Love and Wisdom

The boat cruised slowly along the bayou, in a rare and peaceful moment when the radio wasn’t clamoring with comms and the water wasn’t splashed around by dozens of kayakers charging downstream as they raced to Allen’s Landing. What started off as a busy morning supporting the race with rescue efforts, had become quiet and serene. As me and my two partners putted along the bayou, silence fell upon us as we took in the scene around. As a desert dweller for the vast majority of my life, I was taken by how foreign this whole area looked to me. Large trees, with bone-white bark, loomed over the bayou, where an assortment of vines and ferns billowed into the water from the banks around it. For a minute, you’d think you were in some sub-tropical jungle, thousands of miles away, until the skyscraper in the distance peered through the trees. It’s enough to let my mind go wander, in this small pause in work, and that’s exactly what my mind does: it wanders to a text I got the Friday before, which hit me like an ice cold wave.

It was from “W,” whom I have not heard from or been able to talk to since March. My new girlfriend and I were on our way to see my favorite band, Thrice, when the text came through. It was both a pleasant surprise as well as a painful reminder… and so much more that I couldn’t even begin to describe. The emotions swirled inside me like a hurricane brewing in the distance. These emotions are not directed at my ex nor do they have anything to do with her other than them being proximal to what transpired months prior; they are all directed towards the emotions I feel of missing parenthood and playing on a wound that I hadn’t had a chance to heal yet. An area that I had zero closure on. The emotions are both grief and happiness, all at once. Like a cold and warm front, they clash together and a storm begins. My girlfriend gripped my hand in the Uber, sensing the enormity of it all.

I’ve cried enough tears in this past first half of a year to flood the city streets of Houston again. Since moving here, I haven’t cried much save for the time I found out my buddy died a few weeks ago, yet I find myself in this Uber choking on air. I had a choice in that moment: chase ghosts or focus on my relationship and the present moment. I chose the latter, compartmentalized this moment to visit at another time, and focused my energy on the weekend she and I planned on having together. I grant myself grace for feeling this way. I work to label it neither shitty nor good… it just is what it is.

“You don’t have to solve this today, Linnie, or next week… nor the week after.” The old me would break out a million self-help books. I would have called up my friends and asked them what this all meant, and fret about what I should do, but the new me prioritizes myself first now. I fall back to my old adage I’ve created throughout this experience... the “wait and see” method of dealing with this. There is a time where you must make a quick decision, then there is a time to wait and see how the situation unfolds… wisdom is knowing the difference.

But as the rain drops pitter patter on the river we coast along, the silence opens up an opportunity to explore last week’s thoughts.

I think about what “W” texted me… that he misses me and I was a good friend to him. I tell him he was a good friend to me to, which is the truth. He was the closest friend I had during the pandemic, except my ex.

I think about why I don’t write as much anymore, and how I’ve put Axios aside.

I think about my relationship and how I must choose to nurture it first.

With “W,” the situation is far more complex than it seems. He is not my child, he is not my responsibility, and any interaction with him could be taken from both he and I again. It was not fair to neither he or I with what happened, nor was it our fault, but it’s now my responsibility to find a way to deal with it. It’s not Megan’s responsibility to deal with a partner who is emotionally distracted and it’s not “W's” responsibility as he’s a child; it’s mine and mine alone.

I ask myself “what do I get out of this?” by interacting with him. What is the end goal that I am getting out of it? And it is simply just love and purpose, the kind you get from cultivating a young person’s mind.

If I go down the path of having him in my life, what risks are involved? What if we are, once again, not allowed to talk to each other? What damage could ensue? What if he comes to me for advice that I can’t provide because I will have a strong and unfavorable opinion on it? What if he expresses happiness that his parents are back together, but that fact is why I was placed in so much misery? What would this do for my current relationship? What a field full of emotional and psychological landmines… If I choose W, I run the risk of abandoning myself… and abandoning ones self is how we got into this sticky mess to begin with. I feel guilty in a way, for finally getting what my heart has longed for but knowing that I can’t have it.

