Release

Is it really possible? This feeling of freedom can't be attributed to his absence, can it?

Two nights ago, we went out to dinner. We talked, we laughed, we teased... it was like we were back at SPU grabbing dinner on a weeknight. Then, we hugged and said goodbye. He said, "Don't have too much fun," I said something in return, and then I walked to my car and left. For that next half-hour, I choked down panicky sobs and struggled to see the road before me. I almost turned the car around to return to his house and ask for one more hug. But then, I calmed down and felt peaceful somehow, and the rest of the drive I was fine.

I feel so lighthearted and calm. So worry-free. So NOT SAD when I think about him and my many memories of him. I know three things for a fact: I still love him deeply, I still have very strong feelings for him, and I will still miss him. But now, I've found I can have peace of mind and sanity in addition to those three things. It's all about self-control and not allowing myself to remain stuck in that all-too-familiar rut of an aching heart.

I think of him, and I smile. This is truly a milestone. Now, let's just hope this milestone chooses to remain permanent.

All the world is before me

This is truly a strange time in my life. Everything's happening and nothing's happening. On one hand, I go to World Vision Monday through Friday and monotonously open/sort mail. Hardly my dream job, but it's tolerable when I make conversation with my friend, Hannah, who sits next to me. On the other hand, I'm planning--rather frenziedly--a trip to Europe with my friend, Karen, and scrambling to turn in my grad school applications on time. I'm emailing dozens of people a week, researching European cities and landmarks, and trying to save every last cent rather than spend it on food, clothing, and entertainment. In the meantime, I wait anxiously for Brett to contact me. Every day that passes with no news is getting increasingly more painful. I wonder if he'll even bother to say goodbye to me. I sobbed my eyes out today for about a half-hour. I'm talking gut-wrenching, ragged, death-worthy sobs. He has such a hold on me. It's not fair.

What is love?

He and I talked on the phone the other day. He's "this close" to getting a job near Chicago, teaching preschool by day and maintaining order in a dorm of middle-school boys by night.

Whenever I tell my friends that I love him, they ask me if it's the "real" kind of love, the kind that goes beyond feelings and emotions and becomes something deeper, more lasting, selfless. I always say yes, because, as cliche as it might sound, all I really want is to see him happy and content. If he's meant to be happy and content with me, then it will happen. If he's meant to be happy and content with someone else, someone better suited for him, then I can be happy and content too, knowing that he's with someone he loves who loves him in return.

So... back to our conversation. As we talked and as he told me more details about this job, I felt excitement and anticipation welling within me, as if it were ME road-tripping to Illinois, ME teaching adorable preschoolers, ME making the adventurous and gutsy decision to leave everything I know and be on my own in a new state. Strange, right? I mean, this is my first love we're talking about, the man I am madly in love with, the man I'll potentially never see again. I should be weeping uncontrollably at the thought of his departure.

I went to coffee with a friend a few weeks ago, and she said something very simple but oh so true. Two people can love each other and not be right for each other. That's it. That's all she said. But it brought me comfort.

So, yes, I still suppress romantic feelings for him, I still try to dislodge thoughts of him from my brain, I'm still mildly terrified at the thought of my life without him. No more late night theological conversations, no more driving to Fred Meyer just to be with him, no more anything with him. I think of his smile and a twinge of sadness grips me for a few seconds. I remember the way it felt to throw my arms around his neck and feel his arms encircle my waist in a tender hug. I think of these things and my heart grows heavy momentarily.

He says he loves me. I know I love him. The rest is circumstantial and remains to be seen. But for now, I will send him off with a huge smile and a prayer and probably a few tears in the mix.


