Anyone care to dance?

Ah…freedom.  I created a little freedom here.  I’m not sure if I achieved it by saying that I wouldn’t write for some weeks, or if I just created it by telling you the TRUTH. 

The freedom lies in releasing silly expectations that were never defined by anyone other than this SELF sitting upon this couch this morning.  And the truth is that I can’t do this alone.  If I feel alone here, in this writing, it’s still just a little TOO scary to do.  And it took some time to realize this. I didn’t KNOW that I was reaching out, hoping that others would take my hand.  That without regular feedback, I would start to just feel silly and embarrassed about being this open and vulnerable.  That shame would creep back into the space that hadn’t been filled by anything else. 

Feedback fills that space.  It’s not just “atta girls” that achieve this.  It’s also hearing YOUR own thoughts, experiences and triumphs.

I realize that the writing seems very personal.  I have heard this time and time again, that people didn’t want to share it with others, because they feel like they need my permission.  That maybe I only wanted people who KNEW me to read these thoughts.  OR that they didn’t want to take the focus away from me and write comments and such.  Oh Lord.  PLEASE take the focus away from me.  I don’t need to focus on HER too much.  It’s much more fun and even therapeutic, to clear my own mindfulness away from self, and open myself up to what others have to say…what song they are singing at that very moment.

I hope that this kind of truth and triumph can be a movement of sorts.  That you can run with my words and that through your own personalization and intention, you pass it on.  Sure, sometimes to me, but more importantly, to others.  And I would love more than anything, for this blog to grow or move to something bigger.  Sure.

Sometimes we just want to DO something.  And it’s important to NOT always wait for the WHY, because if we wait too long for those answers, our boldness and passion for the action itself…wanes.  And I didn’t want to do that anymore.  I’ve figured out some of the WHY, by the actual DOING.  The writing.

I found that when I write for myself alone, like journaling, I don’t worry about a few things.  If these thoughts are IMPORTANT enough, INSIGHTFUL enough, WELL-SPOKEN enough.  Oh shit.  Am I talking about the writing?  Or about MYSELF?  Because I’m pretty sure that I’m none of those things on a regular basis.  And that just can’t matter too much. 

WELL-SPOKEN is the one that makes me laugh.  Mike always giggles when I make up words.  It’s become a little thing of ours.  That I will go on some diatribe, eventually inserting words that are NOT in any dictionary…and he just giggles a bit.  And that’s when I know that I’ve done it again.  I created a word that has no meaning, and YET, he knows exactly what I’m saying.  That’s really lovely…for two reasons. 

One, I never knew that I did this SO often.  I am middle-aged now and no partner has ever paid attention to my idiosyncrasies, appreciated them, nor have they ever delighted in the silly things that make me…me.  And his vocabulary is much more extensive than my own. 

And two, because in almost every instance, I do not need to over explain myself, he just knows what I’m talking about.  Perhaps it’s context clues.  Perhaps I have an easily understandable way of conveying thoughts.  And maybe he just gets me.  My core.

I certainly didn’t need or want to MELD into another being, but having an equal partner was paramount.  “Partner” is such an unemotional and generic term, but likely, underappreciated as well.  I’m not sure that we as humans do partnership all too well, for the most part.  I think most partnerships, be they professional or personal, usually have a hierarchy.  Or maybe the predominant being steps forward for certain decision-making.  There’s a give and take with who leads, dependent upon their aptitudes and talents…hopefully not because of control.  That’s never a good idea. 

I don’t want to be an appendage, for someone to always lead me around the dance floor and decide when I can twirl and dip.  I want to be free to choose as well.  To know that when I am ready, I can lean into that action, trusting that the other person is going to support that action and even let go of my grasp, because I’m ready to dance alone for a while.  And to be the one leading at times.  Mike is the predominant physical being, but there’s plenty of ways in which I dip him as well.  He doesn’t mind being led at all and even welcomes it. 

We not only appreciate the other person’s presence, but also trust that we’ll learn something about ourselves if we dance together and if we pay attention to the other person’s solos, how they move their bodies, when they ask for our hand again.  Because if you don’t feel like you are thriving, the problem might be you.  Or it could be that you are dancing with the wrong partner, frankly.  

Mike healed some very important things for me.  And yes, I credit him with paving the way for my recovery.  I still had to begin it alone.  He was ready and willing to take my hand, but that certainly didn’t make my feet move.  That had to come from me, otherwise he would have just been dragging me along for the ride.  He trusted me to find my own path, regardless of what the outcome was, because he has always known my core.  My heart.  Even when I drank.  And he’s a willing and equal participant in our partnership.  Fully.

When we met, there was inherent trust, even if it didn’t immediately become physical.  Now, it didn’t immediately become physical, because we were separated by hundreds of miles.  An interesting start.  This was not planned, but likely became an important part of why and how our partnership evolved.  The conversations were unbelievably open and insightful and revealing…as if listening to him speak opened up a part of me that had been silent for far too long, hibernating until sunlight warmed my skin.  And conversations are definitely a partnership.  You don’t have to sit long talking to an individual to know if that kind of journey is going to be symbiotic, MUTUALLY beneficial to both parties.  Right?  Fantastic banter should be enchanting for the both of you…even enlightening, because you wouldn’t reach certain realizations, if the other person wasn’t contributing.  If you weren’t feeding off one another. 

