I carried a lot of the conversation, asking questions and filling in what I perceived to be awkward silences. (I blame that on being extraordinarily extroverted.) And, I ate all of the food on my plate, not because I wanted it but because it was something to do.
I'm probably making this sound a lot more painful than it was. We had a good time and we have a lot in common. I think there will be future friend dates. But, after only two "dates," we don't really know each other. And no matter how much I want to have a close friend here in NC, she and I weren't going to go back to her place and watch YouTube videos together like Katie and I used to do.
Sigh. Living in a new place is tough. It's difficult for me to remember what it felt like when I moved to DC. I'm sure I felt similarly. But, when I think about DC, what I remember are the friends I had at the end of my time there, not the loneliness I felt at the beginning.
Just like back when I was single my brain used to say over and over, "You're never going to meet a man. You're never going to get married," my brain is now telling me, "You're never going to have friends in NC." Not really helpful to have bullshit like that swirling around in my head. So, I've got to keep putting myself out there, going out on friend dates, and believe that somewhere out there will be a friend that'll I really click with.
The Sass is Back
I'm a Southern woman, born and raised. This surprises a lot of people I meet primarily because A) I don't have the accent and B) I like to say fuck a lot. This wasn't always the case. Back in high school, I was a Bible Belter, goody two-shoes like most of my friends.
That all started to change ironically when I went to divinity school in Connecticut. People were abrasive and direct, which at first I found rude but then came to appreciate. There was no bullshit. Sure, I missed the friendliness of saying 'hi' to people on the street, but then again, there were so many pedestrians I could've spent my entire walk to campus greeting strangers. Instead I learned to look inward and found quiet and stillness.
I also developed quite a bit of attitude. Since my birth, my mom had taught me the passive aggressive ways of southern culture--that you ignore cat calls and kill rude people with kindness. As it turns out, these are not particularly satisfying strategies for dealing with assholes. I always felt disempowered and wished I'd been quicker with my tongue.
At some point, things shifted. I started with a few mouthy comebacks to men who would whistle or say something inappropriate to me on the street. One night I was coming home from CVS when a man in a truck said, "Hey there, sexy." I walked a few steps and yelled back, "Why don't you shut the fuck up!?" He probably thought I was a crazy bitch, but I felt this awesome rush of adrenaline and felt proud that I'd managed to make him, well, shut the fuck up.
Now after six years of living elsewhere, I'm back in the South and experiencing severe reverse culture shock. It first struck me when I went to a Zumba class at the gym and realized I was the most gyrating one in the class (something that NEVER would have happened in DC). I've changed and I'm not sure I can adopt the southern lady thing again.
The other day, Carolina Man and I were out playing bocce and throwing a frisbee at the park. A man walked by us, and remembering that I was in the South, I made eye contact and said hello. He replied, "You know, you really should use your arm more and your wrist less."
And without even thinking, I retorted with annoyance in my voice, "Thanks, but I didn't ask you." It wasn't rude exactly, but it was direct and it sent a clear message that I didn't appreciate his unsolicited advice about my frisbee throwing ability.
My mom probably would've died with embarrassment if she'd heard me say that. She would have preferred I'd feigned politeness or even gratitude, and then talked behind his back. Instead I said what I felt. And it felt pretty awesome!
Carolina Man said, "And that's why I love you."
That all started to change ironically when I went to divinity school in Connecticut. People were abrasive and direct, which at first I found rude but then came to appreciate. There was no bullshit. Sure, I missed the friendliness of saying 'hi' to people on the street, but then again, there were so many pedestrians I could've spent my entire walk to campus greeting strangers. Instead I learned to look inward and found quiet and stillness.
I also developed quite a bit of attitude. Since my birth, my mom had taught me the passive aggressive ways of southern culture--that you ignore cat calls and kill rude people with kindness. As it turns out, these are not particularly satisfying strategies for dealing with assholes. I always felt disempowered and wished I'd been quicker with my tongue.
At some point, things shifted. I started with a few mouthy comebacks to men who would whistle or say something inappropriate to me on the street. One night I was coming home from CVS when a man in a truck said, "Hey there, sexy." I walked a few steps and yelled back, "Why don't you shut the fuck up!?" He probably thought I was a crazy bitch, but I felt this awesome rush of adrenaline and felt proud that I'd managed to make him, well, shut the fuck up.
Now after six years of living elsewhere, I'm back in the South and experiencing severe reverse culture shock. It first struck me when I went to a Zumba class at the gym and realized I was the most gyrating one in the class (something that NEVER would have happened in DC). I've changed and I'm not sure I can adopt the southern lady thing again.
