My mind and heart are divided against themselves. Conflicting desires, the cold steely knife of reason, and the ache of longing and regret all swirl around inside me. I lost the best relationship and the best man I've ever had because I'm Mormon. That wasn't the only reason, but it was primary. Otherwise, we would have lasted much longer. He wouldn't have been so fatalistic about our future. And if there had been sex, he wouldn't have broken up with me when he did. The truth is, unless a man is looking for a wife, there's no reason for him to pursue a Mormon woman.
The other men I lost for that reason were no loss. They weren't worth my time. This one, was different. Very different. No one else ever treated me so well in all my life. He had everything I wanted in a man, and more, he is: passionate, witty, intellectual, smolderingly sexy, talented, affectionate, and geeky and dark in all the right ways. He was my bespectacled Smiths boy. We loved the same kinds of things, music, movies and our nerdy stuff. I liked his novels and stories, he liked talking about my work. Our oddness was perfectly suited for one another. Being with him was . . . there wasn't enough time in a day.
Also unlike the others, he liked all of me. I wasn't his trophy. He really loved me. He loved everything about me, everything except the Mormon thing. The Mormon and celibacy thing. Can that kind of difference be worked out? Others have done it. Many have not. I wanted to try. He thought it was impossible, "We're too different."
"Not really. We're completely compatible, except for religion."
"That's big."
Sigh . . . "I suppose."
So, he ended it and went away.
As for me, "I won't be okay and I won't pretend I am." **
How am I supposed to deal with this? Everything inside me screams at me to give it up and go be with him. But I can't. I made promises to God. A God I cannot see nor touch. My commitment to those promises has to compete with the most visceral and real of human experiences, that of loving another, a person I can see and touch. Someone I miss so much it makes my body hurt. And as I miss him, I have to remember my promises, recommit to them even. I have to fight myself in order to keep my resolve against the other parts of me, the parts that hurt. This sends me through combinations of sadness, anger, longing, love, hurt, regret, denial, confusion, and grief. Those feelings are normal for a serious break-up, but the religion aspect adds layers of emotional complication. Because something good in my life got tangled up with something really bad. Because I loved that man, but I also love my God.
Sometimes, when I let my mind drift, I think about how much easier it would be to give in. Give up the fight and go back to him. Let him love me the way he wants to. But, I can't. I can't because I know what I know. I can't deny the life that I've had, a lifetime of being loved by my God. For as long as I can remember, He loved me, always, when no one else did. He was there and I knew it. I survived my childhood solely because of that relationship. Without it, I would have killed myself, really. That was the one thing that kept me from putting a blade through my veins. How can I ever turn my back on that? I will not. Not for anyone. Not for a man I love, and not for myself.
Regardless, I'm wise enough to know that renouncing my religion would not save the relationship. It would forever come between us. I'd always resent him for it and he'd always feel guilty. That alone is enough to destroy a relationship. And, no one should sacrifice themselves, who they are, for a relationship. That's what I would be doing. It would create an imbalanced and unhealthy partnership, doomed from the start.
Still, part of me yearns to give in anyway. The foolish and physical parts want my will to break. Luckily, I am stronger than that. (Luckily? Really?) So I keep clinging to my resolve. And I try to comfort myself. I remember to believe that this too shall pass, that my feelings will fade. I'm just not sure how long it will take, or how to clear away the emotional sludge. I really hope it goes away. There is nothing I can do now but wait.
Logically, I know I could find someone else, somewhere there must be someone who will accept all of this, who will accept me. But, right now, I don't want someone else. I can't imagine anyone I would like more. It's him. He's the one I want to be with. He is so extraordinary and wonderful, and it took me 34 years to find him. Yes, there will be more men. They've already come back and are crawling around. But, since I couldn't work these things out with him, I wonder if I ever will with anyone. It feels impossible, like this kind of goodness will never happen again.
"There's only one thing impossible, that is to love and to part."
The other men I lost for that reason were no loss. They weren't worth my time. This one, was different. Very different. No one else ever treated me so well in all my life. He had everything I wanted in a man, and more, he is: passionate, witty, intellectual, smolderingly sexy, talented, affectionate, and geeky and dark in all the right ways. He was my bespectacled Smiths boy. We loved the same kinds of things, music, movies and our nerdy stuff. I liked his novels and stories, he liked talking about my work. Our oddness was perfectly suited for one another. Being with him was . . . there wasn't enough time in a day.
Also unlike the others, he liked all of me. I wasn't his trophy. He really loved me. He loved everything about me, everything except the Mormon thing. The Mormon and celibacy thing. Can that kind of difference be worked out? Others have done it. Many have not. I wanted to try. He thought it was impossible, "We're too different."
"Not really. We're completely compatible, except for religion."
"That's big."
Sigh . . . "I suppose."
So, he ended it and went away.
Reluctantly. Torn. Hurting.
As for me, "I won't be okay and I won't pretend I am." **
How am I supposed to deal with this? Everything inside me screams at me to give it up and go be with him. But I can't. I made promises to God. A God I cannot see nor touch. My commitment to those promises has to compete with the most visceral and real of human experiences, that of loving another, a person I can see and touch. Someone I miss so much it makes my body hurt. And as I miss him, I have to remember my promises, recommit to them even. I have to fight myself in order to keep my resolve against the other parts of me, the parts that hurt. This sends me through combinations of sadness, anger, longing, love, hurt, regret, denial, confusion, and grief. Those feelings are normal for a serious break-up, but the religion aspect adds layers of emotional complication. Because something good in my life got tangled up with something really bad. Because I loved that man, but I also love my God.
Sometimes, when I let my mind drift, I think about how much easier it would be to give in. Give up the fight and go back to him. Let him love me the way he wants to. But, I can't. I can't because I know what I know. I can't deny the life that I've had, a lifetime of being loved by my God. For as long as I can remember, He loved me, always, when no one else did. He was there and I knew it. I survived my childhood solely because of that relationship. Without it, I would have killed myself, really. That was the one thing that kept me from putting a blade through my veins. How can I ever turn my back on that? I will not. Not for anyone. Not for a man I love, and not for myself.
Regardless, I'm wise enough to know that renouncing my religion would not save the relationship. It would forever come between us. I'd always resent him for it and he'd always feel guilty. That alone is enough to destroy a relationship. And, no one should sacrifice themselves, who they are, for a relationship. That's what I would be doing. It would create an imbalanced and unhealthy partnership, doomed from the start.
Still, part of me yearns to give in anyway. The foolish and physical parts want my will to break. Luckily, I am stronger than that. (Luckily? Really?) So I keep clinging to my resolve. And I try to comfort myself. I remember to believe that this too shall pass, that my feelings will fade. I'm just not sure how long it will take, or how to clear away the emotional sludge. I really hope it goes away. There is nothing I can do now but wait.
Logically, I know I could find someone else, somewhere there must be someone who will accept all of this, who will accept me. But, right now, I don't want someone else. I can't imagine anyone I would like more. It's him. He's the one I want to be with. He is so extraordinary and wonderful, and it took me 34 years to find him. Yes, there will be more men. They've already come back and are crawling around. But, since I couldn't work these things out with him, I wonder if I ever will with anyone. It feels impossible, like this kind of goodness will never happen again.
"There's only one thing impossible, that is to love and to part."
**NOTE: To those concerned commentors, thank you. But I absolutely did not give up, I tried to fight for us. HE BROKE UP WITH ME. I wanted to keep going.