"To Make You Smile," Kari Kimmel

You're memorizing the flights, the trains, the numbers
To get you away from here
You got your suitcase all packed, don't know where your going
But you know you can't stay here
You settled into something plain
But you need more color, need more change

If you wake up, and you're happy
Baby it was worth it all
Just to see you smile
If you find out, it was crazy
Baby, I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

You got your habits, you've found your way of dealing
So do what you gotta do
Is it something you're running from
Or could there be someone else you're running too
You've got a past you cannot change
So make you're future, don't be late
Just go on your way

If you wake up, and you're happy
Baby it was worth it all
Just to see you smile
If you find out, it was crazy
Baby, I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

You're gonna find out on your own
As soon as you walk away from everything you know

If you wake up, and you're happy
Baby it was worth it all
Just to see you smile
If you find out, it was crazy
Baby, I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

If you wake up, and you're happy
Baby it was worth it all
Just to see you smile
If you find out, it was crazy
Baby, I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

Make you smile, yeah to make you smile
I'll be waiting here
Just to see you smile
Make you smile, yeah to make you smile
I'll be waiting here
Just to make you smile

Here we go again

I never knew it was possible to miss him when he's right here beside me. I see him nearly every day. We laugh, we talk, we poke, we hug, we drive... but I miss him in anticipation of missing him. We'll graduate, he'll leave, and I'll still be here in Seattle, missing a huge part of me.

Neverending

There is an ache inside of me. It's difficult to explain, but so very, very real. It's the ache of rejection, of love not returned. It's the ache of unshed tears that refuse to surface. The battle between what I know is right and what I want so desperately.

Is it wrong that I can still feel his lips on my cheek, the way I felt giddy and weightless and scared all at once?
Is it wrong that I see him smile at someone and my eyes fill with tears as I remember how he used to look at me?
Is it wrong that his name is constantly in my thoughts and no matter how hard I try I can't make it go away?

Part of me hates how much I love him. I hate that I would do anything for him if only he asked me. It's so painful to feel this way and know that he doesn't return the feeling.

I have prayed and prayed about this. God has shown me the countless reasons why I shouldn't be in a relationship with him, and I am fully convinced. And yet, I still cling, cling, CLING. I cried yesterday at the thought of never seeing him again after graduation. Graduation is more than six months away. My utterly pathetic self disgusts me.

I recently decided that I'm going to channel all these unproductive, ridiculous thoughts of him into something worthwhile and meaningful. I'm going to pray for him whenever his name comes to mind. I'm going to pray that he will meet with God in a very real and life-changing way. This is the most I can do, because for whatever reason God has not seen fit to relieve me of these thoughts and feelings. I'm okay with that, though, because I know that He knows what's best for me.

It's really not worth all this

Two people who figured out that they shouldn't be together can still be friends, I believe. Just at a less intense level... more of a casual friendship, none of the soul-bearing, hugging stuff.
But then, just as I've become convinced, I remember his look, those eyes, that smile. How can I not react to those luminous brown eyes? Or that smile that always destroys all my carefully-crafted resolutions? How can I not react? Please tell me.
How can I possibly refrain from flashing him a giant smile when he looks my way? From bantering with him the way I used to, back in the day when I had the hope that we could be together? I don't know how NOT to flirt with him. Yikes.
I STILL have a long way to go. I can't believe this.

More musings about him

It's been two months. Two long, heart-healing, agonizing, tearful months since I last saw or talked to him. I have to fight the daily urge to contact him via facebook--to "poke" him, send him a quick comment, show him that I'm still alive and thinking about him.
School starts two weeks from tomorrow. The butterflies in my stomach are already going strong. What will I do when I see his handsome, sweetly familiar face for the first time in months? Part of me says that I will reservedly walk up to him and engage him in polite conversation. Another part of me says, "who are you kidding, Monica? You're going to barrel him over with an affectionate bear hug, scream, sigh, smile effusively, and barrage him with questions and exclamations." The former is excruciatingly painful to think about. I have never been one to be reserved around him; I was always exuberant and dramatic around him. Yet, the idea of hugging him and acting like nothing ever happened between us is painful in its own way. I can't pretend that we haven't been talking to each other this summer. I can't pretend that I don't still love him ardently. I can't hold back the overwhelming feelings that rush over me whenever I so much as catch a glimpse of his face. I can't--and shouldn't--try to resume the "buddy buddy" relationship we once had. Those days are over.
Now I understand why it takes people sooo long to "get over" someone they love.

What to do?