The other day, Carolina Man and I were out playing bocce and throwing a frisbee at the park. A man walked by us, and remembering that I was in the South, I made eye contact and said hello. He replied, "You know, you really should use your arm more and your wrist less."
And without even thinking, I retorted with annoyance in my voice, "Thanks, but I didn't ask you." It wasn't rude exactly, but it was direct and it sent a clear message that I didn't appreciate his unsolicited advice about my frisbee throwing ability.
My mom probably would've died with embarrassment if she'd heard me say that. She would have preferred I'd feigned politeness or even gratitude, and then talked behind his back. Instead I said what I felt. And it felt pretty awesome!
Carolina Man said, "And that's why I love you."
Living Together Separately
I've got a list of blog topics all prepared in my head, and yet the break-neck speed of the last three weeks has kept me from doing much about it. Yesterday I left NC at 6 am for a day of meetings and catching up with DC blogger amigas Date Me, D.C.! (with whom I'd just spent an awesome weekend), Sassy Marmalade, Bless Your Heart, and A Single Girl before heading back to NC at 10 pm. This morning was basically the same, only this time Carolina Man was the one heading out of town. Bleary-eyed, we did the exact same early morning kiss good-bye we'd done yesterday.
A lot of people have asked me how it's going living here. I've said that it's going really well, which it is. But I also don't feel like I have of time under my belt to say with confidence that it's going as well as I feel like it is. This has been our timeline thus far:
Aug 20--Move Day
Aug 24-28--Work trip to Ohio
Aug 31--CM's dad and brother arrive
Sept 2-4--CM, dad, and brother go to beach
Sept 6--Dad, brother go home; I go to DC
Sept 7-8--CM goes to Philadelphia
In short, we have hardly spent any time together alone at our house. Nothing about my schedule has changed, and he's just as busy as I am. I'd mapped all of this out before I moved and said, "We need to realize that just because NC will my home base doesn't mean we'll be together all the time." It's been especially tough on me when CM is gone because I haven't exactly had much time to make friends, so I end up doing a lot solo, which is tough on an extrovert like me. I know I'll make friends--I always do. But living in a new place is tough, no matter how good the circumstances are. And it's been even tougher to have spent so much of the transition apart.
In making travel plans for work, I'd never really had to consider someone else. I was fine with booking trips back-to-back, running myself into the ground repeatedly, and taking a random day off in the middle of the week to catch up on sleep. But being in a relationship is different. I've got to become more discriminating when it comes to offering up my weekends because when we miss a weekend together, there's no time to be lazy and just enjoy each other's company.
So, I can't wait for this weekend when we'll both be here and can get some quality time together. We need it.
A lot of people have asked me how it's going living here. I've said that it's going really well, which it is. But I also don't feel like I have of time under my belt to say with confidence that it's going as well as I feel like it is. This has been our timeline thus far:
Aug 20--Move Day
Aug 24-28--Work trip to Ohio
Aug 31--CM's dad and brother arrive
Sept 2-4--CM, dad, and brother go to beach
Sept 6--Dad, brother go home; I go to DC
Sept 7-8--CM goes to Philadelphia
In short, we have hardly spent any time together alone at our house. Nothing about my schedule has changed, and he's just as busy as I am. I'd mapped all of this out before I moved and said, "We need to realize that just because NC will my home base doesn't mean we'll be together all the time." It's been especially tough on me when CM is gone because I haven't exactly had much time to make friends, so I end up doing a lot solo, which is tough on an extrovert like me. I know I'll make friends--I always do. But living in a new place is tough, no matter how good the circumstances are. And it's been even tougher to have spent so much of the transition apart.
In making travel plans for work, I'd never really had to consider someone else. I was fine with booking trips back-to-back, running myself into the ground repeatedly, and taking a random day off in the middle of the week to catch up on sleep. But being in a relationship is different. I've got to become more discriminating when it comes to offering up my weekends because when we miss a weekend together, there's no time to be lazy and just enjoy each other's company.
So, I can't wait for this weekend when we'll both be here and can get some quality time together. We need it.
DC to NC
I spent my last night in DC trudging through a torrential downpour to my going away party, which was awesome, only to return to two inches of water on the floor of my bedroom closet. Thank God Carolina Man and I had already packed all my stuff up into the cars--just a few hours before the rain fell I'd had all my linens, clothes, and books packed on the floor of the closet. I took it as a final "F*** you" from DC.
But no, the water on the floor was in fact the penultimate DC middle finger. The last would be the extra hour and a half it took for us to get from DC to Richmond. There's nothing worse than desperately wanting to get somewhere and have all the traffic gods crap on you. But eventually, we got here, unpacked the cars, and passed out from exhaustion.
