The Desire to Heal

“I always believed good stuff was jumping on the sofa until you laugh, and kiss one another, car singing games, rolling your eyes laughing at someone you love. It's fun, and dirty, and you find a family, make a family, love someone completely, you snort and stop caring if you're doing it all wrong because you know. You know in your heart it's amazing and right. You just know. And you love selflessly... the man, the woman, the kids, the dog, the lack of space. You love it all. That is the good stuff.

I want to make those memories with someone. I want to start that life and to make a past with someone who can be my memory once I’ve created my distortions. I want someone to roll his eyes and tell me that’s not at all how it happened. Then kiss me on the head and love me anyway. We all want that. I have funny dating stories about foot cramping trying to make-out, and they’re lovely memories, but I’m tired of funny. Well, that’s not true. I love funny. I just want to share funny, to have another person be my personal notebook, to be my memory, and to know me when.”

--Stephanie Klein, http//:stephanieklein.blogs.com

Here’s the thing with me. I had the forever. I had the She Knew Me When. She’s one of the very, very few of my current friends who’ve ever even been to the hometown. In fact, of all my current friends, the only ones who’ve ever been “home” (whatever that means with all it’s inherent and painful implications) with me are the ones that grew up there with me. Besides Autumn and an awkward week with brother-job-stories, linen napkins, and juggling lessons, She’s the only one to ever go back there with me. Even Holly, who grew up there, only had dinner at my house once.

She knows all the background, y’know. Even though she didn’t come close to understanding it or acknowledging it the way I needed her to, at least it was out there. Despite the current resentment and lack of support when I needed it, it was better because she knew. She knew. And now there’s no one. I have to tell all the stories all over again, and I'm not sure I'm strong enough to explain it all again, to try again, to have faith that this next person (friend, lover, therapist) will stick and I won't have to just do it again later.

I’m in awe of how many current and close friends I have that have never known me without Her. As long as they’ve been in my life, I’ve been Her Girlfriend. I lived in that role and loved it. I read things about love and it feeling right and I swelled inside that yes, we had that. That. Now I have to deal with the fact that despite my utter naïve and idealistic belief in the love we had and I had for her, it wasn’t right. It didn’t work.

I feel like it should make me feel better to realize it wasn’t right; to look back at all the things that were wrong in the relationship and prove to myself why I made the right decision and my life is now better off. But that means realizing I was wrong for the past 3ish years. That means I had faith in something I shouldn’t have and all the decisions I made for the relationship may have been wrong. All the lying, all the hiding, all the manipulating, all the sacrifices, all the compromises, all the forgiveness--what do I do now that the justification of those actions is no more?

I don’t know. I guess I just thought I had shit figured out and even though my logical brain self is trying to snap me out of it (hello, I’m 23, of course I don’t have my shit figured out), my heart had faith and now I’m not sure I can ever believe the same way again. I don't know if I can ever love so purely and hopefully and completely ever again. Maybe I'm not supposed to.

Stephanie Klein is writing with the hopes of finding that person to spend forever with and make memories with and have that comfort with jumping and laughing on the couch.

I’m not there yet. I don’t want that. I want to know that maybe I can just be okay on my own and never again will someone trick me into believing she’ll be there for me when despite devoting my whole life to her and our relationship, it still doesn’t work out. There are no promises, no matter how hard I try or fight or work or love, there are no guarantees, and I just don’t want to be hurt again. I don't.