Here's my dilemma. Before he and I talked about becoming romantically involved, we were just really close friends. I enjoyed the camaraderie and the playful fun we had at each other's expense. I also really valued the meaningful talks we had about God, life, our respective futures, etc.
A lot of that lightheartedness was lost when we added the "should we date or not" question. Suddenly, everything became a lot more complicated, and stress, worry, and rapidly increasing affection for him built up until I could hardly see straight. This was no longer a simple friendship. Embarrassment, awkwardness, and confusion were now present, and it was difficult for me to relate to him in the same way. At the same time, I was incredibly excited at the thought of being his girlfriend. All of these feelings--excitement, confusion, restlessness, concern, etc.--continued through the school year (since our relationship was in a sort of limbo for months on end), and only just started dissipating a few weeks ago.
For the first time in a year, I experience feelings of calm, assurance, and--just today--contentedness when I think of him. I've come to realize that I don't want anything more than a friendship with him, due to various reasons having to do with incompatability, maturity level, and disapproval of habits. I only want to be his friend, to experience that old camaraderie without the heart-wrenching complication of romance.
However, we are technically ex-boyfriend and girlfriend. I say technically, because the time we were together was so short and inconsequential it should hardly be considered a relationship at all. Yet, the fact that we were together at all somewhat inhibits things, at least from my end. Once I've had feelings for a guy and acted on them in any way, even for a short time, it's incredibly difficult for me to take a step backward and resume a non-romantic, casual friendship. A few months ago, I would have said that my love for him was what prevented me from doing that, but now I realize that is not true at all. I love him dearly, but if romantic feelings for him were entirely absent, I could easily remain friends with him and nothing more, despite the fact that I love him. I just wouldn't like him like that. Oh how I wish that were true.
But I see no way to accomplish that. His smile will always make my knees weak at least a little, his laugh will always enchant me, and his touch, however slight, will never cease to send shivers down my spine. That's just the way it is. The most I can do is pray unceasingly that God will free me of my feelings for him.

One of those days

I feel like screaming into the rafters until my throat hurts. Except there are no rafters to speak of, so I suppose the plain white ceiling will have to suffice.

Just when I think I'm actually moving on--getting over him, healing, whatever you want to call it--I am proven wrong. Very, very wrong.

My family and I went to a Seahawks preseason game this evening. Football is his favorite sport, so I was already feeling a little blue about the whole thing. But then I found out that the Seahawks' opponents were the Minnesota Vikings. Double whammy. He loves the Vikings. My mind reverted to the last time I had gone to a Seahawks vs. Vikings game. He was with me. He sat next to me the whole time, and his enthusiasm was contagious. I discovered that I actually like watching football when I'm with someone who loves the game.

I sat in my season pass, fold-out seat and hardly watched the game. Caught up in remembering, I felt like crying, but knew I would look a tad ridiculous. Football is a happy sport after all. At least, it is when you're not bent on mourning the loss of someone special.

My sadness lingered as we left the stadium and maneuvered through the streets of Seattle to get to our car. I kept imagining what I would do if I saw him walking on one of the sidewalks. Would my heart beat painfully and my face flush brightly as I walked up to say hello? Would I unthinkingly rush up to him and throw my arms around his neck? Would I do nothing but stare, unable to comprehend that he is living and breathing and standing so near to me? Truthfully, I have no answer.

Yes, I miss him. Desperately. But I'm getting to a point where I'm sick of missing him. I don't want to miss someone who doesn't miss me. I want to go about my daily life without his name entering my brain even once. Occasional remembrances are fine, but thoughts of him every ten minutes are getting old.

I have a hard time understanding why I am so utterly devoted to him, when he has done almost nothing to deserve that devotion. Yes, he demonstrated tenderness and an ability to give incredible hugs that made me melt. He graciously shared deep, painful things with me, and I reciprocated to some extent. But, do these things warrant this fierce adoration I have for him? No. This is why I know he and I will not end up together. I want to adore the love of my life because I can see the love of Christ shining out from his eyes, not because I feel good when he and I touch or because we have amazing discussions. Those are important too, but not as important as seeing Christ in him.

There were moments where I could see Christ in him, but more often I saw despair, pessimism, apathy, and other things that did nothing but depress and inhibit me. I can't live like that. I'm only just now breaking free from that pattern, and I feel as if the old me is finally re-emerging.

I've found that there is an unquestionable sense of rightness in our relationship ending. Despite that peace, I miss him with an intensity that frequently leaves me in tears. I guess there's nothing abnormal about that.

