My Gypsy Soulmate
Indulge me for a moment. It’s our anniversary today, and I’d like to say a few words.
This journey of self-enlightenment and -expression didn’t start off with a bang or magically occur right when I put the nightly bottle away. That’s why I’ve said before that it feels like actual “recovery” started with my relationship with Mike, which began almost four years ago…while my alcohol-free life started almost a year and a half ago.
Without going into a lot of detail…let’s just say that I consider myself in recovery for two things: the lasting effects of abuse found in two relationships in my life. In this way, my relationship with Mike began to heal one, while my eventual breakup with Chardonnay, began to heal the other…
And all of this healing eventually morphed into a new form of self-discovery.
In any important relationship, I believe there must be trust, vulnerability, acceptance, SUPPORT and personal commitment. And if you don’t have ALL the aforementioned aspects in that particular relationship, then I doubt that you are being fed.
And if you aren’t being FED, I doubt that you are GROWING.
I’ve been coming up with a lot of GRAND ideas lately. Well, at least more than I’m used to. It’s been happening for a while now…this sense that new ideas are coming so easily that I can hardly tell just where they started from.
I like to bounce these off Mike. And I’ve learned that when one of us accepts the INITIAL lead of the other, DOESN’T take a giant shit on the idea at the get-go, and we brainstorm through it…we usually come up with a final idea that’s absolutely magical.
Yesterday, I was passionate about clean floors. Maybe today it will be staining the bathroom cabinets. I mean last night, I actually made Mike pause our show, so that I could sit up in bed and tell him about my idea for us to run an RV-Park-bed-and-breakfast. It combines our PASSIONS for RV travel, eclectic people, cooking, entertaining and music…because I imagine some nights would include Mike strumming the guitar and the two of us harmonizing some 90’s tune in funky fashion. Oh my goodness, I’m a dork. We decided we’ll call it the Gypsy Soul RV Park, since Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic” was our recessional for our wedding. Each morning, we’ll hang out and have coffee with whatever guests join us, and since many of them may be retirees, I’m happy to join them early.
Who knows? Maybe some of you might join us on the outskirts of Austin in a couple of years. I’ll make homemade muffins, he’ll mastermind some breakfast on the outdoor griddle, and we can share in some coffee talk at 4:30 am! Fine…8:00 am. Whatever.
Perhaps I’m in a groooove. The background music is cool jazz. I feel a little funky and fresh, and my brain can flit about and improvise, fueled by a little expertise and a little inspiration. I’m scatting. And it feels like I’m free.
The strange thing is…that I didn’t even know that I once was bound.
I mean our lives aren’t perfect. I doubt anyone’s is right at this moment. But, over the last four years, there seems to have been a momentum building, where our relationship has strengthened, and therefore, we as individuals, have begun to thrive. If I were to say it simply, I’d say that this process of being together seems to feed us both…so much so, that I feel more independent now than I EVER have. Independent thoughts. Independent endeavors. Independent growth. I’m finally thriving.
So why is THAT? Why has something in me…shifted?
Well, I think the last five years have been a process:
“I am a piece of shit. I am a special piece of shit. I am special.”
In many ways, Mike found me in the “I am a piece of shit” phase. Sorry, Mike.
It doesn’t matter if these exact words were used against me or not. That’s how I felt. I had been in a relationship where those five requirements were not met. And unfortunately, it took me a rather long time to realize just how absent each and every one of them were. Evidently, I am a little bit of a slow learner.
I excelled at certain things, but only intermittently…usually endeavors which happened to be by myself and not requiring much support. I can’t really say that these things were musical. I mean, I felt mildly successful in music, but arranging flowers was a turning point, really. And I often wonder why. It likely lies in the fact that offering music, singing, or even teaching in music never felt like my “calling”. At least not back then. Isn’t a calling usually something special? At least seemingly so, to the person doing the action of the “call”? Yes, flowers DID IT for me. I felt inspired. Productive. Accomplished.
Some people thought I was crazy for such a seemingly strange and independent endeavor, but THAT’S where I started to feel just a little bit special. Likely, that was because of the initial newness of it all, the independent creative process and also, the inherent praise of succeeding in doing something that hopefully fulfilled a person’s vision or even their DREAM. Oh Lordy, that was always the best. Feeling like I created someone’s Dream Wedding lifted me up like nothing else. I’ve felt that a few times after singing, but not to the same degree. Perhaps I’m too self-critical of my musical endeavors. That’s actually very likely. But those reactions after weddings, meant something to me. It was feedback. It was support of my effort and creativity. I felt special for a moment, even though the gratitude often came from strangers.
I think I only felt like a failure once, and that happened to be after a wedding where I was actively miscarrying a child while doing the flowers. Yeah, I was decently proud of the work, but my heart wasn’t exactly IN it. Maybe that showed. And it was the only time that I received any negative feedback whatsoever. That bride wasn’t very nice to me, and yes, that hurt.