The last few days have been awesome and exhilarating, weird and strange, relaxed and comfortable, stressful and tense. It's been the roller-coaster of feelings and emotions that we anticipated it would be, and we've just done our best to talk through it all. As we were falling asleep last night, I asked CM, "Do you think we have more issues than most couples do?" He said, "I think we have as many issues as any other couples. The difference is that we aren't afraid to name them when they come up."
In so many ways, CM and I are still getting to know each other. We have similar issues and insecurities, but the situations that trigger them are so unique to each of us. In time, we'll learn more about those and will have a better understanding of why the other reacts a certain way. I love that we can talk openly about our hurts and pain from the past.
It's easy for me in some ways to feel like CM has always been in my life. I have nearly forgotten what it was like to spend every night alone and to have no one to snuggle up next to in the morning. I have to remind myself of how much has changed in such a short period of time. More time than I could have anticipated, it just feels normal. Being with CM feels like home.
But no, the water on the floor was in fact the penultimate DC middle finger. The last would be the extra hour and a half it took for us to get from DC to Richmond. There's nothing worse than desperately wanting to get somewhere and have all the traffic gods crap on you. But eventually, we got here, unpacked the cars, and passed out from exhaustion.
The last few days have been awesome and exhilarating, weird and strange, relaxed and comfortable, stressful and tense. It's been the roller-coaster of feelings and emotions that we anticipated it would be, and we've just done our best to talk through it all. As we were falling asleep last night, I asked CM, "Do you think we have more issues than most couples do?" He said, "I think we have as many issues as any other couples. The difference is that we aren't afraid to name them when they come up."
In so many ways, CM and I are still getting to know each other. We have similar issues and insecurities, but the situations that trigger them are so unique to each of us. In time, we'll learn more about those and will have a better understanding of why the other reacts a certain way. I love that we can talk openly about our hurts and pain from the past.
It's easy for me in some ways to feel like CM has always been in my life. I have nearly forgotten what it was like to spend every night alone and to have no one to snuggle up next to in the morning. I have to remind myself of how much has changed in such a short period of time. More time than I could have anticipated, it just feels normal. Being with CM feels like home.
The Lasts
Yesterday was my last therapy session with C. After a journey of nearly a year and a half, it was bittersweet to say good-bye and thank her for facilitating a lot of hard work and growth. She, like my blog readers, has been along for the bumpy ride of heartache, depression, confusion, new hope, growth, and now, love. Carolina Man came with me to the session, which was a lovely way of tying it all together.
My room is mostly packed, to the point that I can't find anything I need and I've only got those random tidbits like a soap dish and a pile of magazines to deal with. It's crazy to think that in just a few days I'll be starting a new life, not leaving behind my current one entirely but starting a new chapter.
I'm leaving without the slightest tinge of doubt about my decision. I can't imagine a better feeling.
My room is mostly packed, to the point that I can't find anything I need and I've only got those random tidbits like a soap dish and a pile of magazines to deal with. It's crazy to think that in just a few days I'll be starting a new life, not leaving behind my current one entirely but starting a new chapter.
I'm leaving without the slightest tinge of doubt about my decision. I can't imagine a better feeling.
Dancing to...NC!
This probably won't come as much of a shock to you who have been reading along the last few months, but Carolina Man and I have decided it's time to end this long-distance nonsense and live in the same place. So, I'm packing up my things and moving to Cary in... 16 DAYS!
I've wanted to move to NC for over a year now, and since I can keep my current job and I don't even have to break a lease, there's never been a better time to try it out. I'm excited and stressed and nervous and happy and sad about it all at once.
So, I'll be busy the next few weeks trying to get my life in order. I couldn't be happier about the decision. As much as I'll miss my friends in DC, I know I'm ready to start my new life with Carolina Man.
I've wanted to move to NC for over a year now, and since I can keep my current job and I don't even have to break a lease, there's never been a better time to try it out. I'm excited and stressed and nervous and happy and sad about it all at once.
So, I'll be busy the next few weeks trying to get my life in order. I couldn't be happier about the decision. As much as I'll miss my friends in DC, I know I'm ready to start my new life with Carolina Man.
From a Distance
"I know we've only known each other four weeks and three days, but to me it seems like nine weeks and five days. The first day seemed like a week and the second day seemed like five days. And the third day seemed like a week again and the fourth day seemed like eight days. And the fifth day you went to see your mother and that seemed just like a day, and then you came back and later on the sixth day, in the evening, when we saw each other, that started seeming like two days, so in the evening it seemed like two days spilling over into the next day and that started seeming like four days, so at the end of the sixth day on into the seventh day, it seemed like a total of five days. And the sixth day seemed like a week and a half. I have it written down, but I can show it to you tomorrow if you want to see it. "
Hopefully you recognize the absurdity above as a quote from the 1979 Steve Martin classic The Jerk. It's become a frequent reference for Carolina Man and me. First, in a silly way, it encapsulates the feeling of having known each other longer much longer than we have in actuality. Second, it pokes fun at the anguish we feel in being apart, no matter how relatively short the time. It's tough for me even to consider this a real long-distance relationship when he's just a four-hour drive away, and we've already managed to see each other twice since our first weekend together in Ohio (and I'll be going back to North Carolina on Thursday night!) In the past I've done the long-distance thing over continents and time zones, but this feels different. I can't imagine getting used to being apart, nor do I want to get to that place.
