Every so often, when you need it most but expect it least, the universe gives you a gift.
Mine came three weeks ago, though it began with the unleashing of a torrent of anger and resentment directed at me that sent me curled into my bed for most of a day. I seriously debated just staying between my cozy, flannel sheets for the weekend but decided at the last minute to go out, to get out of my battered head for a while. I was supposed to be meeting up with a friend.
That fell through at the last minute. Instead what I got was a lightning strike, straight to the ass at 1:34 in the morning.
Yes, it came in the form of a boy—no, a man—who could see me for who I really am. And I could see him. All within ten minutes.
Once again, Fate intervened and turned my head to make me look at what it wanted me to see.
"What the fuck?" I asked myself. "Did that just happen?"
Why, yes. Yes, it did.
It's like the universe looked at all of the work I've done over the past three years, the lessons I fought so hard to learn through my crazy time of transformation, and said, "Okay. Let's see what you do with this."
It's so plainly, painfully obvious that I have to practice what I preach with this. I have to walk the talk. So which lessons are most important now?
Don't hide yourself away. I am a force of nature. Hot Pocket said recently that even she has a hard time keeping up with me. "It's like chasing a preschooler in the sunshine," she said. "It's beautiful but exhausting sometimes." I'm not offended by that, especially coming from a sister from another mister. I know how I am. But I hid much of that from myself and others for so long, and it almost destroyed me. I have to be truthful to myself and let my inner disco ball shine brilliantly. I seriously debated reining that in, to keep some of the glittery, blinding brilliance from him at least initially, afraid that I would overwhelm yet another man. To be less than I am would be detrimental to me and wholly dishonest to him. And any man who wouldn't want me to be completely Stephanie is exactly the kind of man I don't want in my life. Turns out, he's not intimidated and barely even fazed by my muchness.
Open your mouth and say what you want. I'm not a little girl; I'm a grown-ass woman. I have the right and responsibility to express my thoughts and desires to a potential partner. No matter how in sync we may feel, he can't read my damn mind. If I want him to know something, it's on me to make that clear. Again, it seems less threatening to dance around an issue or to insinuate or imply. That's a sure-fire way to foster the miscommunication that will eventually lead to distance and anger. It's hard sometimes to let someone else into the cacophonous din of my head and my heart, and I have to at least offer to be their tour guide. He not only understands why I am so open and forward—he appreciates it.
Stay in the moment. Oh, being still is the hardest for me. I like a plan; I like to have expectations for the future. Even if the best-laid plans go awry, I am flexible and resourceful enough to shift quickly to a new, diverging path. But to be here, peacefully, is very difficult for me. I don't know where this will be in six weeks or six months or six years, and every time my head tries to go to that place, I clamp down on those thoughts and tell myself to shut the fuck up. He is here and now; that is where I will get to know him and where he will really get to know me. And I find that, historically, when I've had a serious expectation of long-term, that's exactly the moment I begin to take my partner and that relationship for granted. Anticipation of a lifetime or longer has often given me an excuse not to care for now, because my missteps can always be forgiven when there's an indefinite amount of time before me. Now, with this man, I have to work to be present rather than projecting for a future. My frenzied head has to give up control to my patient heart and let it lead me slowly toward whatever adventure awaits.
I realized this week that I spend so much time reacting to emotion—mine or someone else's—that I often forget to simply let myself feel what's happening, good or bad. And what's happening, right now, feels spectacular. He's amazing for reasons that would take me days to express, not the least of which is that he is totally accepting of my relationship with my girls. Growler both unexpectedly met him ("That boy is dazzled, Stephanie.") and gave him his nickname (Bounder, which I will not explain in this forum). Hot Pocket got the Tingle of Truthiness when I told her lightning had struck again. Even Queen Frostine has given him her stamp of approval from a distance.
In the way he always does, Hammer nailed me with the most honest appraisal of this point in my life: "You'll never feel normal again because your normal has changed. This is great progress and I'm happy for you."
Me, too, Hammer. Me, too.
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