I've been away. Took a break from writing this thing. Not on purpose. Life just happens. Lots has happened in the last few weeks. Lets see...
Not at all least important, I had a little health scare (mom - I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry). Suffice it to say there were ultrasounds and all manner of pictures taken and scared looking technicians that all resulted in a "You're fine!" prognosis. Whew. I'd convinced myself (while remaining very calm) that it was not going to be good. That I was finally happy - REALLY happy - and so the shoe would now drop. Work is good. I have it all in perspective. I work hard, love the people I work with, have new opportunities, feel respected... can't beat it.
I have a writing opportunity (which I need to hunker down and take advantage of) - I've been asked to write a young adult series about the dark side of gymnastics. I've done some chapters. But I need to speed it up! Agent likes it. All bodes well.
And I fell in love. Madly. Can't write, can't do much of anything but be with him and ponder my good fortune.
I thought I didn't get to have this. I thought: I'm a lucky girl. Great job. Successful. Able to provide for myself and my family in ways I never thought possible. I have two charming, smart, interesting, healthy children - we have fun and we explore and talk and laugh constantly. They can be total pains in the ass too but mostly, they are golden.
I have a "hobby" I love - writing. (Recently my youngest asked me what my hobby was... "Work?" he said...nice) And I've found some success at it. I have beautiful, amazing, large quantities of friends from all the corners of my life - work, gymnastics, college, high school, dance class, San Francisco randoms. Close friends. Kind, invested friends who support me and show up when I need them. As I do for them. I have a terrific family. A brother that can't be beat. Who showed up every day after my divorce and helped me out and hung my television and talked to me and made me food and listened to me cry. And cheered me on. A sister in law who did the same and tolerated a weepy, always around sister in law in the form of me. And two - soon to be three - nephews who squeal my name when I show up... Aunt Jen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So I don't get love. Ok. I can be happy anyway. I enjoy my time alone. I love reading and writing and going to movies. I'm on my own, I'm not alone. My mantra. I'm at peace. And I was.
And then there he was. In the wild. Not on-line. I met him at a reading of a mutual friend. Perfect. We both love books. He asked me out. We had a date. That was it. I was done for. Either done dating or serious heartbreak. I didn't admit it to myself right away. How could I? Only crazy people, obsessive romantics, fall in love on the first date. I think I maybe waited til the second date. Patient. Hah.
I never knew that kind and smart - really crazy super duper smart - came in one package. With the right amount of darkness. I thought I had to give up one or the other. Pick, Jen, kind or smart. Which one? I didn't know intensity could happen with calm. In a person or in a relationship.
He wouldn't have made it through my filters on-line. Never married. No kids. I thought these things were important if I expected to be understood. I wouldn't have made it through his either. I was - am - too old. He's not a youth chaser. Just didn't want a 39 year old childless woman desperate to get married and have IVF twins before it was no longer an option.
And yet I've never felt more understood. Life circumstances don't create understanding. It's unaccountable really, what draws people to each other. How they, how we, just know when it is IT.
Every time he says something kind - which is often - I think he's being sarcastic. That's how crazy I am. I'm starting to get used to it though and now I can at least not say, "Are you fucking with me?" every single time he utters a kindness. I can take it in and feel grateful. And feel understood. And loved. Never pressured or controlled. Heard. Taken in. He doesn't want to move the pieces around. He takes them all in - as they are me - and he says: I wouldn't change a thing. I don't need you to want differently, be different, express yourself differently. Just be. It is more than enough for you to just be you. It is everything.
There is nothing he could tell me that would scare me off. And he says some scary shit about the past. Or what would be scary to other gals. It all makes me love him more. Not the stuff itself. The openness. And maybe even the stuff itself. Who knows.
It's unaccountable really, what draws people to each other. And in this big insane world, it is amazing that two people ever meet each other. The confluence of circumstance required for that to happen is remarkable.