For some reason, I thought re-reading some of John's and my early correspondence was a good thing to do between Bridge, turkey and presents on Christmas day. I read the first two and a half weeks worth. That may not sound like much, but it is probably around (or over) 300 messages and is almost 100 pages, single spaced (in Word with 10 point font). Now, a page of that is some photos, and 2 pages are error messages, that happened at the most crazy-making time. I'd forgotten about those delivery delays. But mostly it is the two of us struggling to make sense, connection, and demand our own integrities as each of us experienced a searing (I believe) challenge. There are moments where I seem to be fighting for my sense of self, and wish like hell I didn't feel compelled to.
I think I was more into John than he was into me. He saw me as an interesting possibility, but one of many. If I couldn't meet his needs, he would look elsewhere--as he had to. This was a new world for him, and he needed to explore. I, on the other hand, had had my fill of that world and needed a reason to stay and trust in that world again. I knew there were no other possibilities (at least at that moment in that world). And I can't believe someone like John exists--so I compromised in ways that wouldn't necessarily have set us up well.
Reading it had a fraction of the charge that living it did. But it still made me weak in the knees and wet (several times) and sad and hopefully and excited.
The degree that we instantly recognized the other amazes me. By that, I think we saw in the other a true counterpart, with mutually simpatico intelligence, integrity and passions. We are amazingly trusting from the get go. I'm much less trusting of strangers on-line now that I used to be. I keep men at arms distance until they prove that I can trust them. Even my first name, or my phone number--I never give those out any more.
At first, I did not make it clear my fear of pain, and then I did, perhaps too much so. Or I let that define too much. I let the public persona define what is also true for the private gal. But I also don't think I made horrible mistakes. I clung to what I knew to be true--perhaps too much so. But, even knowing what I know now, I don't know how I could have been different and also been honest.
My fear and trepidation drove him crazy! Just crazy. And it has often driven me crazy. If I could wish away my fear, I would have long ago. I'm sure this blog would not exist without my angst.
I wish I had some profound conclusion. I don't. It seems like John and I have a depth that is amazing, and sooner or later, I'll do things that will drive him crazy. And, in my over-reacting to his frustration, I'll feel insecure, which may very well drive him more crazy. But I also see a willingness to sink in depth, explore and a joy in the other. I hope we can work through those better the next time.
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