I consider myself a smart, independent woman. I know that I can be alone, and that I can be perfectly happy doing so. The older I get, however, I become more accepting of vulnerability and want the trappings of a life shared with someone else. Perhaps this is a byproduct of being so close to getting married to the person I thought was the One, an occurrence in which I allowed myself to be caught up in the idea of it all and finally relaxed enough to contemplate a real, honest to God future with another human being.
The fact that this ended going up in flames in a spectacular fashion apparently doesn't faze this part of my psyche. I still want to share my life with the right person, someone who will be there day in and day out for me. I need and want someone whose arms I can just collapse to after a rough day at work, someone who will take care of me while I'm sick, and someone who'll understand my need to see my friends. I want someone who'll be a good father to our children, who won't flinch at the thought of helping me change diapers, taking them to school, or grocery shopping. I want someone who I can trust, someone who I can give my everything to and not wonder what they did with it all because he's as committed to us as I am. I don't want perfection, but I want a real partnership.
This needing and wanting scares the living daylights out of me because sometimes it seems like I want too much and am asking too much of another human being. I look at my parents, who've been married for almost 40 years and I think that it's a rare occurrence, a lottery of sorts. I look at them and I want that, and I'm scared that I will never get it because I don't deserve it.
I know life has a weird way of working itself out. I see the potential my now boyfriend has to be the person that I want. He fits most of my wants almost to a T, even if sometimes I wonder if that's true or if it's something that I want to see. Then I think about how independent he is, something I truly adore about him, but something that makes me worry that he'll never be able to fully share his life with me. I need someone to be there, with me, committed to the household day after day because it not only was his choice, but it feels like he should be there. I worry he won't choose me, just like my ex ended up taking back his word.
Days like today, where I'm plagued by the good memories of a previous relationship, memories of him taking care of me when I was sick, like I am today, and I find myself alone in my room typing because my boyfriend is out of town; I worry that I'm not strong enough to be the woman I believe myself to be. The woman I think I am and the woman who feels the need to type this are two completely different people, one is an ideal and the other one is broken.
Today I seek the strength to mend myself. Tomorrow I may get it.
