My best friend gave me a new mantra this weekend. “Trust,” she said. Mostly I do. Mostly.
Not very long ago, I stumbled into a new relationship. I was still figuring out the dating thing, finally having fun with it instead of constant stress and anxiety. I was learning how to show up without any expectations and how not to be devastated by someone I’d known only a few weeks. Honestly, I was kind of looking forward to figuring out the process, to the excitement and butterflies and romance of being pursued. F-i-n-a-l-l-y.
So at ten on a full-moon Sunday night, I decided to have a beer with some boy who’d recommended an album of pretty songs and made me laugh over a text message. I thought I was in for a fun and interesting evening, but not much more. I arrived first. While I waited for the bartender to finish up his break the boy walked up behind me, and that was that. My switch flipped, and I knew. This is it for me, for a while.
And it’s been lovely, more than I could have guessed. More on that as I go, but I’ve never felt this quality and strength of connection paired with thoughtfulness and caring. The other time(s — it’s happened once for sure, and maybe twice, but the end of the second one scoured out my memories of the beginning so I can’t say for sure) this feeling has come tied up with ups and downs and drama. This is calm and comfortable and I feel so, so happy. And grateful. And lucky. And very, very infrequently, scared to tears because I’m so very open and exposed, and my poor heart has been through so much in the recent past.
But those moments are short and infrequent for now, and I’m trying. Trust.
As always, writing has gone to the wayside during the honeymoon period. I’ve often wondered why I don’t write when I’m happy, why I don’t record those moments in words. Images, yes, but not words; I think I’m afraid that putting those sensations into words will take away the magic. Make the living version less real, less valid. It’s not true, I’m probably just too wrapped up in the experience of it to sit and write, but still. I’d like the words to come easier.
Because it would be nice, when I feel those flashes of anxiety over opening my heart again, when I realize just how much I have on the line, during those moments where I don’t trust, but need to: it would be nice to have a record of happiness to backs up that faith.