Unless there are flowers around. Flowers always, always make me smile.
So I read this blog about loving strong & complicated women.
I had posted it one year ago on my Facebook timeline, an obvious plea for love from my then-estranged husband, the King of the Central Highlands.
Before the dark times....before the Empire.
Oops. A little Obi-Wan there...
It's been a year now; I left on October 8th. The divorce was final lighteningly fast on January 11th.
Qui-Gon is right.
How do you love a strong and complicated woman?
Like one who started a business in 2016, and it already has two locations, five months ahead of schedule?
One who returns to the place she was fired from to perform a program and leave on her terms....
One who tries and tries again to get fit, despite a genetic predisposition to survive famine and disease, all because she's on a quest and wants to see where it leads?
(Side note: the quester in question still misses her abs and is on her second week of no fast food. Salads only for lunch (with no dressing) and yet has somehow gained weight. Sigh.)
And one who is increasingly exhausted but takes immense comfort from these two lovable fuzz balls?
It's actually really simple: you accept her.
For her quirks and her argumentative nature. For her utter passion for everything she loves.
She wants this for Christmas, btw.
For the truth is, it's easy to love any woman when you accept them as they are.
Yes, some may be more difficult to accept (fine, I admit it. But if I scare you away it wasn't meant to be anywise.). But with that higher degree of acceptance comes a higher degree of love in return.
And a higher level of hurt when rejected.
I have learned in this past year that the fear of hurt, and the lingering hurts from past loves, has built walls around many hearts.
Ah...you may have up a stone wall, but I do see a passable place of entry....
Being strong and complicated, I'll search and pry, looking for the chink in the armor.
But I'm strong and complicated.
I am reminded of my Wingman's words, as he hugged me goodbye the other night: "Once again in the arms of someone who won't commit," he softly said, kissing the top of my head. "Be more patient, Kate."
We had just played three different games of cards with friends, and the laughter had been easy. I had not minced words about the fact I was "done kissing boys" and was enjoying the peace it had brought me. My Wingman had declared he was marrying our bartender, and was eliciting my help in getting her favor. The Wizard was enjoying teaching me the different games, and while I died of dysentery playing Oregon Trail and died of an Exploding Kitten shortly thereafter i couldn't keep from smiling. Wingman's words resonated with my boss's instructions the week before: slow down.
Yea, I'm strong and complicated. We need partners beside us to thrive, it's just who we are. Much of what we do is full throttle, balls to the wall. We take action quickly, and perhaps that's not the most feminine trait. As an analyst who studies everything, I am noticing a trend in advice:
Slow down. Be patient. Dial it back. Calm down. Don't talk too much, listen more.
Interestingly, all things the King used to say to me.
Divorce is never a one way street. While my marriage was complicated from its inception, for 17 years it worked well enough. Quite honestly, it stopped working when I stopped trying, tired of doing without love or acceptance in return.
So here I am, still looking for that love and acceptance.
I think I already made that decision. I said goodbye forever to one I once thought I loved, and am working on being content to relax. Slow down.
The kittens help. Really.
We shall see.
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