It Seems I've Turned a Corner

Migrated from LiveJournal / Dreamwidth

Mind you, I've thought that before. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say I've completed another stage.

But something's shifted.

I've moved more fully into acceptance, even embracing, of being alone. I like my life and my lifestyle. I like my home, and somehow I seem to fill it now without any need for company — other than my dear old black cat, who has adapted too. We are very content with each other, and have evolved new routines that suit our new circumstances.

I have a nice balance between my lovely, solitary, introverted activities at home — reading and writing, mostly — and socialising with my friends outside the home (and sometimes in it, too).

It's also nice that I live in a small town, where I've been for 20-odd years, so it's hard to walk down the street without seeing at least one or two people I know. That might involve a chat, a hug, or just a smile in passing. Whatever, it sure doesn't let one feel isolated or unloved! And walking into some shops and cafés, similarly, means encountering people I know as friends.

I have no family here, and sometimes think that when I am older, perhaps I should move closer to them. But while I'm still able to be independent, this is a good place for me.

I was quite sick recently, for  a number of weeks, first with shingles then flu as well. I had to miss the market which augments my income — after missing several previous ones for other reasons. I asked my medical intuitive friend (who facetiously calls himself Da Wizard) if the Universe was sending me a message about not doing the markets any more.

He thought about it, then said, 'No, it doesn't seem to be permanent; but you need a rest right now. There's some more development ahead for you, more gifts to come in — but you're not quite ready yet. You haven't got over wanting Andrew to still be with you.'

(I knew that last bit was true. I think I discouraged Mr J, whom I believed was the great new male friend predicted for me. He told a story about saying to another Scorpio he met that, both being Scorps, they should become great friends. He may or may not have been dropping a hint, but I almost immediately started talking about how my cat, Levi, was my Significant Other. Some little time later I had to send Mr J an email about something we were both involved in. His reply was polite enough, but somewhat cool and curt. Since then, I haven't heard a word. But I had a dream which made it perfectly clear to me that I'd discouraged him subconsciously-on-purpose because I still wasn't ready to move on from Andrew.)

Da Wizard advised me to resume meditating — which had lapsed almost unnoticed, as these good habits tend to do — so as to help myself progress faster.

So I did, and I rested, and I gradually got well. And then I noticed that the shift had happened.

I still think of Andrew, still talk to him, am still thankful every day that we married each other and had as long together as we did, and such a great life together ... but I'm OK now with my life being as it is now. I feel not only self-reliant but quite happy. Somehow life did go on, as we are always told it will, and has become enjoyable in its own right.

I am where I wanted to be, and aimed to be, after he died — thoroughly enjoying my own company.

(I still feel a teeny bit disloyal, even while knowing that's irrational, and that he wouldn't want me to ... but not very much.)

If it's true that I have some more development to come — and I have much respect for the accuracy of Da Wizard's insights — then it is probably too soon for me to get involved, platonically or otherwise, with another bloke anyhow. So it is just as well that, at the moment, I feel perfectly self-sufficient.

One True Love or Many?

A friend regrets that she has not yet experienced a lasting love, one that would have engaged her whole mind, heart and body forever after. I am surprised because to me this seems a most loving woman! I would say she IS love. And she has certainly experienced loves with whom she's no longer together.

It hits me at last what a sad fate that would be, which she dreams of – to have loved only once, even if forever. Yet we have all had that dream of the ultimate Soul Mate, the Perfect Match. Certainly no-one has nourished that romantic fantasy more than I did for much of my life.

I adore being in love, and the thrills of passion (yes, even now!). But, as we learn, love evolves beyond that 'first fine careless rapture'. I also appreciate the great adventure of marriage, working out the puzzle of how to continue in love through the day-to-dayness, the petty things about both parties, the intrusion of life's practical problems, all that. I've had one very short marriage followed by two long ones, and of course they have encompassed all sorts of emotions and many different phases of relationship. Some of those are downright awful while they last! I've always liked the story of the elderly, long-married couple who were asked if they'd ever considered divorce. One of them, and it doesn't matter which, said, 'No, never. But' (with a wink) 'often murder.'

Two of my marriages did end in divorce; one's still going despite some occasional shaky moments. I know now that the first, very brief one wasn't founded on love but on the idea of love. We were 'playing house' and the toy building blocks soon collapsed, sadly but inevitably. (The fact that he turned out to be a seriously compulsive gambler didn't help!) But the others were love matches for sure. And then there were all the loves before and between the marriages, and even during.

I'm an absolute sucker for a handsome face and a delectable form, but lasting love demands more than that. I've had my share of one night stands, unsuitable suitors, and brief dalliances that soon fizzled out for lack of common interests. I'm not counting them here; I'm talking about the real loves. I'm a deep, serious Scorpio, no good at flirting but absolutely into grand passion and soul connection. Yes, the sex had better be good – and so had the mental and spiritual rapport. Give me 'the marriage of true minds' every time!

Luckily for me there have been several. Sometimes that got a bit tragic, when things weren't destined to be permanent – more so when people died – but my memories of all my true loves are warm and lasting. (Even when sexual consummation wasn't included – though that was rare.)

'Love forever' I wrote to John, whom for a long time I regarded as the great love of my life.

'Forever is a long time to love,' he wrote back. 'How about, Love – as long as you're still the person you are today.'

He died young and suddenly, a few months later. So, although I am not the person I was then, 26 years ago, he stayed forever the person he was, and – for that or whatever reason – I've loved him this long at least.

And yes, the love has changed. At that time I thought I would have thrown myself into a fire if it could have saved his life. It couldn't, so that was never tested. The longing for his lost physical presence went on for many years, and I still quicken to the thought. And yet, in a way I am looking back affectionately at a younger me as well as him. Once I dreaded all the years I must live, in which he would still be dead; now I am glad to have lived long enough to fall in love a few more times, and to be unable to say any more that that love surpasses all others.

And there were others before him, too, whom I recall fondly. If I'm not 'in love' with them any more as I was years ago, still I enjoy that feeling of tenderness towards the people they, and I, used to be; and those who are left alive I wish very well. (Four, including both my former husbands, are dead.)

Whether things turned out well or ill, as I viewed it at the time, I see now how each lover gave me something special and taught me more about loving. I had so much to learn!

I used to say, 'Every woman deserves one bastard' – on the theory that they can give us our greatest lessons if we choose to learn. But now that I look back, I don't see any real bastards in my own love life, just human beings.

I have to say, I've been well and truly loved, and that matters to me. I begin to understand that it matters even more that I become able to love others well and truly. In any aspect of life, it's good to have something to grow into.

It's taken me this long to finally understand, not intellectually but by experience, that love isn't a pie! It's not that if I give a slice to X there'll be less left over for Y; quite the opposite. Love grows with being given, so the more I give the more I have to give. You've heard this before, I'm sure. I had! It's something else again to fully experience it.

Now I'm at last coming to a place of unconditional, non-possessive love. That's a hard thing to summon up, in the throes of romantic passion. But in the end it's the kind of love most worth cultivating. We find it in our friendships and some of our family relationships, if we're lucky. I'm glad to say that I'm discovering it can certainly apply in one's romantic life as well.