(It's not Lawrence Welk Fridays, but what can ya do?)
Lately in therapy I've been performing an autopsy on an old relationship. I notice that many of the negative messages that I give myself seem to stem back to this one situation, so I've been thinking specifically about what happened and trying to see what I can learn from it.
The relationship was my longest at three years, and today I was remembering when I moved into his house, shortly after we started dating. I still traveled in religious circles at the time, and my large group of friends and my family members, almost without exception, permanently stopped speaking to me because I was suddenly a fornicator. I'm sure they were justified in their reasoning. You know the Bible passage that talks about God being love? Wait, that isn't that one. It was the one where Jesus chose to hang with sinners rather than saints. No, it wasn't that one. It must have been the one where Jesus invites those without sin to throw stones. Hmm. Well, anyway, I'm sure they had a good reason.
What I was thinking of today was the process of moving into his house, bringing all of my boxes inside, and how it took just about a day to unpack everything. I knew this relationship was it, and that we would be together forever. We seemed to click on so many levels, and I felt that I'd found the real deal - a person who appreciated who I was at the core. I felt the same way about him - there was no laundry list of things to try to change or "fix" - I wanted to be with him for who he really was. It was the kind of thing I'd dreamt about, but wasn't even sure existed. And I'd found it. I remember feeling confident and lucky.
And yet that day while he was somewhere else in the house unpacking my clothes and I was downstairs putting my CDs in with his, I remember sneakily putting tiny white stickers on the back of all my CD cases before I mixed the collections. You know, just in case. This strikes me as hilarious now - I was willing to give my heart away, but not my Blink-182. And I would have done the same thing with my books, but he didn't have any. (Red flag #1?) Good times.