Even with Skype and texting and email and cell phones, nothing comes close to being with someone in person. So much is lost when there's physical space separating you. Carolina Man brings up this distant feeling every now and then, and there's sadness that comes with it for both of us. That's especially true on a day like today, when he's having a lazy Sunday and I'm stuck in a tiny town in Ohio for work with nothing on my agenda today except perhaps a trip to the drugstore, only to alleviate some of the boredom. I think, "Why can't we just be together?" It feels like torture.
But it's almost a sweet torture, both the agonizing longing for him and the ecstatic feeling of relief when I do see him again. I can hardly remember my life before him now, what it was like for something or someone else to be filling up all the spaces he holds in my mind and heart. I love that I'm still amazed at what's happening, that we haven't yet settled into daily life with one another. I love that he's the first thought I have when I wake up and the last thought I have as I fall asleep. And I will continue to count the days until I see my love again.
Even with Skype and texting and email and cell phones, nothing comes close to being with someone in person. So much is lost when there's physical space separating you. Carolina Man brings up this distant feeling every now and then, and there's sadness that comes with it for both of us. That's especially true on a day like today, when he's having a lazy Sunday and I'm stuck in a tiny town in Ohio for work with nothing on my agenda today except perhaps a trip to the drugstore, only to alleviate some of the boredom. I think, "Why can't we just be together?" It feels like torture.
But it's almost a sweet torture, both the agonizing longing for him and the ecstatic feeling of relief when I do see him again. I can hardly remember my life before him now, what it was like for something or someone else to be filling up all the spaces he holds in my mind and heart. I love that I'm still amazed at what's happening, that we haven't yet settled into daily life with one another. I love that he's the first thought I have when I wake up and the last thought I have as I fall asleep. And I will continue to count the days until I see my love again.
Hopes for the New Year
You'd think an extra day at home to spend with my mom eating Thai food and watching season 2 of Dexter would've made me smile, not cry. But knowing that eventually I'd have to leave home again and return to the desolate land of my sublet room in Arlington had me in tears. It doesn't matter if I'm there for 2 days or 2 weeks; it never feels like enough.
Don't get me wrong. My family drives me nuts when I'm there. My nephew shot me in the face with a Nerf gun. My oldest brother refused to join my mom and me in Augusta to see my other brother who was on call at the hospital on Christmas, opting instead to go to an NFL game. My mom snored all night long on Christmas, keeping me up and making me want to put a pillow over her face.
And yet, I love them more than anything. I feel like I'm missing so much when I'm in DC. And I'm finally beginning to see that as long as I'm there, it will almost always be me making the trip to see them, not the other way around. In the five and a half years of living a plane ride away from home, I've been visited four times by my mom; two times by my middle brother, and zero times by my oldest brother. It's not that they don't care. It's just...I don't know. I'm the only one far away. Being a plane ride away takes out all the spontaneity of traveling, at least for those of us on a budget. It'd be so much easier if we all could just jump in the car and be together for a random weekend.
Now I'm back thinking that I do want to move, maybe not right away but eventually. My uncle in Chapel Hill is building a new house and his paid-for condo probably won't do well on the market, given the housing situation nationwide. He said, mostly in jest, "It would make my life a lot easier if you'd move to North Carolina." But, it got me thinking about what life would be like there. All of my emotions aside, next to DC the Research Triangle is probably the best place for me work-wise. I was contacted by someone there a few weeks ago who works on population issues. She'd be a great contact. And, I even met a man from there a few weeks ago that I instantly clicked with. I told him I was thinking of moving and he said, "I'd be your friend!"
I'm not into New Year's resolution (although I do plan to join a new gym when I get back to DC, only because my current one smells like a diaper.) But I do have hopes for this year--that it would be a time when something clicks. That I'd get that opportunity, meet that person, realize that one thing that will make the foreseeable future a little less daunting. That I'd realize where I'm supposed to be--DC, NC, or somewhere else--and feel at peace about it. I'm open to all of the possibilities before me.
