Posted on | March 5, 2014 | No Comments
When you’re divorced, you tend to want to see the world in black and white: He hurt me, he was wrong. I was hurt, I was right. That fades over time but when you get into a serious relationship after divorce, those sharp dividing lines seem to reappear.
When Banks and I fight, which is rarely, I tend to throw up this brick wall between us, mortared together with all my insecurities about my judgment. I sit and sulk and wonder if I’m making the same mistakes again… after all, I fought with my ex and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED. I was talking to a friend of mine who is also divorced and we determined that allowing yourself to fall in love after divorce is pretty much like flying after surviving a plane crash. You don’t have to do it. You can live your whole life without ever stepping one foot on an airplane again… but think of how much you’d miss.
I don’t want to miss out on life because I’m too scared to fly for fear of crashing and if we’re being honest, falling in love with Banks has not been a puddle jumper.
This love story has been and continues to be… a trans-Atlantic flight.
And along the way, I swear there have been times when I’ve wanted to run so fast and so far in the opposite direction that I’d never see anyone who even knew him ever again. I’m sure he’s felt the same. But then where would I be? Where would we be? Still sitting in an airport, trying to decide if it’s ever going to be worth our time to get on a plane again?
I don’t want to be that person.
I don’t want to run every time Banks does something that reminds me of my Ex.
I don’t want to push him away just because he has back story, just because he’s not perfect… just because he doesn’t think I’m perfect.
Because we’re not… neither of us.
We’re these scarred and wounded and stitched up people who have decided, both of us, to get on this plane together. We’re survivors. And just as I expect him to embrace my faults, my insecurities and my particular brand of crazy… I have to do the same.
Disagreement isn’t indicative of incompatibility.
Imperfection isn’t a sign of disaster.
It’s time to start tearing down the wall, the one around my heart and mind that says “Your judgment is flawed. Your ability to reason is skewed. Your perfect match will be… perfect.” It’s time to look around and realize that just as I am capable of making wrong decisions, I am equally capable of making right ones.
And getting on this particular plane? Falling into this particular love story?
Yeah… I think that’s right. I really do.