The past 2 days have been pretty snow-nley for me. I do enjoy my own company; if I didn't, I'd have other things to be concerned about. At the same time, there are only so many movies to watch, snacks to eat, and books to read.
This weekend is a long weekend and it also happens to be the weekend of Valentines Day, so I have to admit that I was already sort of dreading it before the snow came.
After being snowed in and alone for more than 48 hours, I am genuinely excited about the human interaction that is going to happen tomorrow when I go to the gym and take myself out to celebrate the day.
I have had a lot of time to think about the decision I made last Friday to cut off all contact with someone I'll freely admit even now I love. There have been times in the past couple of days when I have wanted to call him, to hear his voice, to know that he's ok.
But I have maintained self-control. His number is still blocked in my phone and I haven't tried to look him up online. It's important to me that I don't treat the relationship I had with him in the same manner he treated the one he had with me-- like something to do.
When we met, he was in a different place in his life, one where he needed encouragement and love to help push him toward the goals that he had for himself. You might even say that he was in a period of transition. He was learning to become content with himself and his life as a single civilian who was starting over in a lot of respects. He was learning to listen to God's call for him and becoming comfortable with following his heart.
From what I saw, he was experiencing a period of loneliness and our companionship helped bring him through that.
I was always there. In the morning when he woke. All day. At night when he went to sleep. In the middle of the night/early morning when he couldn't sleep. I was always there.
Our constant contact, the discussions of our pasts, the similarities in our lives brought us together. They kept us coming back to each other even after he would do things to hurt me, try to push me away, or find relationships with other women.
When he moved into New York City last month, he tapped into a happiness I had never seen in him. I was so proud of the changes I saw--he was back near his family roots; professional opportunities were opening up; and he had found a church community in which. he wanted to immerse himself. He was so happy.
I was so happy for him.
But I also felt him shutting me out. I had to contact him to get him to stay in touch with me, and he only seemed to want to talk late at night when he was alone and needed someone.
I knew he had decided to start sharing his confidences, his feelings, and his spiritual journey with another woman-- someone who had been in the picture before. I guess she never left.
I felt, and I still do, like she was getting the best of him and I was getting what was left over when he felt like it.
In a lot of ways, he was treating her like the girl he wanted to bring home to mom (even introducing her to his sister on Facebook) and me like the "other woman" who he knew he never had any intent to keep in his life, but who was always there when he needed not to be alone.
I don't want to be any man's cure for loneliness or anecdote for boredom. That's not love, that's convenience.
And so when I felt myself missing him yesterday , I was careful not to try to contact him. Because I was lonely. And I never want my relationship with any person to be a cure for loneliness.
The cure for feeling alone has to come from within me. Sure, the people I love can be my sounding boards, give me advice , be there for me when I feel as though I can't even be there for myself. But they can't fill me up. Nor should I expect them to do so.
That feeling of fullness has to come from my relationship with God. Off and on the past two days, the lyrics to the song "You Are My All In All" have popped into my head.
"When I am down, You pick me up. When I am dry, You fill my cup. You are my All in All."
If I lean on God to fill my cup, it will never be empty. I will never be disappointed. He will never let me down. He will be there no matter the circumstances in my life, and He will put me first, even when I don't put Him first.
Leaning on any person, I do not have the same assurance. But God--He is always there. In the morning when I wake up. All day. At night/in the middle of the night when I can't sleep. He is always there.
Our relationship is never a matter of convenience with God. God loves us because He wants us to follow Him. He doesn't need us. He's God. But He wants us, because He loves us.
Knowing this, I try to treat my relationships with those I love in the same manner--being there for them unconditionally, even when it doesn't benefit me, and loving them with the love of God.
Another person is never a convenience for me; never a cure for my loneliness; never a piece to fill a void.
I have learned from my recent experiences the difference between loving someone because you feel you need them; and loving someone because you genuinely want them there.
Do I love this man genuinely because I want him in my life?
Yes.
But if my love for him is rooted in want, and his love for me is rooted in need, we're growing on opposite sides of the same tree, and our branches are never going to meet.
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