Don't get me wrong. My family drives me nuts when I'm there. My nephew shot me in the face with a Nerf gun. My oldest brother refused to join my mom and me in Augusta to see my other brother who was on call at the hospital on Christmas, opting instead to go to an NFL game. My mom snored all night long on Christmas, keeping me up and making me want to put a pillow over her face.
And yet, I love them more than anything. I feel like I'm missing so much when I'm in DC. And I'm finally beginning to see that as long as I'm there, it will almost always be me making the trip to see them, not the other way around. In the five and a half years of living a plane ride away from home, I've been visited four times by my mom; two times by my middle brother, and zero times by my oldest brother. It's not that they don't care. It's just...I don't know. I'm the only one far away. Being a plane ride away takes out all the spontaneity of traveling, at least for those of us on a budget. It'd be so much easier if we all could just jump in the car and be together for a random weekend.
Now I'm back thinking that I do want to move, maybe not right away but eventually. My uncle in Chapel Hill is building a new house and his paid-for condo probably won't do well on the market, given the housing situation nationwide. He said, mostly in jest, "It would make my life a lot easier if you'd move to North Carolina." But, it got me thinking about what life would be like there. All of my emotions aside, next to DC the Research Triangle is probably the best place for me work-wise. I was contacted by someone there a few weeks ago who works on population issues. She'd be a great contact. And, I even met a man from there a few weeks ago that I instantly clicked with. I told him I was thinking of moving and he said, "I'd be your friend!"
I'm not into New Year's resolution (although I do plan to join a new gym when I get back to DC, only because my current one smells like a diaper.) But I do have hopes for this year--that it would be a time when something clicks. That I'd get that opportunity, meet that person, realize that one thing that will make the foreseeable future a little less daunting. That I'd realize where I'm supposed to be--DC, NC, or somewhere else--and feel at peace about it. I'm open to all of the possibilities before me.
I Saw the Sign
When I was choosing my undergraduate institution, when I decided to get my masters, when I met SCL, when I left school for a period of time, when I accepted my current job, there were signs--confirmations, gut feelings, a sense of peace, resolution, and certainty. I am hoping, looking even, for a sign in this time of discernment.
Fun and hilarious dinner with Date Me, DC!--sign I should stay? Horrible DC happy hour full of networking assholes--sign I should leave? Yesterday I even broke my own "no dating" rule and went out with someone. Even then I was thinking, "Maybe if we have a connection...would that be a sign?" (We didn't, by the way.)
I am a person of faith and I do believe that being in an open, receptive state can bring about clarity--either through signs, a gut feeling, or some other sense of rightness. I'm not going to get my answer in a pro/con list. Believe me, I've tried that. Multiple times. The truth is there are plenty of reasons for me to stay in DC and reasons for me to go; reasons for me to move to North Carolina and reasons for me not to.
Some have warned me, "Don't make an emotional decision." As if choices that concern the heart are ever entirely logical--or that they ought to be. As if emotions are unimportant and valueless. As if this desire to make a change in my life is me just being emotional (sexist, much?). The heart is important, and so are our feelings, even as they fade and change and confuse us.
So, instead of indulging in fantasies about a new life or fixating on the things I dislike about DC, I'm trying to practice openness and patience, hoping that once again the answer will come in time. I truly believe it will.
Fun and hilarious dinner with Date Me, DC!--sign I should stay? Horrible DC happy hour full of networking assholes--sign I should leave? Yesterday I even broke my own "no dating" rule and went out with someone. Even then I was thinking, "Maybe if we have a connection...would that be a sign?" (We didn't, by the way.)
I am a person of faith and I do believe that being in an open, receptive state can bring about clarity--either through signs, a gut feeling, or some other sense of rightness. I'm not going to get my answer in a pro/con list. Believe me, I've tried that. Multiple times. The truth is there are plenty of reasons for me to stay in DC and reasons for me to go; reasons for me to move to North Carolina and reasons for me not to.
Some have warned me, "Don't make an emotional decision." As if choices that concern the heart are ever entirely logical--or that they ought to be. As if emotions are unimportant and valueless. As if this desire to make a change in my life is me just being emotional (sexist, much?). The heart is important, and so are our feelings, even as they fade and change and confuse us.
So, instead of indulging in fantasies about a new life or fixating on the things I dislike about DC, I'm trying to practice openness and patience, hoping that once again the answer will come in time. I truly believe it will.
Give Me the Green Light
If it wasn't obvious in my last post, I have been considering the possibility of moving back to Charlotte, North Carolina. Considering the possibility. Ok, that and indulging in fantasies about what it would be like to be able to afford a real grown-up apartment on my own.
