When You Wish Upon A Star

People often ask me if I believe in God. It's a common enough question: usually safe and with people you're just trying to get to know better. My usual response is a shrug and non-commital face. I'm not really sure. The only way I do know how to answer is with a shrug and non-commital face.

The other day a co-worker asked me to pray for what he was praying for. He tried to be politically correct and said "to whomever you may pray to..." When I didn't really respond he asked if I pray. I told him no, because I don't, but then I added that I wish. And this is what I do and that's how I've defined my "religion" to others at other points in my life. I wish. I wish upon the stars and I wish when I find an extra eyelash and blow it out into the world. I make a wish when I succeed at holding my breath all the way through a tunnel and when I notice that it's 11:11.

Today, I wished to believe. I know telling a wish after it's been wished means it won't come true, but I'm going to break that rule and talk about my wish.

Last night, in bed with Jessa, I believed. Then, after reveling in my belief, I got scared off and I stopped believing. We were lying in bed and I curled away from her a bit. I know I'm excessively cuddly and touchy and always want to be held and touching. I know that. So I've learned how to get my need to feel physically close met while not suffocating the other person. We were lying in bed and she was on her back and I was curled with my head lying in the soft, warm, safe space between shoulder, neck and chest. Then I backed off. I took my weight off of her and pulled my leg off of her and back into me. My head was still close to her, but I was curled in a ball and my body was away.

She said it was unacceptable. And she said it with a smile. She honestly wanted to know why I was so far away. She wanted me back closer to her and those six inches of space between our bodies were six inches too many. So I curled back on top of her. I squeezed tightly and put pressure on her back with my pressing fingertips and I felt close. Mainly, I believed that she wanted me there. She wanted me right there with her; as close as I wanted to be to her, she wanted me to be that close to her.

(It's so clear that I'm not in a place where I can believe because I forced myself to write "she wanted to be that close to me" but I changed it back to "she wanted me to be that close to her" because even last night when I could and did believe, it didn't occur to me that she would want to be close to me, only that she could want me to be close to her. A slight difference in my head and heart, but a difference all the same.)

So I did curl back to her and got close and it felt amazing. I lay there with my head below hers in the warm darkness of her open bedroom and I felt what it was like to not only be tolerated or accepted or appeased, but to be equally desired. She wanted me there and I wanted to be there. So I told her. I said it out loud that I believed that she wanted me there. In a quieter voice, not a whisper, just a voice that's inherently and inevitably quiet, I followed my belief with the admission that I had never felt that before. I'd never believed that I was being held before bed because the other person wanted to hold me, not because they were giving me what I want.

Giving me what I want is amazing. Being held because the person knows I want or need to be held is a feeling of safety and love all its own.

Last night though, with Jessa, I was being held because she wanted to hold me. And not because she knew I'd get pouty if I didn't get it. Not because she wanted to make me happy. Not because she wanted to have sex with me--which is often a reason to be close, but we'd already had sex earlier in the day and talked about how nice it was implying that we wouldn't do it again that night.

Once I got the words out that I believed her and that I had never felt that before, I just wanted to say more. I wanted her to know what it felt like and how wonderful it was. My thoughts were occurring out loud for both of our benefits and with the speech and admission came more and more amazement and excitement and love--

It quickly turned to disbelief. It quickly turned to the realization that this belief that I was wanted will do nothing but hurt me. It wasn't even a conscious realization; the thought "this is going to hurt me" never materialized in words inside my head. It suddenly and harshly became omnipresent in my soul, forcing me to not believe, and to never believe. Even if I'm able to believe and be in love again, I can never believe in being wanted, just as I am, for nothing in return. There is always another reason or motivation or desire. I, me as myself, will never believe that I am enough. I will definitely never forgive myself if I get tricked into believing.

In my words of amazement out loud to Jessa, the weight of truth bared down upon me so I dropped my excited head down upon her chest and quietly and quickly spat out that “I don’t believe you.” My defenses are well trained and well practiced so they know to tell unwelcome truths with a half smile and joking tone, as if it’s a challenge, and trick that I do still believe.

Jessa reacted and I’m sure reacted well, but I had shut down so completely there was no way to get in again. I didn’t lie, but I wasn’t open and I played the game of changing the subject and quickly getting to the silence of sleep.

At 11:11 this morning, I made a wish because of an arbitrary cultural tradition I’ve grown up with and adopted as my own. I wished to believe again, then admitted it and joked that now it won’t come true.

I think it won’t because in explaining it here, the weight has again been placed inside my chest, and I just wish I could take it back.