I’ve not been around much lately. This morning, I realized that I was missing my life, and recognized that I needed to get back to it. Happily, D also recognized it for me and for himself.

I was thinking about Brene Brown’s acronym BRAVING, for trust. The “B” in that acronym is for Boundaries. I realized it’s not just setting boundaries for behavior of others toward me, but for myself. I made a commitment to myself that I would not ever give up my passions for anyone else, after my ex tried to mold me into his idea of what a perfect woman should be. “Grooming” he called it. He was “grooming” me. I remember thinking, “Go fucking groom yourself.”

S did not really try to “groom” me. But he did try to curb my commitment to writing, to get me to write only things that we acceptable to him. He wanted me to write fiction. I have a hard time with fiction. I write what’s real and true for me, and often that was at odds with what he wanted to see, and often, the reason it was at odds was because he’d told his girlfriend about this blog and she read it. God forbid she knew the truth. Other times, it was explicitly about his terrible behavior, the games he would play, the hurt and pain he caused me. None of which was something he wanted to face.

His lack of, and disrespect for, boundaries.

I didn’t give up my writing. I may have tried to censor it somewhat, but even then, it was not hard to read between the lines. It caused endless problems for me, for me and him, for him and her, but really. I mean REALLY, what else could he expect, knowing that it’s what I do. He’s the one who told her about this blog. Which tells me, he wanted her to know, for reasons known only to him, and probably so deep even he doesn’t recognize them as real. Personally, and I could be wrong completely, I think now, looking back, he wanted her to break up with him, so he didn’t have to be the bad guy.

Along comes D. On about our 4^th or 5^th date, I realized I had to tell him about the blog. I was scared shitless, really, considering the issues it caused me with S. But D had to know. If he was going to know me, he had to know about the blog. So I told him, over a Cuban sandwich, about it. He was interested, but didn’t ask to read it. He asked questions about it, but obviously could see the discomfort and vulnerability it caused me. However, a few days later I sent him a poem, which gave him access. I knew it did, I expected that he would read it. He said he got half-way through the blog previous to the one I’d sent him and felt like he shouldn’t be reading it without my explicit permission. He told me this. I gave him permission, of course. I was however, terrified, seeing as how so much of it was about the contentious, and passionate relationship with S.

He did not disappoint. His comments were, “What I got out of it is how much you are capable of loving, how far you will go for love.” And then…. “I don’t need to continue reading. I don’t need all the details. I know you better, I know all I need to know.” And I don’t believe he’s read much else, unless I send him something I’d like him to read. He’s sure of himself, and of me, and there is no game. The blog is who I am, and he applauds me, likes that I have a passion. He makes me take time to continue to follow this passion.

I think that my giving him permission to view my life through this intimate and completely vulnerable. wndow, gave him permission from himself to tell me things he had always kept to himself.

The trust is awesome.

I’m in a place now I never really thought I’d be. Not that I hadn’t wanted it, but just didn’t think I’d ever find it. I was beginning to wonder if my new lesson wasn’t how to be satisfied with living my life out alone. If it was, then I’d learn the lesson, with as much grace as I could. It seems, maybe I won’t have that lesson to learn after all. Time will tell.

The marble jar just keeps getting fuller.

Love and light, everyone.