In thinking about a potential move, the only real hang-up I could foresee was my job. Other than travel stories, I haven't shared much about my work on the blog (hello, relative anonymity). I'm a contractor for a non-profit. I telecommute (i.e. work from home) about 95% of the time and essentially I can do my job anywhere there's Internet and a good airport. But, since I do advocacy work, it is helpful for me to be in DC--to go to meetings, briefings, and the occasional visit with a member of Congress. So, while not essential and not part of my contract, being in DC, at least some of the time, is a good thing for me professionally, both for right now and for future work opportunities. (Although I'm really wondering if I want to stay in this rat race for the long-run anyway.)
You can imagine my relief, then, when I brought this up with my supervisor and she said, "As a contractor, I can't tell you where you can do your work. It's illegal! That and the most important part of your job is not the work you do on the Hill but the grassroots work you're doing in the field." Shew, ok! Not a barrier.Plus DC is just an hour's flight from Charlotte. Then she said, "Forgive me, I'm taking off my professional hat now and putting on the friend hat, but I do worry that you may be trying to run away from problems that are rooted in the internal, not the external."
Let me say that my supervisor/boss is like another mother to me. She's someone I've known for years, and I feel incredibly thankful to work with her now. She's wise, grounded, and an incredible listener. She knows all about my life, SCL, and my general feelings of unhappiness. And if there's anyone in DC whose perspective I would want, it's hers.
"I agree with you," I admitted. I know that I have a shit-ton of work to do on myself. Happiness and satisfaction come from within, and if I want to experience them, I will have to do that hard work no matter where I end up living. But my feeling is that changing some of the external things and improving my quality of life that way may actually facilitate doing that internal work. Right now I feel like my attempts to do the internal work are actually being hindered by the external things in my life here.
What I truly want in this situation is to feel like I have a choice in the matter.If I decide to stay in DC, it will be because I chose to. And if I decide to move, it will be a decision I am making for myself. Knowing I have a choice is incredibly liberating. Now I've got a lot of discerning, thinking, and journaling to do. But I believe in time I'll have my answer.
In thinking about a potential move, the only real hang-up I could foresee was my job. Other than travel stories, I haven't shared much about my work on the blog (hello, relative anonymity). I'm a contractor for a non-profit. I telecommute (i.e. work from home) about 95% of the time and essentially I can do my job anywhere there's Internet and a good airport. But, since I do advocacy work, it is helpful for me to be in DC--to go to meetings, briefings, and the occasional visit with a member of Congress. So, while not essential and not part of my contract, being in DC, at least some of the time, is a good thing for me professionally, both for right now and for future work opportunities. (Although I'm really wondering if I want to stay in this rat race for the long-run anyway.)
You can imagine my relief, then, when I brought this up with my supervisor and she said, "As a contractor, I can't tell you where you can do your work. It's illegal! That and the most important part of your job is not the work you do on the Hill but the grassroots work you're doing in the field." Shew, ok! Not a barrier.Plus DC is just an hour's flight from Charlotte. Then she said, "Forgive me, I'm taking off my professional hat now and putting on the friend hat, but I do worry that you may be trying to run away from problems that are rooted in the internal, not the external."
Let me say that my supervisor/boss is like another mother to me. She's someone I've known for years, and I feel incredibly thankful to work with her now. She's wise, grounded, and an incredible listener. She knows all about my life, SCL, and my general feelings of unhappiness. And if there's anyone in DC whose perspective I would want, it's hers.
"I agree with you," I admitted. I know that I have a shit-ton of work to do on myself. Happiness and satisfaction come from within, and if I want to experience them, I will have to do that hard work no matter where I end up living. But my feeling is that changing some of the external things and improving my quality of life that way may actually facilitate doing that internal work. Right now I feel like my attempts to do the internal work are actually being hindered by the external things in my life here.
If you'll indulge me, here are a few of the external things Charlotte would offer.
- Lower cost of living
- Slower pace of life
- Better weather (NC springs are the best)
- Within driving distance of my entire immediate family
- Within driving distance of my best friend
- Hub for other alums from my college
- Familiarity
- Distance from SCL (I mean, c'mon. It's tough living 3 blocks away from each other sometimes.)
- Good friends and mentors in the area
What I truly want in this situation is to feel like I have a choice in the matter.If I decide to stay in DC, it will be because I chose to. And if I decide to move, it will be a decision I am making for myself. Knowing I have a choice is incredibly liberating. Now I've got a lot of discerning, thinking, and journaling to do. But I believe in time I'll have my answer.
Time for a Name Change?
This has come up a few times in comments, so I'm wondering what you all think. Is it time for a blog name change?
When I was with SCL, I really liked "Grad-Student Girlfriend." It was cute, alliterative, and captured the essence of the blog, which was mostly about our relationship.
But now I'm branching out, writing about me and not just in terms of who I am in relationship to SCL. In fact, I'd like to move away from that as much as possible--he doesn't define me. I let him define me too much before.