*Sigh*

He tells me it "feels so right"
and I fall for it.
He tells me that he has realized
how much he truly loves me
and I fall for it.
He tells me I have nearly
all the qualities he has ever wanted
in a wife
and I fall for it.
His earnest, hopeful face gazing at me,
how can I say no?
I know that face so well
and love him so deeply.
Thrusting aside all misgivings--
serious and urgent though they are--
I smile tenderly at him
and agree to become his girlfriend.

A few weeks down the road,
it is he who has the misgivings.
Doubts, he calls them,
and they are strong enough
for him to call off the relationship.
I cry myself to sleep,
relieved that he did the severing
but crushed that I have lost a dear friend.

I can hear his laugh so clearly,
his lips lightly brush my cheek.
His head rests on mine,
and his arms warmly enfold me.
Memories flood my mind
and I cannot escape them
though I try to with all my might.

The summer months are healing me
and his face starts to fade.
I think of him less and less
though still far more than anyone else.
I have decided that
he is someone I could never marry.
A far cry from how I felt a year ago.
And yet, I still adore him.
With all my heart, I love him,
his mannerisms, his hobbies,
his smile, his sensitivity.
And I realize I have a long way to go
before I can truly say he is
haunting me no more.

Realizations

I never understood
what was meant by
"when he's happy, I'm happy"
or
"when he's sad, I'm sad"

But, oh how I comprehend it now.
Perhaps more than I ever wanted to.

His frown makes me want to cry.
Either that, or I must find a way to make it better.
Now.
If I can't make it better,
I join him helplessly in his melancholy.

His smile.
Infectious, endearing, hypnotizing, vibrant.
Better than a thousand brilliant sunrises.
All disappointments of my day are gone.
And I am undeniably happy in that moment.

I never understood
how one could
drown in one's tears.

Now I do.
Because I have.

They come like torrential downpours.
They hover at the corners of my eyes
threatening to spill over at the slightest provocation.
A word, a song, a picture, that familiar voice,
all equally painful, equally debilitating.
For weeks, my cheeks are delicate and raw
irritated at the constant flow of salty tears
and incessant dabbing of tissues.
Is it possible to be on the verge of tears
for months on end?

Impulsive Entry #1

Why do I have to love him so much? I ask myself this question daily. A few months ago, I always asked it while sobbing uncontrollably, heartbroken that my friendship with him can never be the same again. Now, I ask it with dry eyes and a mournful grimace, missing him more than I want to admit and wishing I could just move on.

I find myself mourning the loss of his friendship, and then I doubt that I ever really had it at all. Sure, I told him all about my day and the hilarious or awkward things that happened to me, but he almost never reciprocated. I would talk and talk and talk and my incessant chatter would be met by his bemused smile that always affected me so. But half the time, when I ceased talking I was met with... silence. He didn't have much to say to me, or if he did, it was inevitably about how crappy the SPU music department was or how he was exhausted from getting too little sleep. Two topics that I was very familiar with by the end of the year, thanks to him.

But then I think of all the other conversations he and I had. The ones about majoring in theology, and how we both wouldn't consider that as our major because learning dry facts about God and the Bible would only serve to harden our hearts to a true, intimate relationship with Jesus Christ. Or the ones where we discussed how we hoped to raise our kids. Or those lively conversations where we would alternately debate over and agree about certain theological doctrines that had been discussed in my theology class. All these conversations, more than anything else, are what led me to love him, because I saw his heart for the Word and for living a conscientious, godly life.

Being his friend stretched me in ways I had never been stretched before. I matured and grew spiritually more significantly in the past year than in my whole entire life, I think. And of course I don't attribute it solely to him; I know that God works through people and relationships to teach his children lessons. And maybe I just need to realize that most of all. That God used him at a specific time in my life, and that time has expired. It's over. God wants me to take what I've learned and use it in new situations, with new people, in new relationships.

I'm trying to do it, and it's slowly happening, but it's hard. I'm too prone to looking longingly at last year and wishing that I could enjoy that same camaraderie with him in this coming year, minus the awkward, ill-timed romantic aspect of it all. And who knows, maybe I can, but I highly doubt it. I've heard it said that once a friendship progresses to a romantic relationship, it's not possible to revert back to what you had before. Perhaps that's not true in all cases, but it's certainly true--on my end--in this case. I just need to accept that and get over it. Stop mourning someone who is no longer a part of my life to the extent that he once was.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."

