I’m not talking about falling in love, the exhilaration of those first days and nights, weeks even. My concern when it comes to what we loosely term “love” is dependence, surrendering my independence, feeling as though I need someone.
Need that person like an addict, quietly, secretly, no one the wiser except me.
I’m talking about trusting that another will hold my heart and my confidences and not abuse them.
I’m talking about expecting him to still be here in a week or a month, maybe in a year, maybe through my worst possible self, through the money worries and sleeplessness, through long hours when he would rather be doing something else but instead he’s at my side, listening to my troubles or just with me, holding me.
I’m talking about trusting him to know me, and that feels like a precarious, profound, almost unthinkable need.
Trusting. What a complicated concept for some of us.
Does Dependence on a Person Scare You?
If I popped a pill every night to sleep, would I consider myself dependent?
If I required four cups of coffee every morning to get me going, would I say I was hooked?
How is that different from my wakeful brain and my sleeping brain knowing there is a man who loves me, who will fly with me to see my sons, who will smile at me when I’m in a dark place, who will allow me to love him?
Ah, trust. I know this difficulty to be a legacy of my childhood, and fear of it, once conquered. I know this to be a legacy of my divorce, still palpable, though I have no such issues with my sons.
Does any sort of emotional dependence scare you?
Am I alone in this terror?
Believing in Institutions (Marriage)
Once, there was a ring on my finger and I thought that meant family.
I was wrong.
Something in me was ripped open, something in me has never healed, something in me will never fully articulate the ways in which I am not the same since. I wonder if this will always be the case and then I let that question drift away, as it seems unimportant.
The morning comes with sunshine and that’s a rare sight these days. The clock in the kitchen is ticking and reminding me of the schedule that presses even as the weekend approaches. The refrigerator is nearly empty and that means shopping at the international market that he adores, where he lingers, where he nearly dances and his glee is infectious.
I will coordinate what I can in my day with a man willing to compromise more than I, a man who does not seem to question love, a man who cares little for its addictive properties. So I grab my independence by the throat and throttle it, aware of its staunch support and necessity to who I am and how I live my life, and equally aware that interdependence – family, friends, community – the reliance of those with whom we can be vulnerable – is critical.
Vulnerability
But I struggle with it, still. I struggle with my vulnerability, with belief in love, with trusting aspects of my well-being to another person’s affections, judgment, tenderness, whims.
I do not want to be an addict. I do not want to be dependent on love.
But when he smiles at me, when he makes me laugh, when he says “yes, I will drive across half the country for an adventure if you like” or “yes, I will make the coffee this morning and leave you in your head, leave you to your writing, leave you so I may join you later,” I cannot imagine the world without him in it.
How strange it is to write those words.
How lovely it is to write those words.
I cannot imagine the world without him in it.
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Curtis says
BLW it sounds like you are in love to me. You do not have to be dependent, give up your independences and just enjoy it for what it is. If it goes on trust will come more and more. Vulnerability is human and you will have to address that. But even then time with a positive track record should also address that issue. Something for you to think about:
Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.
– Lao Tzu
Leslie in Portland, Oregon says
Beautifully and aptly put, Curtis. Words to take to heart, BLW.
Kristen @ Motherese says
This is a beautiful piece of writing, D. I’m delighted to read of all the ways in which your relationship delights and bolsters you and I wish I could offer some kind of balm for the scar tissue that understandably remains from all the hurt you’ve endured. Then again I can’t imagine any better balm than the love of a worthy partner and it certainly seems as though you’ve found that – what better balm than love, except maybe time?
xoxo
D. A. Wolf says
Thanks, Kristen – and Curtis. Time, yes.
Judith A. Ross says
Beautiful post. I totally understand the need to know, at least, that you can stand on your own two feet in every way. Even after 30 years of a good marriage, I still fret about that.
D. A. Wolf says
Yes. Thanks, Judith.
Madgew says
Finally catching up. I was so invisible in my married life that I would not ever marry again. I love my own time and love being just the way I want and not having to compromise or share. Also, I know I have not found someone who would let me be independent.
Labergerebasque says
Beautiful thoughts, this reminds me of the time the Sheepfarmer innocently asked me “What is wrong about a man needing a woman and a woman needing a man?”
It took me a long time to fall backwards into his arms. He has never let me down.
Ana says
“I cannot imagine the world without him in it” really says it all for me. Everything will eventually come to an end – none of us are immortal – so we have to make the most of every minute and love is the best way to do that. After more than twenty years loving one guy I would say that my life is entwined with his no matter how independent I am, and grief is the price I might have to pay for loving. But if the alternative is not to love at all. it is a price worth paying.
D. A. Wolf says
Beautifully said, Ana.