proper courting

Maybe it's maturity. Maybe it's the cataloging of my experiences. What does it say about me- How much I'm surprised by feeling this way?

I have to give myself permission for the mistakes of my past. Allowing for one suitor, and then another, and another to not live up to what I wanted, very possibly needed. Letting the people I loved, or thought I loved to treat me as less than- ever. To fetishize me, pigeonhole me. Not support me in my dreams, the way I supported them in theirs. Giving myself away, for a chance at someone I was afraid I might never have. Instead breaking my own heart over and over again.

How is it someone I haven't known long makes me feel safe? Safe to feel, safe to express myself. To sit in my sadness, and not try to fix me. Because I'm not broken. Neither are they. Their quiet support, their nonjudgemental demeanor- part of me is sad I'm so surprised. Surprised they exist.

This isn't me putting them on a pedestal. Far from it, actually. I think it's seeing clearly- both them and me. Standing in my truth, and not feeling afraid. It's simple- saying what they mean. Meaning what they say. Not pouring honey in my ear, to no ones benefit. Listening to me. Taking in stride my curiosity, an inquisitiveness born from wanting to know them better. Showing me their flaws, and commiserating with me over mine. Asking me questions- no one asks me questions. Partly my fault, but still. They don't let me avoid them.

I'm thankful for each tryst, each quiet moment laying on the couch, or cuddling up next to them. Waking up to them making fun of my sleep noises, because I know it isn't born from malice. Them looking at me through one eye, because they aren't awake yet either.

I didn't know. I didn't know what proper courting was. I didn't know I could feel so free, to just sit in this skin. Built as I'm built. To feel wanted this way. I hope they know, it's mutual.

It's a lung qi kind of feeling.

I cried as I went over my notes.

Tears running down my face, as I repeatedly wrote out page after page in short hand, to help myself memorize it all. I don't remember things the way I used to. Beethoven playing in the background, drowning out unwanted sounds.

I was asked today why I felt such a strong need to go back to school again. I had my cookie cutter answers ready. The ones people expect to hear. Just adding more tools to my practice, life long student, making sure I have job security. Of course I'm loving it. These answers only contain a grain of truth.

The deeper truth is twofold- I know I need to be able to stand on my own two feet. I can never, nor should I expect anyone to take care of me. If anything has been reinforced over and over for me is- no one will come in riding on their snow white steed to sweep me off my feet, and take care of me. Not emotionally, not financially. So I build myself up again and again, finding more and more ways to shore up an almost unwanted independence. In truth, it's not even that I want to be saved. Maybe knowing there's someone who just wants to. Who wants to "save"me, but will never really need to.

Secondly, I don't think there will be a day I trust my own intelligence. I will never be smart enough. Enough, enough. So I strive for more and more information to force into my brain. Maybe, just maybe I can know enough to feel like I'm not lagging behind in some way.

So I cry while I study. I hit my pillow exhausted at night, oftentimes not to sleep well. Fitfully turning over and over in my sleep. I've been told I twist and turn, making small noises with every movement.

It's not for lack of interest in the information. Of course I'm picking things I find fascinating. Things hopefully stimulating enough that I can lie to myself a bit- you're doing this just because you're passionate. That of course is such a small percentage of what drives me.

I imagine this won't be the last time I cry through my studies. Here's hoping for different reasons.