This is a part II of a love story series. How many parts you ask? I’m not entirely sure yet, but at least three. We’ll see. If you missed part 1 you may find it easily by clicking the link here. This segment is titled “Walls.” Feel free to share the story if you can relate or think you know someone who can.
We were really trying to make something grow.
As I’ve said before, a lot can happen in a decade. I found myself in a strange time of my life; reverse culture shock, having returned to the south after being away for so long. I was bombarded by the strong southern accents I had gotten away from. At every corner I found familiar, friendly faces asking, “How’s your Momma and them?” It was something I had to get used to again, everyone knowing me, knowing everything, or thinking they did.
I was back with family, family I had gotten used to seeing but once a year. My youngest sister didn’t even seem to really know me, and that was a strange predicament in itself. I was surrounded by love and covered with support, and for some reason I couldn’t breathe under it all.
In the middle of this, there he was. My love. So supportive and so enchanted with me. It just felt so strange. It was good, but it was foreign. It was familiar, but it was new. Even when you have a history, a past lined with true affection, things still change. A lot can happen in ten years. It changes you.
In the decade away from him I had experienced pain. It hadn’t been chocked full of bad with no good. I had experienced happiness too, but it was the rejection and relationship failures that stuck to me like gum on the bottom of your shoe. It wasn’t just the time away either. In all honesty it had been there even before I met him leading one to question, had I built up walls even then? I believe I had.
I wanted to give my heart completely to Ben, but I was unable, even as I tried, I could not. I was naturally confronted by the ruins of my life as I saw it status post a failed marriage, but I also was tickled by the memory and nagging question of “why did this not work out the first time around?”
It wasn’t just me. It was him too. We were two people trying to walk hand in hand hampered by the bubbles we placed ourselves inside for self-preservation purposes. It’s pretty easy to convince yourself that no one can hurt you as long as you don’t go out to play. If you stay inside you won’t fall down and scrape your knee. If you don’t allow your heart to be held by another there is little chance that they’ll subsequently throw it on the dirt and smash it to pieces with a cleated shoe.
You end up keeping your heart to yourself. You share a little bit of the truth, but not all of it, and certainly not the ugly stuff. In essence, you’re with someone, like they’re in the same room, but you’re by yourself. You lay in bed at night as tears course down your cheeks and you cry to the sky, “Why God? Why do I feel so alone?”
After my mother passed away I turned even more into my self, creating a cocoon, a safe haven where I could be devoid of all emotion be it good or bad. I was akin to a hermit crab or perhaps a turtle. It was lonely in my shell, but somehow felt secure.
I’ve wrote of this moment before because it rests so brilliantly in my memory. It sits on a pedestal as favored thoughts often do. It was one of those “ah ha” moments where God speaks and does it so strongly and clearly that you have no choice but to sit up and listen. Intently.
We had been in a sort of stale existence in our relationship in the year after my mom’s passing. I was emotionally checked out and really have little memory of the entire time. Some of my amnesia is grief-related, but some was just plain side effects of too much alcohol indulgence. Either way, I wasn’t investing much in way of relationships. It was much easier to sit in front of the TV chain-smoking, seeing if I could become one with the sofa. He gave me space and I didn’t seem to mind. For a girl who so often brutally needed to have people around and feel loved and desired; for once I was fine with being alone. But yet, I wasn’t. I was in an empty place, and for some reason I was pushing Ben out of it. I didn’t want to, but I was.
I can recall standing in the card section reading over Valentine’s Day cards. I found one I really liked and felt would be perfect for him. It had a pewter heart attached to the front that read “love always.” As I placed it in my cart I heard God say, “You need to mean it. Don’t give it if you don’t.”
The card spoke of steadfast love, enduring love that faced all challenges and persisted on as it was meant to do. I thought about it, and at that moment I realized I did mean it. I realized I did want that. In the card aisle at Walmart God began the work of breaking down the walls I had built around my heart. I suddenly knew it would be okay, that I would be ok, that we would be ok. I felt as if I could finally begin breathing again.
To be continued…