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.

Distance

I have a lot of perspective on distance.

I think of distance differently, having grown up in a rural area.  When I was growing up, there was no running down the street to play with a friend.  You didn't just run into town when you were craving some Milk Duds, and making sure there was milk for breakfast required strategic planning because you could drive for twenty miles and not necessarily pass a grocery store.  And all of this was fine, normal.  Moving to college was the first time I'd ever lived in town, and I was the girl who frequently forgot to close the blinds before changing and was confused by the monthly test of the tornado siren.

If you've ever been anywhere near Minnesota, you'll know that distance is measured in minutes, not miles.  The next town is fifteen minutes away, the nearest (insert store) is a half-hour drive, and every college student live (insert hours) away from home.  We think of distance in the time we'll take out of our day and weigh the destination versus the worth of our time.

But distance is so much bigger and smaller than that.

Junior year of college, I started a relationship with a man who lived twelve hours away.  College was the first time I'd ever really been separated from people I loved, but it always had a deadline.  "I'll see you over fall break/Christmas/Easter."  That's not the way long-distance romantic relationships work.  I went 21 months without seeing my guy, and I got plenty of near-misses and disappointments.

My best friend leaves the continent in six days, just three days before my birthday.  It's the second time she leaves North America in a year, but this time, no one knows when she'll be home.  London is a long way from Minnesota, not that she was close to me when she was at home in Montana.  I know we're both going to have days where we suck at staying in touch, when we don't have the energy to communicate, where it just seems so difficult to stay close so far.  I've felt it all before, but every time, it's new.

Every mile is a pound of effort.  My daily life would not be possible with out cell phones, texting, and Skype.  I struggle with emotions that some people have been blessed never to experience, and some days they make it nearly impossible to crawl out of bed.  But the moments - the hello moments, the I-missed-you moments, the finally-able-to-touch moments - they are sweeter than any emotion you've ever felt.  Saying goodbye makes saying hello twice as sweet.  Every mile is a confused blessing.