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| Irving on the train, knowing he's been loved. |
One thing that's new is OCD therapy! I've been getting treated since November, when I realized it's not superhealthy to think that my dating life is CURSED. (I still kinda think it is!)
The way they treat OCD sometimes is exposure therapy--just leaning in to whatever awful thing that compulsions are helping me avoid/make worse. The other day, I was telling the therapist all my deepest, darkest fears of what happens if I never find love again.
I could be alive another 40 or 50 years, and I have a hard time imagining those years without this quest, this longing. I can keep looking, but I also want to make sure I'm not missing my life while I'm focused on what's missing, who's missing. I want to keep living a full and lush and vivid life, no matter who comes along.
The other day, the 22nd, it was the three year anniversary of my first date with The Shy One. I decided to do my exposure therapy by writing him a letter in my journal, not one to send. I searched up a picture of him on that night. His face was the absolute pinnacle of post-quarantine cute: soft of face and fuzzy of hair. A peaceful and satisfied smile. Beatific! And of course there were the ropes pictures, the ropes that liked him so much and went on so easily.
OF COURSE it's hard to move past the magic of that night and the subsequent messy-beautiful of my ten months with The Shy One. I hold out hope that I will some day, but it's truly taking FOREVER.
But when I started the journaling, I found myself writing about my OTHER favorite first date, with BFF-Formerly-Sweetie. I'd given her an invitation (Sesame Street themed, with glitter inside) to come to the poetry reading I hosted. She'd told me she had something to tell me after the reading, so the whole day was anticipation. It was a two- reading day, and I stopped in between poetries to have some spicy blackbean soup at a neighborhood cafe. My tummy was so nervous that I couldn't eat much. After the reading, she told me she hadn't really dated anyone before, and she wanted to try dating me. It was a dream come true.
A decade of months and a decade of years. A messy love affair and a marriage/lifelong friendship. Some people are out there searching for their best friend, and here am I calling mine 2-3 times a day.
Unlike Irving, who could only sense deep within himself that he had been loved, I was present for every moment. Yes, I was a mess, and yes it's over, but it WAS. Relationship OCD makes me doubt everything, makes me think it couldn't possibly be real, but it was nice to visit that knowing for a few journal paragraphs, and it stuck with me.
Dating is boring and vexing and not the good kind of tedious. I'm lonely and pining and frustrated a lot of the time. My hormones are changing too, making the urgency less in a way I both welcome and fear.
What I'm practicing in OCD therapy is learning to live with uncertainty, and that certainly helps. But so does the knowing that I was and am thoroughly loved.