Lovin' Ain't Easy

Falling in love wasn’t an easy process for me. There are a thousand reasons why but I want to be clear. Falling in love isn’t easy for me. It is painful and it means thinking about someone else other than myself and it means letting someone near to the places inside of me that are still so raw and hurt that I don’t even like to look at them. Loving someone meant giving up always being in control and having to be gentle with their feelings as I made changes in my own life. This is not something I am skilled with. At all.

I don’t think I have my soul mate but I have a damn good mate. This is because I don’t believe in soul mates. I don’t think we were “meant” for each other but I think we have grown into meaningful relationship. I never understood being “meant” for someone anyway. I don’t know that God had him picked out for me but I do believe God helped me pick someone worth having. I just don’t think that this is how God interacts with the creation. I could keep going with these but you get the general idea.

The warm fuzzies of a new relationship are addicting to me. Like having that first snort of cocaine after not having it for months on end. It is fucking gorgeous. The problem is that when that warm fuzzy wears off and I’m left with a hairy man who has a hard time communicating emotions when he’s tired and he’s tired all the time because he works a lot. Yeah, that’s the problem. I mean, what do I do with a hairy, grumpy tired man who happens to love me? What do you DO with that?

Most of the time I still don’t know. I feed him and give him his space while still trying to get a snuggle in I suppose. Perhaps that’s what falling in love for me really is: finding the balance between the warm fuzzies and the frustratingly annoying hairs that stick to the linoleum floor of the bathroom. It’s knowing that while we often have little in common we have the ability to talk for hours on end on occasion and are very good at sleeping in the same bed without annoying the other too much. He doesn’t snore. This is one of the biggest reasons why we worked out I think.

Also he knows how to put me in my place. I always thought I’d want a man who supported me in whatever crazy venture I decided on but I realize now if I’d gotten that kind of man I’d fallen out of love because he’d be a pushover. Instead I needed a man who knows how to put up a fight. I needed an alpha to match my alpha. This, sometimes, can cause a shit ton of conflict because we’re both jockeying to be in charge. It means that, at times, I’ve wanted to run because I don’t feel like he has my back. It means, at times, he’s wanted to run because he thinks I’m out of my mind. I am sometimes out of my mind.

Once, when I was treating him like crap he responded, “Hannah, you’re being a dick to me right now and it is not okay.” This was the first time I realized I was gonna marry him. You see, for me, falling in love is not roses and sweetness and feather pillows. Love, for me, is scraped knees and tears and hugs and saying what I need to say even if I am afraid. I needed to know that he would put me in my place once in a while. I needed to know that he would question my crazy ideas and make me play the tape through. I needed someone who would be willing to follow me anywhere as long as I was willing to fight for it- even if it meant fighting my partner a little bit too.

Falling in love has been a consistent process that has taken persistence and an unrelenting commitment to forgetting all the Disney movies I grew up on. It has meant loads of therapy, writing and talking to friends. It has meant learning how to make the bed everyday even though I hate doing it. It means being willing to pick up the house when I’d rather be blogging or napping or watching tv.  It has meant pushing him to be okay with the occasional mess or dishes not being in the dishwasher. It has meant snuggling up on the couch on Sunday mornings and delaying the inevitable house clean up process but still having the clean up process even though I’d rather not.

I want people to understand. I have cried a lot in the process of falling in love. I have also hyperventilated a few times and had at least three panic attacks. He has also made me laugh a thousand times over, has moved us twice and has held me while I sobbed over the decision to give up my dog, buried my brother and lost two of our unborn children.  He is not the epitome of an emotionally sound person but he is the most stable, caring and consistent man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. He can converse with me over religious theory and practical applications of 12-step recovery and not blink an eye but he wears work boots to the job every day. It is So. Damn. Sexy.

Getting to the point where I am comfortable and content in our relationship has meant almost breaking up at least twice. It has meant seriously considering the realization that we might not be able to find a middle ground. I believe that considering that possibility is the reason why we were capable of deciding that we would work it out. You see, I’m ultra liberal and he’s a swing voter. I’ve lived in 2 states and 1 other country in the past seven years and I’ve only just got him to move out of the county where he’s resided for the past 10. So yea, we’re different. Our differences are good and awesome and so very frustrating when I realize he supported yet another Republican candidate.

I’m really really really glad we’re different. I’m glad that we both like Six Flags and CBS Sunday Mornings but he’s totally okay with me taking the bus to Philly without him for a week and I’m totally okay with his insatiable desire to do service work for the 12-step community we participate in. Being different is good. Sometimes annoying but mostly good. But also highly annoying.

That being said, the whole process has been frustratingly overwhelming at times and is nothing like what I thought it would be. I still struggle with letting go of Disney movies and the concept of what long term love really looks like. I’m really so glad he’s mine and I’m really glad I’m just southern enough that I took his name and just me enough that I will forever get tattoos whether he likes it or not. That, after all, is what falling in love is all about.