I believe in any relationship you reach a point where you begin to wonder why you love this person. Maybe things are hard, frustrations pile up, and the work that it takes to keep things going just seems like too much. In relationships that have lasted a long time, you reach this point more than most. Generally, when I come to find myself anguishing over this question, I fade away. I come to the conclusion that loving them is too hard. Well, no, that isn’t accurate, not that loving them is too hard, because I still do that. I haven’t gotten to the point where I know how to stop loving someone. I’m not sure anybody ever does. But I come to conclusion that I don’t fit in their lives, or they don’t fit in mine, and it’s better to quit chafing to make it seem so. All you do is rub away the parts that made you love each other in the first place.
It has taken me a long time and a lot of lessons to understand that love is work. Any kind of love, any kind of relationship is work. And balance. Allowing the other person to grow, making sure that while you grow you keep them in the loop. Listening, really hearing what they tell you. Supporting their decisions. Millions of other little tidbits. And even with the great strides I have made, I still know that I have so much left to learn. I’m ok with that. In some ways, I look forward to it.
Lately all I’ve been doing is asking myself if it’s worth it. Everything is beginning to seem too hard. Or pointless. And I’m beginning to look at people with questions rather than the answers I already know. I’ve been coming close to giving up. But I woke up today to something that reminded me why I love. My sleep had been filled with dreams of some of the people that have been giving me the most cause to question and I had decided to stop, decided that really maybe it wasn’t worth it. But eight little insignificant words, left for me on a whim, for no real purpose, made me laugh. God, did I laugh. And a little bit of the weight the rests on my heart lifted. All the reasons I’ve worked so hard, refused to let them drift away from me, came rushing back.
It’s really the little things. The things you do without motive, without greater purpose that count the most for me. Calling because you wanted to, not because there was something you needed to tell me. Letters hand written just to say I am missed. Emails filled with nothing but ramblings just because you wanted to connect with me. The pebble you picked up on a walk that you gave me because you thought I might like it. Messages left on a whim, just to make me laugh. Those count, oftentimes more than people realize. I’m going to make damn sure that they know those eight words were very much needed.
So I’m firmly grabbing hold again. The white towel has been put away. I know I’ll come to the point where things are hard again, and the questions are coming one on top of the other. I’ll look at the combined history and only see the problems. But I know something will come along to knock some sense in me.
I'm hoping I can return the favor, for someone else. Remind them without even knowing, why they love me, or why they love something. Make them smile, and laugh, and look at things in not quite so dire a fashion.