I run through the scenario with my therapist, as this is beyond my ability to navigate (they don’t make books on this kind of shit). We brain storm, think of win-win solutions, think of ways to make this a structured approach but ultimately we end up coming back full circle to where we started. We give each other a knowing nod… we both know what I have to do.

Months ago, my therapist had tasked me with looking into what I defined love as. I went on this journey for months, meeting people, reading texts, and trying to come up with my own definition of it. I thought I had figured it all out, until she reminds me that sometimes love is wisdom… wisdom of knowing who’s needs to put first, when to pour it into yourself, and when you know that your presence will do more harm than good. Sometimes that wisdom is knowing that you can’t give them what they need.

And then there is Megan. Someone who showed up and continues to show up. Someone whom is complete, and in love with herself, much like I am. Someone who deserves to be chosen. Someone who is happy and content on their own, but combined we are happy together as well. Someone who has a high degree of emotional intelligence, and who doesn’t require me to be her everything (that’s too much pressure for one person to take). You see, part of that wisdom of love that I have come to discover is the relationship between codependency, expectations, and resentment. When we say things like “you are my everything, you are my hopes and dreams, you are all I live for” we are placing all of our power onto someone else. In that, we develop expectations for that person to BE what we want them to be for us, which just sets us up for disappointment when they don’t fulfill that need. This breeds resentment, and chaos ensues. We try to force them to be what we want them to be, to fulfill that role we imaged in our heads… and when they don’t we strangle it. That’s not love… that’s possession.

With Megan, we aren’t that for each other. We are our own women, and we celebrate our differences. I want to dedicate my brain power to nurturing that. I place no expectations upon her to fulfill some need I have, much like I place no expectations upon “W” to fulfill the void I’ve had since he’s been gone.

I find myself starting a to write a lot, but have been met with resistance from my own mind. Writing this blog was a refuge for me, but I’m finding my words falling flat. New thoughts come to the surface all the time, but sink away into the nothingness in which they came from, echoing as they disappear. Maybe it’s because there isn’t much left to say that hasn’t already been said? Maybe I am just tired of spending so much time analyzing myself and this whole situation that I just want to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Maybe it’s because this situation doesn’t define me nor controls me anymore. Maybe it’s because I spent months trying to fix me, only to realize that this wasn’t ever really about me… that I am not the cause of what happened to me, but collateral damage. It’s not my fault, but it’s my responsibility on how I press forward, and I choose to be happy above all else.

It’s why I can forgive but not forget (which is an EXCELLENT topic I want to bring up in the next blog).

I mean, I should write when I am happy, because at this moment I am truly happy. But I find a delicate balance between expressing what’s going good in my life and not exploiting my current relationship (or weaponizing it, as she would say). I don’t want people to have the false sense that I am not still processing some things or that “I’m all healed everyone! Yaaay!” I don’t want people to have the false idea that I am happy because I’m in a relationship. No, my happiness was established first before I dove into a relationship.

Additionally, I don’t want it to seem like I am taking Megan, and waving her in front of peoples faces like “HA! Look at me, I’ve moved on…” because Megan is a PERSON, not an achievement. She is not a tool to use to evoke jealousy or spite.

The rain drizzles on us in the boat as we cruise around. The sounds of the birds and distant hum of traffic take me back. Thunder rumbles in the background, which normally would give me a sense of unease being on the water, but not today. Not as I am lost in my thoughts…

Is he still kind hearted? Has he made new friends? Are people being nice to him? Does he love the drums? Does he feel good about himself? Does he have a girl he has a crush on? How will he cope with his first heart break? Is he going to do jiu jitsu? Does he still take things apart and try to put them back together? Does he still remember me? Will I become a distant memory?

Wisdom is knowing that I may never get those answers, but finding closure in being ok with that fact. Wisdom is not wasting so much energy into a series of unknowns and worrying about what hasn’t happened, but pouring myself into something I know is a sure thing. Wisdom is waiting and seeing. Wisdom is knowing when to walk away.