Every girl goes through this time in her life, when marriage is suddenly on her mind and to think of it is nervewracking and more than a little scary. Two friends of mine got married this summer. Not two of my best friends, just two good friends, but nevertheless I was slightly uneasy as I watched them say their vows and marry the loves of their lives. That could be me in a few years.

My dad traveled extensively in Europe before dating and marrying my mom. While he was traveling abroad, he sent my mom letters (they had been friends in college), claiming that he just wanted someone to talk to, that she should regard their relationship as strictly a friendship. He even asked her in one of his letters if she had a boyfriend, intending to congratulate her if that was the case. She didn't have one and was in fact starting to grow very attached to my dad, but she didn't tell him that. He kept sending her letters over the next few months, and hilariously, he sent her a fake love note that arrived at her doorstep on Valentine's Day. When he got back from Europe, they started dating, and got married within a few months.

Every time I look at my mom's scrapbook of the letters she received from my dad, I get this crazy longing to have a similar story. For one, I love receiving letters in the mail. Email is great and certainly very convenient, but it just doesn't have that same feel to it as a letter does.

Secondly, I would love to marry someone who is as adventurous and free-spirited as my dad. Someone who isn't afraid to do the out-of-the-ordinary, the things that might make people raise their eyebrows in a quizzical expression. A few examples: he wants to build a putting green on our porch that overlooks the road; he wants to buy a sailboat and sail it in random parts of the world; he started a nonprofit organization that anonymously donates money to people struggling with cancer. If I sat here longer, I could come up with more things. Basically, he's just unpredictable in a very stable way, and I love that about him.

I now have a better understanding of what I need in my future husband. It's great to finally have some clarity about that. I've realized in the past year that I want someone very much like my dad, with a few other traits thrown in that my dad might have but doesn't strongly exhibit.

For instance, I have realized that I absolutely must marry someone who is optimistic. I'm optimistic and idealistic by nature, but I've found that when I'm around people who are negative I take on a lot of that negativity. I don't like who I am when I'm negative, so I'd rather marry someone who is optimistic and happy-go-lucky.

Also, as I said before, I'd love to marry someone who is spontaneous and fun and suggests that he and I go on random "adventures." Someone who is humorous and can make me laugh easily is a huge one.

I'm one who is easily swayed by someone's words. If they can speak eloquently and with conviction, I all too easily believe everything they say and believe that they live it out. Well, that's not always true, so I need to marry someone who--for the most part--does what he says he'll do and acts on his convictions/beliefs. I say "for the most part" because I realize that we all struggle with following through with what we say.

I want to marry someone who I can be friends with first and foremost. Someone who I find it incredibly easy to relate to and carry a conversation with. Recently, I've observed a lot of older couples and the thing that is most apparent to me in their relationship is the strong bond of friendship they enjoy. They aren't as "in love" and passionate as they used to be, but they still very much enjoy each other's company and love each other more deeply than they did decades ago because of everything they've been through together. I want to marry someone who will take an active interest in my interests/hobbies and who will let me do the same for him. I want to marry a best friend, the person I would call up to tell petty everyday things, things that don't even matter in the long run but that are part of my life nonetheless.

I also desperately want honesty and vulnerability with my husband. Not to the point of telling each other every teensy-weensy struggle/concern he or I might have, but just as a daily practice to be open and real with each other.

Selflessness is another huge "must have" for me. Obviously, we all struggle with self-centeredness, and I don't expect the man I marry to be "superhuman" in this area at all. An evident effort to be selfless is good enough for me. And, likewise, I will try to be selfless.

In the past year, I've realized how much a marriage is like a friendship. It's just a more permanent, more lasting, deeper, more intimate bond than the average friendship. But, really, almost all of the major aspects of a marriage are based on friendship. And that's comforting to me for some reason. Maybe because I know that I can be a good friend. I can be there for someone, pray for him, talk to him, be silent with him, reassure him, laugh with him, praise God with him.

Suddenly, the idea of marriage isn't looking nearly as scary as it was a few minutes ago.