Oh goodness, I love that.  And yes, I find myself lucky and even blessed to have it at 46, with the person who also lies under the covers with me at night.  We are perfectly happy to pull those covers up over ourselves and camp out alone for untold hours, shining the flashlights around, chasing the other person’s thoughts.

I function better with a partner.  Period.  I have no doubt that Mike and I’s relationship is an important part of my own personal recovery.  Perhaps that makes me sound weak or dependent.  Who knows?  And also?  Who cares?  Not I.  I don’t apologize for saying that I could not do this alone. 

But what is the “THIS”? 

Recovery?  Life?  I mean, isn’t it all the same?  

If he were to not be a part of my life, I would still have a need for the kind of love, support and understanding that he provides.  It’s just likely that it would have been a little harder to find, if I hadn’t already had this kind of partner.  Make sense? It doesn’t need to move into co-dependent territory.  I just think that it’s simply easier to thrive when this kind of love is present.

Writing in this way, has been another process for me.  I knew early on that I didn’t want to be alone, and that I wouldn’t be as successful alone, in RECOVERY.  But even after being in that arena for months, I found it difficult to be up front with you in this space.  When I look back at my writings, it’s almost embarrassing to see me painfully try to tell you that I felt alone.  That writing was becoming more isolating than I ever intended.  I not only want this to be a conversation of some sorts.  I need for it to be.  Otherwise, it’s just not as positive, for me personally…because I thrive personally, when the relationship is symbiotic.  Because each and every response, each and every one of your thoughts, whether public or personal, is something for me to take in.  Insightful, interesting, and encouraging. 

I write alone.  I think I’ve already said that.  But the part that I find interesting, is how I even got the gumption to post the very first writing.  And how and why I continued to write, even though it was bringing personal pain.

The answer lies in the fact that crucial people in my life are supportive and non-judgmental.  And that these same people not only support me as a person in recovery, but they want me to thrive in other ways as well.  To not hold myself back in any way, because they trust that whatever comes from my core, from my heart space, is likely worth exploring.  So I find that I’m able to move forward with less hesitation, really.  I’m able to move towards action that seems undoable, because that foundation of love is solid. 

Would I have entered recovery sooner, if I had been with Mike sooner?  Well, yes.  Probably.  I believe that. 

And would I have had the personal strength to WRITE about it?  If I DIDN’T have a partner who supports me in this way?  To THAT, I say NO.  I doubt it.

Of all of the writings, I have only run a couple of them by Mike before posting.  Yes, the first Facebook “admission” was pretty fucking bold.  I didn’t so much ask or need for him to critique the writing itself.  I needed to know that he was “okay” that I be that public about my past.  Okay for HIM, as my partner in life.  I already knew that he wasn’t embarrassed by me in any way.  But to feel SUPPORTED to use my own talents and experience was liberating, to say the least.  He doesn’t read anything before I post it.  I don’t even know that he reads each entry on the actual posting day, because we’ve moved past discussing the writing on a regular basis.  And that’s good, frankly.  Our lives do not need to center around me or whatever I may or may not be writing.  Ha!  That probably wouldn’t be healthy.  It was funny to hear him comment about my last post, about 10 hours after I wrote it, as he casually said,” So… You are taking a break from writing for a while?” as he sat upon the couch that evening.

I ran that first post by my mom, as well.  Honestly, I somewhat expected her to say that I shouldn’t post that on Facebook.  She is much more active in that space that I had been in the past, and she knows MANY more people than myself, frankly.  I guess I assumed, that while she was proud of my recovery, she might be worried about the ramifications of my being public with that information.  You see, for many years, my mom openly expressed that I needed to be a classroom teacher.  That THAT’S where my talents would benefit both myself and others.  But while I got a music education degree, I didn’t use this degree in the classroom, until I needed its stability and income, frankly.  After divorce.  And I believed then, as well as now, that writing in this way could hinder my options, if I ever decide to teach again.  But once she immediately said that she LOVED the writing and that I SHOULD post it if I wanted to, I knew that she encouraged my growth FAR more than I had ever realized.  That she cared more about me doing what I thought was right and good, FAR more than she believed that I needed to be in the classroom.  And that was a gift that I didn’t know that I needed.

With both Mike and my mother, I just needed to know that we were PARTNERS.  And that writing was a way for me to “lead” in my own life.

I am lucky to have them, as well as each one of you reading.  Sure, it’s fun to dance alone sometimes.  God only knows what I look like when I’m alone in the kitchen, with Beastie Boys in the background, jacked up on whatever “high” they are feeding me.  Or when my indie folk hippie tunes move me to swerve my hips, and make me feel like I’m 13 again, dancing in my lyrical ballet class.  But I just don’t want to do this writing alone.  I’m asking for you to be a partner in this space.  To not let go of my hand in the middle of the chorus, leaving me awkward and alone on the dance floor. 

So, thank you for joining me here. Anyone care to dance?