Dreaming Me

Forty years ago, I was nearing my 20th birthday, and I was "in love."  At least, that is what I thought at the time.  Looking back, I realize that that 19-year-old girl-woman was in love with the idea of being in love, and in love with the idea of belonging to someone who cared, and most of all, in love with the idea of being safe.  Marrying that "knight in shining armor" wannabe was a huge mistake.  He was a good guy, but he wasn't equipped to love me to happiness or security or safety.

I toughed it out in that sad excuse for a marriage for some 25 years.  I bore two children to that man, and I raised those children into adulthood, all inside of that house that was never fully a home.  The guilt of that set of choices remains to this day, but I try not to indulge that.  Guilt is pretty much a useless emotion.  It doesn't do anything useful for them or for me.

As the marriage was drawing to an end, I fell "in love" again.  Having been a faithful and dutiful wife for all of my adult life, I had hardly any more experience in the world of life and love the second time around, and so... guess what?  I fell in love with the idea that THIS time, THIS love would make me happy; give me someone who cared; keep me safe; and finally give me that feeling of belonging somewhere.  Years did not equate to wisdom in my case.  Experience, had I had much of it, might have given me the understanding that I clearly still lacked.  Innocence and naivety are, perhaps, charming, but they sure as heck do not serve to equip a person for venturing out into the big wide world.

Now, I am approaching my 60th birthday.  Finally, I think I get it.  If I am going to be happy, I will need to figure that out for myself.  If I am going to belong to someone, that someone is going to have to be me.  If I am going to be safe enough to face the world without crippling fear, I am the only one who is going to stand in the breach and fend off the dragons, and villains, and soul-destroying predators.

I've spent a lifetime trying to win the love I've craved.  I've cared worked and struggled and watched the long lonely nights for love to come back to me in measure equal to what I've given.  I don't believe in that emotional economy anymore. It doesn't work.  No one ever feels obligated to return the favor.  No one ever accounts for what is given, and then begins to calculate what it would take to repay the debt.  People are simply animals, working to survive in the world, and they will take what is given and keep on walking their own paths with hardly a backward glance.

So.  Today I am promising myself to make myself happy.  I am promising that I will dream my own dreams.  I am promising that when I need to be cared for, and cared about, I will do the caring.  I'm tired of dreaming someone else.  It is time to begin dreaming me.