I was talking with a friend who just went through a break up about the concept of someone you were once so close and intimate with becoming a stranger. She causally said something that struck me as so profound, (paraphrasing): Its scary to know there is no guarantee that someone won't change.
It's a terrifying thought really.
I am an emotional cutter sometimes, for lack of a better word. When I first left my husband I was staying in my parents cold basement in a bedroom without a TV. I would fall asleep to memories I would replay over and over again in my head. I realized it was harder to find the good memories in recent years and over time the memories faded as I struggled to hold on to them as they were all I had left as evidence of a person that no longer existed.
I didn't sleep much, or eat for that matter - I really learned the meaning of the expression,"sick to your stomach." I lost 20 pounds in 3 months, weight that I couldn't afford to lose. I was in complete shock about how much my life had changed in an instant. I look back and don't know how I functioned, but I did because I had no other choice. Even though it was for the best, what I knew about my world, my husband, my dreams were shattered. I would go through my "Jay" box and hang on every word of every card he ever wrote me. Studying them, I noticed the depth and frequency of them abruptly changed right after we got married. I wondered what happened to him, where was that person I met and fell in love with years earlier? But the more I thought about it I don't think he changed as much as I took my rose colored glasses off. I never wanted to see the truth. I defended him to the depths of the earth even when I knew in my heart what people who cared about me tried to get me to see was true. I can also say proudly, 6 months later I had a funeral for that box and it was destroyed. There was a tremendous freedom in letting go and accepting what is today, not what was.
I dated someone casually for a few weeks shortly after the Divorce. He was 10 years older than me, the most attractive man I have ever encountered with a perfect body- The stereotypical forever bachelor. We had a great few week together. Even though I knew we weren't meant to be together, he was what I needed at the time. He made me laugh again and see that there was so much more out there than Jay. I ended up liking him more than I thought I would, it was a false sense of comfort, yet provided me with the companionship I missed. And then one day, it just ended and I am not sure why. I would look back and ruminate on those fun times, the intimate times and wonder yet again, how someone I had shared those parts of myself with would eventually become a stranger.
And this is what terrifies me about dating and falling in love. How do I trust that this person won't change and break my heart all over again? As I tell all of my fears, "Yes, E, that may very well happen," but if I don't show up for life and take those risks, I'll never have the chance of finding what I'm looking for.
What I can say is that with each "fall" I become stronger and wiser for the wear. I have built a beautiful life for myself filled with friends and hobbies - and I don't feel the "need" to find someone's life to hop onto as I had in my younger years because I am content with my own. The falls today are softer, they don't break me but I'm not too proud to acknowledge that they still hurt. They have also been my greatest teachers and I have learned to be grateful for them. I catch red flags quicker, and find that my eyes are more open to seeing them and I don't have to look as hard. I listen to my gut. And maybe the better choices I start making the less chance I have that someone will change because I will see them more clearly from the start.
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