L’Shana Tova

When you lose something important enough, it’s hard to know the extent of that loss. I knew that I would no longer hold her body close to mine. I knew that I wouldn’t get to see her continue to grow in her career, in her faith, or her friendships and family. I knew that the questions I was looking forward to answering with her would remain unanswered. All I could see were the trees.

As the cliche goes, I had lost sight of the forest; in more ways than one.

Now, I know that the grief I’ve felt is the loss of a thing I had meant to make a part of me. Now, I know what it means to lose something that I was able to love that much.

Finding my North Star

If I truly loved myself, then this relationship would receive the most of me.

I was bought in. I saw many lives with her, and I was in love with them all. Everything felt so clear. My relationship with R was what I would chose as the biggest parameter to my decisions. I had decided that the best way I could care for myself was to act in accordance with protecting the home I had hoped to build with her. That’s not to say I would have done anything for this relationship, but I would do everything I could. I was asking her to bet her joy and hopes and dreams on building with me. It was a sense of self-love and self-respect that would guide me. And, so, I knew that I had what I needed to find my way.

• Side Note: Resource for understanding healthy balance and commitment(in the absense of the post I’d like to write)

I thought I had lost my North Star

I wanted her to feel loved for every one of her parts. And, not just by me. At best, I wanted to be a reminder. I wanted to be one of the many that could act as proof: that this was the love she could expect from all those she let in. I was lucky to be one to receive her love. She gave so much. She was resilient and brave and generous and tender and more than I could have ever asked for. And, so, I chose my relationship with her to be my north star.

I had held a lot of ideas about what romantic love meant to me. And then I met R. To me, she shined brighter than any star in the sky. That’s not to say that she was perfect or that I always felt like my needs were being known and held with the care that I would wish for. I always did my best to see her for who she was because I wanted, more than anything, to bring integrity to who she was as her whole, beautiful, brilliant, flawed, hilarious, and unlike any other self. (How I wish this was a series about this woman’s virtues; we’d all be better for knowing them)

And then, our relationship was, decidedly, over. Sort-of. One of my many mistakes was my inability to have that discussion with the integrity and respect it deserved. (More on that in the next post)

Refinding my star

And, so, seven months later and I still can’t shake the love I have for this person and the life I was building with her. I still dream of a world where I know her. At this very moment, I imagine she’s surrounded by the beautiful community she has built. With better luck, I would be breaking fast with her and them right now. To enumerate all of the things I wish I was still sharing with these people would be its own series. I know that I miss the closeness I was hoping to build with every individual she was close to. They were all so kind, and interesting, and good. She is lucky for them. And they, are lucky for her.

And, so, seven months later, and I’m finally brave enough to look through the pictures of the memories we made together. My north star never left, it’s only really changed a little bit. My hope was always to be the best version of me that I could be. Now, instead of doing so in the hopes of keeping what I have, I’m doing so to learn from the ways that I failed us. I might not get another next time with R, but with any luck, there will be a next time with somebody. In honor of the love I have for myself, and the gift that I received from these people, I won’t squander my next chance.

And, so, I’m writing this to hold myself accountable to me. This is my work.

Yom Kippur - practicing community responsibility and self-respect

I wish to learn more how to live a more gentle and consistent life.

The ceremony of Yom Kippur will be the lens through which I attempt to account for the things that are hardest to take stock of. Yom Kippur is a time that ask us to radically open ourselves up to our neighbors and ourselves. It asks us to take responsibility for our actions and to give those around us the opportunity to be near us in love and peace. To me, Yom Kippur is comprehnsive in its lessons to help me begin this journey of healing and growing.

I’m not a religious man. I am a wandering man that has had the luck to find a home in community with those of the Jewish faith. This home was introduced to me by a woman that will forever mean the world to me. One of the ways she always shined brightest was in how she lives her life through her faith. I hope that she gets to continue to grow in this faith, and that it continues to enrich her life in all of the ways.

Hineni

Here I am. This series isn’t meant to be a mere enumeration of my folly. It is meant to give myself a space in which to explore myself in my entirety. In honor of the love I have for myself, my community, and the great love I still hold for her and her community, I commit myself to this work. It is my sincerest hope that those that find these writings find something for themselves.

— thEmself

R, I hope you know how right you were.