My heart and my mind are wandering in a paradox.
I cannot figure out how to end the desires of my heart when they become hurt and failure. My mind worms it's way out of reason and falls back into the trap of loving, endlessly loving.
I honestly believe that love has the power to change anything, anyone. I believe in its power to heal, to save, to persevere.
Last year I learned what it means to love unconditionally.
I've lived a life fortunate enough to have been loved well and loved by many. I was comfortable in the love of the family I have been given, the love of many friends, the love of sisters and the love of cousins who are like sisters to me. But it wasn't until last year and part of the year before that I learned what it means for me to give that love back to someone.
Being with J opened my heart to a million reasons to love. It came so naturally with him I hardly realized what was happening. He discovered within me the well of pure.love. The love that is described in Corinthians, the love that is patient and kind and does not weary and does not grow angry. This is the love that J brought out of me. This is the love that I had been collecting my whole life and had never been convinced to give back, at least not to anyone I was romantically interested in.
But my irrational emotional self of course got in the way. I have been wanting to leave Denver and Colorado for years now, ever since graduating college, and really perhaps before then. So last summer I finally decided to follow through and move to Minnesota - for a different kind of love - the love of my sister, to be near her again.
J and I hardly broached the subject of my moving - we wrote it off as something in the future that wouldn't change much and we did not know what would happen with us, so better just to enjoy each other's company presently. And then came the day - the day I packed everything I owned in a 4' by 6' metal box, got in the driver's seat with J at my side, Napoleon in the back, and began driving across country.
I hate hindsight most of the time.
The trip to Minnesota was one of the most draining and difficult experiences of my life. Not only was packing up and moving my life hard, but the journey across Nebraska and South Dakota proved to be almost impossible. We got a flat that took 3 hours to fix, so we waited in the dirt in 103 degree weather. I thought Napoleon was going to keel over. We got sunburns on a road trip. While waiting for the spare tire, my car's battery died and we had to get a jump start from another stranger. Then the road to the Badlands was closed - the whole reason for our detoured route, the longer route to Minnesota. Then we stayed in a hotel due to the delays - the hotel was expensive and awful. There was only a thin blanket that wasn't warm enough, Napoleon was scratching the carpet so I locked her in the bathroom, where she continued to keep us up all night. Then in the morning, my credit card calls asking if someone has stolen my card. S.T.R.E.S.S.F.U.L.
But being with J was beautiful and wonderful. He has such a brilliant mind and such a sensitive heart. We listened to Radiolab and cried at the power of memory and the heart's innate ability to remember when the brain has lost its memory functionality. We laughed at ourselves and at the ridiculousness of every obstacle. We ate at Burger King because I never had before. We took turns driving, J taking the most turns because it was how he could gain some control over losing me and yet still wanting to take care of me. We cried over the fear we had that I was actually leaving, yes, this was real. Every state line we passed verified that horrible reality.
The arrival in Minneapolis was bittersweet. I was so excited to see my sister and be able to spend everyday with her, living life together after 9 years of separation. But that last weekend with J was filled with strife. He was stressed and anxious. I was still naive enough to think we would be fine, that I wasn't breaking our hearts, that I wasn't wrenching us apart. We spent time with Danica's friends, we went to a zombie bar and a tiki lounge. J talked with everyone he met to figure out how life was lived in the North - could he do it? Could he find a job and sustain a life with me? Could he come back and join me?
We realized this hard decision should have been made months ago. We were drastically late on talking about it, on figuring out the details, on realizing how much we meant to the other, how much they meant to us.
How could we have been so blind, so oblivious to our love?
Regardless - now many months later, J and I are separated. My returning to Denver did not in fact heal or bridge the crevasse that had begun cracking in August, with the preparation for my move. And regardless of how much I have tried to make amends, to fix the wounds I have created, to assist J with the difficulties of his life - sometimes we have to fight our battles alone.
So now, the paradox. I love someone more than I have ever loved before. He opened the best part of me and allowed me the pleasure of being loved in return. But it isn't working. We are not helping each other these days. We both get lost when we try to journey together. I stumble down the dark path he is walking when he needs me to pull him up to the path I am on. I am the light in his life and since returning I have only tried dimming my flame so that it wouldn't blind him. Then both of us have found ourselves in the dark.
Paradox: When do I give up and let him go? or. How long do I follow my heart and keep fighting for what I love?
For now I am waiting - a self-established purgatory.
I trust that I will know when to sever. I do not believe that is now.
Everything will be alright in the end, and if it's not alright, then it's not the end.