The thing is, I don't what to call this blog. Suddenly Single? That still seems to be about my relationship status (and thus connected to SCL in a way).
So, I need your help. I need your ideas. What would you call this blog?
When I was with SCL, I really liked "Grad-Student Girlfriend." It was cute, alliterative, and captured the essence of the blog, which was mostly about our relationship.
But now I'm branching out, writing about me and not just in terms of who I am in relationship to SCL. In fact, I'd like to move away from that as much as possible--he doesn't define me. I let him define me too much before.
The thing is, I don't what to call this blog. Suddenly Single? That still seems to be about my relationship status (and thus connected to SCL in a way).
So, I need your help. I need your ideas. What would you call this blog?
Stating What Should Be Obvious
I've been in what has felt like a permanent funk lately, one I've excused as being tired from the move, tired from being gone so much for work, adjusting to this new stage with SCL.
But I was just journaling and it came to me: I miss SCL and I'm unhappy without him. Yes, we see each other often, but we don't share our life in the way that we used to. I miss making coffee together. I miss hearing him take a shower. I miss having a joint bank account and budgeting together. I even miss the laborious task of doing both of our laundry, lugging it down to the basement of our building and walking up and down the stairs to take it out of the wash and into the dryer. I miss having a kitchen together filled with things that belonged to us both.
I don't like living in a random house in a random room with random roommates. I want to live with SCL.
How do I adjust to this level of dissatisfaction in my relationship? How do I find satisfaction in circumstances that are unsatisfactory to me? I do feel like this, like all things, is for a season and is no way a permanent situation. And I do feel like this is a time when I need to exercise patience with SCL. This is part of being in a partnership.
But I do miss living together a lot. It hurts my heart.
But I was just journaling and it came to me: I miss SCL and I'm unhappy without him. Yes, we see each other often, but we don't share our life in the way that we used to. I miss making coffee together. I miss hearing him take a shower. I miss having a joint bank account and budgeting together. I even miss the laborious task of doing both of our laundry, lugging it down to the basement of our building and walking up and down the stairs to take it out of the wash and into the dryer. I miss having a kitchen together filled with things that belonged to us both.
I don't like living in a random house in a random room with random roommates. I want to live with SCL.
How do I adjust to this level of dissatisfaction in my relationship? How do I find satisfaction in circumstances that are unsatisfactory to me? I do feel like this, like all things, is for a season and is no way a permanent situation. And I do feel like this is a time when I need to exercise patience with SCL. This is part of being in a partnership.
But I do miss living together a lot. It hurts my heart.
In an Ideal World...
SCL would be:
- Five years older, done with school, and more grown up
- More excited and less anxious about making a commitment to me
- More appreciative of how much I love him and how dedicated I am to being a good partner
I would be:
- Less fixated on my relationship issues
- More secure in myself
- Value my needs as much as I do his
Our relationship would be:
- More defined
- Stable
- Mutually affirming
- Satisfying for both of us
A woman can dream, right?
Shutting the Door
SCL and I had an exhausting weekend of doing the dreaded move-out cleaning of the apartment, as well as selling our beloved couch. It was an emotionally draining, not to mention physically exhausting, weekend. The whole process of packing up and saying good-bye to the place seemed to take forever. SCL moved out at the beginning of June. Then I had another month before moving myself and then a week after that before we said our final good-byes.
I know it sounds kind of silly to be saying good-bye to a sterile apartment in a generic high rise building, but it was our first home together. I can only hope it won't be our last. And after this weekend, I have more reason to believe that we will build a home together again.
I've talked a lot about my impatience with SCL to say something definitive about our relationship. I've waited what has felt like an eternity for some kind of indication--either way, I just wanted to know. I was getting fed up with his wavering, his non-committal "I don't know"s. But I resisted my urge to blow up and demand answers. I reminded myself that this was a time of transition, that nothing major ought to be decided in the middle of this upheaval. As Elizabeth Gilbert talks about in Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage
, there are times when we must say to one another, be careful. We need to be very careful about what we say during times of confusion, exhaustion, and distress.
Of course I rarely actually practice this. Last week when the fucking couch wouldn't fit up the goddamn stairs, I cried out, "Now you're going to get what you want--the money for the couch!" Not my most mature moment. But I do try. When I think about it.
Anyway, this is all to say I have done my damndest to keep my mouth shut and let SCL be in his process. And as we packed up the apartment, cleaned every little crevice of the bathroom tile and the kitchen floor, his emotion poured out. We wept together over what we were losing--of what we were both incredibly sad to be letting go of. That was the moment when I least expected a word of comfort, but instead that was what I got.
