A wise guy in a movie once said you have the love life you want for yourself. I think that’s true. I mean, there are some things you may or may not be able to affect because they are, well, other people, but for the most part I think that he was right. And I think that, also for the most part, we have the lives we want to live for ourselves. We have so much choice, you know? There’s so much we get to decide about our own lives. God gives us such a huge amount of freedom: I know He involves himself too, because I’ve seen it in my own life, but we really do have incredible gobs of freedom.
It’s an amazing gift, isn’t it? To govern your own feelings. I know I have issues in this area, I do, so I’m saying this all with a grain of salt. But also with some truth, because a part of me wonders if I am choosing to be stay in love, if I could in fact break it, if I wanted to badly enough. Part of me thinks I’m choosing to hold on. It’s easier that way. It doesn’t make my loving him any less true, or any less a part of me, but I think I might be taking the easy road, accepting it instead of fighting it.
I’m tired of fighting it.
I’m tired of arguing with myself about being in love. A person ought not have to do that as frequently as I do. So I’ve accepted it: I love him. By many conventional definitions I am utterly, hopefully, helplessly in love with him, with us. Swallowing that sentence is easier than the questions, What is ‘in love’? What’s it mean? Am I, in fact, or is this something else?
Well, I give up. I’m tired of the questions and I’m choosing to say that I am still, as much as ever, in love with him.
And it’s okay! I’m not sad. I’m not crying myself to sleep at night imagining what we had or what we are or what we could be. I just love him. I miss him, too, but that’s getting better. And it’s still not sad. I’m choosing not to be sad!
I’ve blurred the lines of right and wrong so much in this relationship that the one thing I’m terrified of is that God won’t let me have it, that I may have done something to screw it up. That’s what keeps me awake at night, every once and a while. I’m trying to let God handle it – I’m not doing a very good job, but I am making an effort. Because I know that if this is going to work, I’m going to have to love God more than I love this man. That’s okay, too. That’s good, even. It’s just hard.
So this new blog is about choices. The choice to love him. The choice to start writing more, to hone my craft. “Irish poets, learn your trade / sing whatever is well made…” Yeats said that, and it just resonates with me in a pertaining-to-writers way.
I’m choosing to sing again.
There are times I’d give anything just to lay on his chest, listening to his heart beat.
But if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen again.