But I gave up flowers when I moved to London. And I even sold my baby grand. Both choices were regrettable. And it just goes to show you that you should never continue to sacrifice what you love, in order to save a relationship that isn’t feeding you.
That only feeds the Beast.
I started to heal some of the damage while single. That was quite the effort, you have no idea. Believe me…I didn’t like sitting in the shitty phase. I wasn’t happy to remain there, but it seemed to take great effort to go anywhere else at all. But…I still made a little progress.
I started classroom teaching. That was successful. I found out that I wasn’t physically repulsive. That was even better. And I tried to understand what it meant for me to be alone.
This was good, but also a little bad for me, personally. I discovered that, especially during THAT time, I needed support like nobody’s business. I was just too marred to be able to function healthily…never MIND the ultimate goal of THRIVING. And I don’t blame ANYONE for NOT being able to be that kind of support for me. Without my own personal commitment to moving forward in a fully healthful way, I would keep regressing…at least in part. You know, the whole “one step forward, two steps back” saying. Or in my case, “hold it together during the day, and drink at night when alone” saying.
And when I met Mike, it would have been really easy to have started out jaded. But that’s not really my personality. I realize that we had history together as children and teenagers, and that’s likely to be one of the reasons why trust was established so quickly. And, it didn’t matter that my last long relationship was missing those important qualities, I didn’t want to ever believe that they weren’t possible. To believe that, would have been giving up on that dream wedding, even if I didn’t have any idea what that Dream looked like.
I knew that I wanted something different, and I was conscious of my intention from the beginning. And he must have been as well, because little by little, I started to see and feel the effects of those attributes of a successful relationship that I wanted in my life. There was trust, vulnerability, acceptance, support and commitment. Maybe not all at once, but we seemed to be building them in rather rapid succession. That’s why it felt “other worldly”, in a sense. You could say that it felt like a CALL. We were married within a year, probably freaking out our families more than they ever truly admitted, and we asked everyone around us to ride that wave with us. I bet they feel pretty relieved at this moment that it all seems to be working out. Ha! Sure, we were moved by the Spirit, but we are also both individuals who believe wholeheartedly in faithful commitment and continued growth.
And now I’m in Recovery. AND I’m Writing. And it feels just as “other worldly” as our relationship did almost 4 years ago. I feel my second CALLING. Who knows if it’s what I was meant to be? I mean who determines THAT? Well, no one but me.
The first time I wrote, something rose up in me. It was a call to freedom. A literal expression of coming out of the darkness and scatting my way through my new song. And he was by my side. He doesn’t choose my words, but his love creates a place where I am safe to be ALL of the things that I’ve sought to embrace about myself…even the parts that once brought shame or embarrassment. And in this expression of my authentic self, I seem to have opened the inner parts that I had no idea existed. Maybe the writer was always lying in wait. Maybe she didn’t feel safe to express herself before. Maybe she is ME.
But you know…I bet we’re ABLE to be more open to the calls, when we don’t feel like a piece of shit. If an individual doesn’t feel loved and supported, I would think they would be hard to hear. This doesn’t have to come directly from a parent or a romantic partner or even from a primary relationship. I’m sure this is great when it does…but just think about the amazing stories that you’ve heard about that ONE teacher or that ONE friend whose overwhelming and meaningful encouragement, changed a person’s life.
So, it feels like I’m making it through that progression that I would ultimately love to complete. I’m not sure if it will ever be in my lifetime, but I’m going for it. I bet you can tell.
“I am a piece of shit. I am a special piece of shit. I am special.”
Writing seems to be the way that I’m working through that second sentence. I’m embracing the process, really…accepting the parts that once made me feel like shit, but I’m also realizing that my abilities may make me just a little bit special. I don’t really consider myself a “gifted writer”, per se. It likely has more to do with the fact that I’m as open as I am. And honest. Is that brutal?
Today I celebrate MORE than just who Mike is. I think that’s usually what people focus on when celebrating an anniversary, right? You know, they give flowers or write a love note to the person, saying what they mean to them. I can do that and probably should, but I don’t think you need to read it. That will be directly to him. He doesn’t need a yard sign this morning.
Rather, today I celebrate who WE happen to be when we are together…this union of magic that clearly supports each of us as individuals and acknowledges who we are. Shitty parts and special parts.
Three years ago, we recessed down an aisle holding hands and made a commitment to be the best for the other person…to give one another those five aspects of a relationship which enable us as individuals to grow. I know EXACTLY what his love has created in me, and I am so thankful.
Who knows where we are headed? Perhaps into the mystic.
(Oh, how I wish I had a recording from our wedding. My fellow choir director played, and he and his beautiful wife sang. It was…magical.)
