I found this just browsing my writings. I wrote it near the end of September 2013. Don’t know why I never posted it, but I like it. I hope you do too…
I had dinner with my ex two weeks ago. The ex. The woman to whom no one else could ever compare.
She was the first and only woman that I wanted to settle down and spend my life with. We were perfectly opposite and complementary – yin-yang type shit. The reformed hood chick turned semi-conservative police officer, and the free-spirited hippie with Black Panther leanings who can’t stand the police (though seeing her in her uniform turned me on). Our meeting and walking into long-distance love was completely unexpected, gradual and everything I wanted and needed it to be at the time. I had never felt so connected to someone. The best part about being a lesbian (for me) is getting to have sex with your best friend. And for a long time, we had that. With her I felt safe, protected, loved and at home.
It took me two years to get over her. Two years of false starts and start agains. Two years to be able to be completely emotionally available to someone – most importantly, to myself.
Our break up was hard. There was no bad blood or drama, only fear, lack of communication, too much assumption and unhealthy comfort. We thought we could handle the distance – we were wrong. We equally contributed to the demise of our relationship and I think we both wish we would have done things differently. Now, we watch The Fosters and see who we think we could have been.
But I also think we both knew that our time has ended, and there’s no need for us to hold on. I think we – okay, lemme stop speaking for this woman – I know that I spent too much time comparing other people to her. Women I met after we broke up would never measure up to who I imagined she would be as a full-time, close-distance lover. I’m a dreamer, and I was in love with a dream. I loved who I wanted us to be, not who we were. I knew that was foolish and based in ego, but I was afraid that once I let go of the dream, of the longing for her, all I would have is… me. As if I’m not more than enough. I knew better. I just needed to give myself time to do better.
When we had dinner, I was finally able to make peace with the fact that we were over. But the love will last. My love for her reminds me that when it’s real, it never goes away. It just transforms. I’d like for us to be friends one day, but I’m open to whatever the universe has in store for us. Accepting that our relationship was not about the destination of marriage, but the journey of growth, made it easier for me to understand that we’ll always be connected by our love for one another. That kiss two weeks ago was a goodbye kiss. It was a “letting go with love” kiss. Through dinner and the processing of my emotions, I found myself embracing the modification of our connection. And now I’m ready to move on.
So many lessons I gained from our relationship. Learning some of my partnering necessities: tons of laughter, being able to cuddle in bed or on the couch, watch a movie and be content in the simplicity of it all. I felt free to be my complete self – silly, sarcastic, cynically optimistic. Emotionally vulnerable.
Because of my experience with her, I’m constantly developing new ways to actively love myself – beyond quoting positive affirmations and posting “no filter” selfies. It’s a life-long process, this self-love thang. And it’s something I have to commit to every day. It’s cliché, but it works (it’s cliché because it works): I focus on the things that I have and love. My health, employment, a working car, healthy happy children, friends that love me, books, the ability to wake up in the morning and sit in silence, stretch and do five push-ups before I start my day. It means not worrying about how the world may see me. It’s okay to not wash the dishes every night. It’s okay to just be.
I’m more in tune with and observant of myself. I’m deeply aware of and unapologetic about my needs, and my desires. I hear my quiet voices and the ones that scream at me. I’m learning when to listen to them and when to tell them to shut the fuck up.
Those moments when I feel lonely – and they can happen out of nowhere – I stop and allow myself to feel the sun on my skin. The breeze kisses my face and I listen to the birds and crickets weave their tales. And I know the loneliness is just passing through, giving me a chance to remember that I am surrounded in, and held by Love, that I am one with the Great Mystery that sustains life. I am walking, swimming in Love. Living it and breathing it, every day.
The most important thing to me right now is to build a village for myself and my daughters. I want them to know they are held up by strong, vulnerable, intelligent, emotionally mature, protective and protected women. Women who are full of flaws and forgiveness. And when the time is right, I hope for one of those women, one of those villagers to be my partner. But for now, I am in an open relationship with myself. I know the success of all of my present and future connections – friendship and romantic – depends first on the relationship I have with the many women that make up the whole of who I am.