How do you become ready to take the leap?

How do you become ready to take the leap?

What leap — you ask.

Marriage.

I had hit a point where if I went on one more date, I might have self imploded. Love seemed just far enough out of reach that I had actively begun planning a big deadline for myself for my future: I would actively start researching adoption options to become a single mother at 35 years old.

I had lived abroad, dated a bunch of men that always fell short of my high expectations, and I had become independent enough to believe that I could go-it-alone if I had to. I had almost hit the point where I wanted to go-it-alone because it would just be easier. What is the point with being in a committed relationship when my committed relationships have only ever ended and yielded enormous amounts of hurt and pain?

And then, he showed up.

It was a summer day in Montana and I had been on the river all day kayaking with one of my best, type-two adventure girlfriends, who also happened to be my landlord, as I was renting a room in her house. For those who are wondering, there are three types of fun. Type-one fun, type-two fun and type-three fun.

Type-one fun is low-key, safe, standard fun — like going on a hike or going on a road-trip to a back country cabin. Mind you both of those activities can turn into type-two fun very quickly. Type-two fun is where the activity you are doing gets a little sketchy, which some people would call — when it gets interesting — and where you feel just enough of a rush, with the wind in your hair, and your heart beats a bit quicker. Type-three is the flirting with danger type of fun. This friend of mine really enjoys the thrill of type-two fun.

We ended the day eating burgers and drinking beers, both sweaty and happy from the sun and the river. Another friend, who I had acquired from the local yoga studio, said she was finishing up baking bread and then she would join us. She had been day drinking and baking, so we waited for her bread to rise and for her to pedal her bike to meet us.

I had connected with each of these women separately. I latched on to my type-two friend when we both volunteered for an annual local film festival. We carried a table together, chatted a bit, and silently swore to ourselves individually that we would be best friends. We were both right.

The baker friend took a little longer to connect with, as she was the woman that every other woman in the yoga studio secretly wished to be. The first time I spoke with her, I was nervous because — as fellow women know — we ladies can have hard exteriors when it comes to already having firm friend circles, but we became fast friends.

I had a date this night and knew what time he was due to arrive but I wasn’t very fussed. I was happy to watch the sun dip behind the mountain and finish my beer. Another date, another man in a series of men that I had shuffled through like a deck of cards, endlessly continuing to pick the jokers.

If you have never experienced a Montana summer, there are some days that are so infinitely beautiful and easily fluid that they are difficult to fully explain and unpack in words that truly do such days justice. The three of us sat together, drinking beers, finishing our burgers and wondered about this man who was driving down from Canada to meet me for the first time — almost a six-hour drive. I checked my phone and realized I should probably head home to shower because he was due in a half-hour. It should be noted that it is nearly impossible for me to shower nonetheless get ready in only thirty minutes.

Naked and standing in front of my full length mirror to blow dry my hair, trying to get just the right amount of wave in my hair — you know, that messy but put-together look — when my type-two friend burst through the door. Flustered, I squealed and threw on a towel as we both burst into laughter. She then proceeded to cautiously share why she had come in. She wanted to warn me about his politics.

Turns out, him and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things — however, we do communicate quite well. Thankfully, politics is one of the many topics we spat about — or share dialogue about — flip a coin for whichever term works best for you.

He wore a button down shirt and I wore a long black dress. Both of my girlfriends took turns asking him questions before he met me, as I was more than casually late for our date. I took him to the local wine bar and we created a memory together that I will always remember.

He is British, living in Canada, and I am an American. He asked for a pint glass for the beer he ordered — yes, at a wine bar — and then proceeded to sass the waitress when she explained to him that, in fact, the establishment did not carry pint glasses. We both chalk up his actions to nerves now but I never miss an opportunity to remind him that our first encounter was a bit rough.

Looking back at that moment, I know that I chose to be open when I could have been closed. It took me some time to be fully open and trusting but I knew my heart began shifting that night.

Distance has taught both of us how to actually talk with each other and actively listen to what the other person is saying. We have learned what it means to sustain love when daily in-person presence is impossible.

