time and space

There are two women I'm close to who always remember poignant details of my life; my mother and Betty Ann.
These women recall every event, quote, tear and UTI with such ease and never cease to amaze me with the minute details they can recall.
Betty Ann probably could list the names of the men I've dated with more ease than I.
My mother? My mother remembers the color of the dress I wore to sophomore homecoming.
They're just that good.

So I told my mom how life always seems to repeat itself, how patterns emerge and when you fail one test another opportunity comes along that seems to be a copy of somewhere you've been before.
It's deja vu, all over again.

I've always been a bit intense in my serious relationships.
Me? Intense? I know you're shocked to read such a confession.
Truth be told, I'm probably intense in all of my relationships.
I, like many foolish women, fall into the habit of talking with my infatuation every day, seeing him nearly every day, doing everything together and then feeling hurt when he suddenly needs time to himself.

In my defense, it has been several years since I've had a serious relationship.
I'd like to think I wouldn't be nearly such a silly school girl about it all.
Time will tell.

So I'm telling mother about this guy I've meshed with--how's that for vague and nonspecific?-- and how true to repetition (SEE chapter Men are like rubber bands a la Men are from Mars...) he communicates his need for space.

He's a dude. This is how they roll. They get close to you, then they need to pull away so they can feel like strong, independent heroes not clingy, needy emotional man babies.
It's cool. It's even a good thing.
I'm a savvy enough woman to finally understand this.

But I was telling my mom how there were so many years where I'd get my feelings hurt if I felt the guy I liked was pulling away.

Well that's because of what happened when you were dating Mason, my mother reminded me.
What do you mean? I asked.
When he distanced himself from you and started seeing a counselor and you got worried about your relationship and you said you thought the counselor would tell him to break up with you.
Silence on my end.
And then you called me one time in hysterics because he did break up with you.
More silence on my end.
You don't remember that??!!?

Uhh....No.
Not in the slightest.

Once again, I give thanks for mother and her abillity to recall every detail of my life, even the details I'm certain she's making up.

I think that because he was your first love and the first time you experienced a man you cared for withdrawing, and then he left you, there's this fear in your mind that it's gonna happen again.

Hmm. That did make sense.
Something traumatic happens and then we associate anything similar to that experience.

I get you.

But I'm not that nineteen year old girl anymore.
And my faith is strong enough now to trust if God wanted anything to be different today, it would be different today.
And now I think I've realized how valuable space is.
I need space just as much as the boys do.
I love my time alone, to write, to read, to miss them.
To hopefully, be missed in return.

Doesn't it feel incredible anticipating when you'll get to see that someone again?
It's this delicious building of energy, wondering what surprises may turn up around life's corners, what unexpected invitations might be offered, which stars might finally be walked under.

It's intoxicating.
This stuff that is life.
And I revel in every fraction of it.
Even the parts I'm still learning to love.