"This won't be the last time we share a home together." Guess who said this? Not me--SCL. He went on to tell me how these past few months have been incredibly important for him, for gaining perspective on our relationship and readjusting his expectations about what a relationship should be--from a fantasy to the reality that relationships have good times and bad, that we feel good and bad at times, and that all of this is normal and not an indication that there is anything wrong with the relationship itself. "I can picture a life with you," he said.
He can picture a life with me. I cannot even tell you how important it was for him to say this and for me to hear it at that moment. All along I've been thinking that this moving apart was a moving away from a future together--that we were moving backward. I'd been deathly afraid of the day when we finally left our place together because it meant that we had failed, that we were broken and never were going to put ourselves back together.
But I realized in that moment that it didn't have to be that way. SCL told me in no uncertain terms that he viewed this time of living apart as a step forward to making a commitment to each other (my non-scary way of saying "getting married"). He told me that he hadn't been ready to do that a year ago, but he didn't know that until we were in the middle of it. "Next time, "he said, "I want to be ready to do this right."
I brought up my concerns about waiting until he was done with school. Another four years just seemed like too long. He told me that while he's still in coursework, it will be a tough time for him. But once his comprehensive exams are done (probably in another year and a half) he will be in a much better place academically and will have freedom that he doesn't right now. I could tell that he had obviously thought about this extensively. See, even though he wasn't saying much the last few months, he was thinking about us.
As we did our final walk-through--and remembered the bottle of ketchup in the fridge that we'd forgotten--we held each other and shed a few tears. But we walked out together, hand-in-hand. We went back to his new place. He played the piano; I sang. We ate Ben & Jerry's out of the carton and cuddled on the couch.
And I realized, we may have shut the door on our old place, but not on our life together.
I know it sounds kind of silly to be saying good-bye to a sterile apartment in a generic high rise building, but it was our first home together. I can only hope it won't be our last. And after this weekend, I have more reason to believe that we will build a home together again.
I've talked a lot about my impatience with SCL to say something definitive about our relationship. I've waited what has felt like an eternity for some kind of indication--either way, I just wanted to know. I was getting fed up with his wavering, his non-committal "I don't know"s. But I resisted my urge to blow up and demand answers. I reminded myself that this was a time of transition, that nothing major ought to be decided in the middle of this upheaval. As Elizabeth Gilbert talks about in Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage
, there are times when we must say to one another, be careful. We need to be very careful about what we say during times of confusion, exhaustion, and distress.Of course I rarely actually practice this. Last week when the fucking couch wouldn't fit up the goddamn stairs, I cried out, "Now you're going to get what you want--the money for the couch!" Not my most mature moment. But I do try. When I think about it.
Anyway, this is all to say I have done my damndest to keep my mouth shut and let SCL be in his process. And as we packed up the apartment, cleaned every little crevice of the bathroom tile and the kitchen floor, his emotion poured out. We wept together over what we were losing--of what we were both incredibly sad to be letting go of. That was the moment when I least expected a word of comfort, but instead that was what I got.
"This won't be the last time we share a home together." Guess who said this? Not me--SCL. He went on to tell me how these past few months have been incredibly important for him, for gaining perspective on our relationship and readjusting his expectations about what a relationship should be--from a fantasy to the reality that relationships have good times and bad, that we feel good and bad at times, and that all of this is normal and not an indication that there is anything wrong with the relationship itself. "I can picture a life with you," he said.
He can picture a life with me. I cannot even tell you how important it was for him to say this and for me to hear it at that moment. All along I've been thinking that this moving apart was a moving away from a future together--that we were moving backward. I'd been deathly afraid of the day when we finally left our place together because it meant that we had failed, that we were broken and never were going to put ourselves back together.
But I realized in that moment that it didn't have to be that way. SCL told me in no uncertain terms that he viewed this time of living apart as a step forward to making a commitment to each other (my non-scary way of saying "getting married"). He told me that he hadn't been ready to do that a year ago, but he didn't know that until we were in the middle of it. "Next time, "he said, "I want to be ready to do this right."
I brought up my concerns about waiting until he was done with school. Another four years just seemed like too long. He told me that while he's still in coursework, it will be a tough time for him. But once his comprehensive exams are done (probably in another year and a half) he will be in a much better place academically and will have freedom that he doesn't right now. I could tell that he had obviously thought about this extensively. See, even though he wasn't saying much the last few months, he was thinking about us.
As we did our final walk-through--and remembered the bottle of ketchup in the fridge that we'd forgotten--we held each other and shed a few tears. But we walked out together, hand-in-hand. We went back to his new place. He played the piano; I sang. We ate Ben & Jerry's out of the carton and cuddled on the couch.
And I realized, we may have shut the door on our old place, but not on our life together.
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