A Divided Heart

I'm going to dinner with a friend tomorrow night.  Actually, I'm taking her out to dinner.  To celebrate.  Her engagement.

Even just thinking about it makes me a little tired.  Don't get me wrong, she's a good friend, and I love spending an evening with her whenever I can get a chance.  But tomorrow night is going to be an endless game I play with myself and my divided heart.

I love her.
I am so happy for her.
I want to be her.

None of us are strangers to jealousy.  If you say you've never felt that deep stomach twinge, you're a liar.  Even the kindest, most humble people have had those moments of "Why me?"  
It's natural.  But it's so dark.

I miss the man I love.  He's been away for a long time, and each day seems a little harder to swallow when I stop to think of it.  I hate each and every mile between us, I hate the circumstances that keep him away, I hate the knowledge that even if he were here, there would still be struggles to overcome and difficulties to face.

I love my friend.  I feel blessed to have her living near me for the time being, that I can be a part of stories she will tell to loved ones in years to come.  But I want to cry and rage and stamp my feet and scream that no one can be happy until I can be happy.

The dark and the light, they live in two places in my heart.  The light is for everyone.  The light is what shines when you run into acquaintances in the gym or when the cashier asks how you're doing today.  The darkness isn't for everyone or every time or everywhere.  The darkness isn't even always for those who would normally take it.  I've shared my dark heart with my friend before, spilling out sadness and anger and doubt about my love, my job, my home.  But I won't lay my darkness about her marriage at her feet.  Does she know?  Oh, I'm sure she knows.  I'm sure she can get 4 from 2 + 2 and knows that my loneliness and yearning make it hard to hold a smile, but I won't tell her that.  She doesn't deserve my darkness in her light.

I'll tell you, though.  I'll tell other dear friends, and I'll even tell myself.  I won't let the darkness fester in dark corners alone, I'll bring it out into my consciousness, out into the world, where light and love can shine and make it a little less dark when I tuck it away again to celebrate with her.

Numb

I started my morning off with a cruise through Facebook, like I usually do.  I stopped on a specific post, a longer one, because I knew whatever was said by this person would catch in my heart.

"I think when there is no end in sight or no date to return God puts a sort of numbness on me so I don't feel the entire pain of missing him."

I certainly understand that.

The author of the post was talking about the child she hopes to adopt, who is on another continent, and though I'm not adopting, I know that kind of numbness.

I haven't seen my SO in almost two years.  I know most people think that's crazy and ridiculous, and I'm not here to justify my relationship to the world.  He and I have lives that don't give much right now, and so we struggle to find time to be in the same timezone.

People always say long distance relationships don't work.  Sometimes that's true.  I've said before, distance is tough.  I think one of the hardest things about being away from your loved one is not having all of the little daily reminders of why you love them.  He's not there to stop and grab flowers before a date, or pick up your favorite orange juice before you spend the night, or help you rearrange the furniture without complaining.  Your love, in a way, has to perpetuate itself.

Being lonely for someone gnaws at you.  But when that person is gone every day, it can't gnaw all the time.  You can't spend every waking moment pining.  You have to have fun, to enjoy days without him, and to be content without him sometimes.  It's healthy.

Those moments, though, are when I think people start to question their LDR.  "If I'm fine without him, why are we together?"

That question is a liar.

You have to be fine without him.  Even if you were married and together every day, you'd have to be okay being separated.  If you weren't, that would certainly be a sign of an unhealthy dependence.  Surviving and thriving while separated doesn't mean you don't love your partner, it means you love yourself and your relationship enough to be strong, to build toward better things, to work to build a life where you can be together.

Two days ago was my love's birthday.  Because of his job, I didn't even get to call him on his birthday.  It sucked.  I thought all day of how I would celebrate him if we were together.  At the same time, I went to work, made dinner for one, and never let myself cry because the last thing I wanted to do on his birthday was bring him down by piling my sadness on top of his.

Being numb is sometimes the only way to cope.

Surviving Long Distance

Pinterest is one of my favorite places, certainly.  For someone like me, who loves to bake and craft and frequently needs to surf endless funny pictures on my phone in order to fall asleep, Pinterest can be such an interesting place of discovery.  And it is a great place for bloggers.  You can link your articles there, and with the right keywords, people from across the world may find themselves in your writings.

But sometimes Pinterest (and bloggers) get it wrong.

Stuff about long-distance relationships always comes up on targeted pages for me.  It's not a surprise, I've been in an LDR for about 3-1/2 years now, and I read, write, and talk about it a lot.  People blog about LDR a lot, which isn't surprising.  In the world we live in, where technology connects every corner, where the job market is what you make of it, where finances control so many decisions, a vast number of couples find themselves separated by distance for a least a little while.  And what most bloggers want you to believe is that there is some kind of recipe for surviving being apart, because that is what readers are looking for.  Couples who suddenly end up launched into the crazy mess of "how do we behave apart?" are looking for answers and methodologies and testimonials that show you exactly how to survive.

That's crap.

All of those articles are basically going to tell you the same things - don't rely on texting, Skype x number of times per month, include each other in decisions, be 100% honest, countdown to the next time you'll see each other, etc., etc.  None of these posts understand individuality, though.  None of them will tell you how awkward timezone transitions play in, how having a job that isn't M-F 9-5 can totally mess with together time, and how sometimes you just won't have a clue when you will be together again.

I haven't had a phone call from my other half in over a month.  We haven't Skyped since 2012.  I haven't seen him in about 18 months, and I couldn't even hazard a guess as to when I will see him again.  Sometimes we've both told white lies and had to apologize for them.  Sometimes we've had misunderstandings and screaming matches and angry silences and had to fight our way back from them.  Even with all that, though, we are still 3-1/2 years strong and committed to staying strong. And therein lies the secret.  The only thing that will get you through a long-distance relationship is wanting to.  It doesn't matter how "good" you are together or what your work/financial life is like or which timezones you inhabit.  If you are both committed and connected and try to be there for the other person as best you can, you will make it through to the other side.  You will be battered and bruised, yes, but you will be tougher as well.

Stay strong, all you long-distance lovers.