Long distance relationships are not an easy endeavor. It hasn’t been easy for either of us, and many times, I have debated whether to run away, wondering if it would be easier to go-it-alone. Every time my fear speaks, I have to hush it because fear speaks loudly and jabbers about old habits that I learned by allowing others to dictate my worth. Fear reminds me of hard lessons learned, most importantly, that loving another does not mean that I should stay in the relationship — wanting someone to change doesn’t mean that they too, want to change — nor should they. We each only have so much time here — it is up to each person to take up space how they wish to.

A tight grasp on a wrist will remind a woman that she was once one step too close to a potentially bad situation. An unkind word will remind a woman of the things she says to herself that once repeated back to her, she might actually start to believe. Being called an awful name will start to wear her down just as the ocean smooths a rock, the salt slowly eating the rock away until it is but dust.

Hearts re-learn how to trust. Hearts were created to pump blood and sustain a body for the entirety of a human life — this is no small feat. The muscle the size of a fist has walls meant to protect and defend against intruders. My heart became acutely aware of any potential attacks. She reinforced her walls over and over again till they could not become any thicker or any higher. Slowly, she learned that thick walls once built to keep love out can be worn down because of persistent hope and renewed faith.

We all have a story. And mine is not ending — rather, it is becoming entangled with another.

This entanglement is both beautiful and one that comes with immense fear. I have been sorting through this fear and trying to allow the fear to take shape, recognizing the value that fear brings — but also not giving the fear too much say. Fear does not dictate and get an actual say in my life anymore. While fear’s lessons were strong and true for past contexts, those lessons no longer serve me.

Our feelings don’t always need to make sense. It’s what we do after feeling them that counts, I think. That’s where the magic lives, in the action that comes after a feeling and what we decide. We can allow ourselves to stay in a place of feeling stuck or we can allow ourselves to recognize the feeling for what it is — just a feeling — and walk on.

Allowing is important. Feelings ask for our recognition. Our minds are strong and they hold such capacity, so it is up to us to train them for good, for what serves our hearts.

It is from that space that I wrote a letter to myself that I hope resonates with others in similar positions, whether it be marriage or any relationship or circumstance where you might feel loss tangled up with resounding love.

So, here goes — the letter to myself as I embark on this leap of marriage:

Dear me,

Take a breath.

Know it is ok to be scared.

It is ok to allow this fear.

Allow yourself to embrace this — the fear, the excitement, the unknown. everything you have chosen before now has been laced with a bit of fear and often, great unknown, and those times — well, they are some of your best times.

The times when you grew, when you gave and mostly when you connected through sweet vulnerability, through laughter, through missteps, through being yourself and staying/remaining open.

Fear is debilitating. So, please do not stay in that space. It’s ok to go there and experience fear and greet the fear with a kind hello, but much more and fear will take the reigns and bring you to your knees, so please — embrace fear.

Trust. You deserve love. Great love. And all your hopes — well, they are here alongside fear — so do not allows fear to overstay its welcome.

Loss — yes, it’s there and it is real. You must and you will make peace with this. Marriage means signing up for someone’s bag of shit — all that they carry with them now and all that they will ever carry throughout the rest of their life — all the things life with throw at them. Remember, he is signing up to carry your bag too — one handle for you, one for him.

Eyes wide, heart open. There are many you could love and many you have loved. You give love freely. Let them drift down the river — they will find their way. There are some dreams you may need to cut ties with. Let them drift into the sky and make their way back to earth to becomes the dreams of another.

It is ok to change your dreams. You are allowed.

There is so much unknown. Know you are held, you are loved, and this — this next part of your story — it’ll be all the things — hard, lovely, grand, sure-to-be-challenging— I promise it will be an adventure, so, like any adventure, prep as much as you are able and then allow the experience to change you.

Patterns. Habits you grew to know that served you once and now, no longer need to take up heart space. Thank them. Thank them for protecting you and keeping you safe. Send them too to the sky for surely someone else may need protection and to be kept safe too.

Last thing — show up. Every day. It is a choice, all of this. Commitment is a choice. So, when things get shaky and stormy, as they most certainly will — show up.

Show up — and face the sun.

You are ok.

Take a breath.

Allow.

Simply allow.

With hope — because we have always believed in the power of hope,

M.