267: Letting Go of the Unknown

I wrote the following a week or so ago and sent the draft to a small chat group. Someone strongly encouraged me to publish it because she resonated with the concept and wanted to share it with her readers. So here are my thoughts from then, with a couple edits.

The journey from singleness to union is not what I would have expected. I would have thought that once you "arrive" at having found the one and fallen in love, that all former memories would pale in comparison. They'd practically disappear.

But, like a friend once told me, saying yes to one thing means saying no to another.

As someone who holds on to memories and clings to journals as mementos of who I have been, I find myself betwixt mourning what will never be again and embracing the fulfillment of all my hopes.

The other day I was thinking about how fun some past camping trips have been. But you know what was scintillating about some of those trips with other young people? Heading out of your tent to head to the campground bathroom in the early morning, knowing that few people have had the privilege of seeing you with sleepy eyes and messy hair, but feeling awfully scandalous (scandalously delighted) if the guy you have a crush on sees you. Or coming back from the shower with your hair wet and him seeing you. It's that hint of what you've always wanted--marriage with someone permanent--but it's like the whiff of chocolate chip cookies. You don't get the cookies, but the whiff excites you. But in marriage it seems like I'll get all the cookies. It seems like the teasing of the senses will be absent. I'll have someone who already sees me in my disheveled morning state every day, without the enticement from a chance meeting while camping.

Meet-ups too have lost their glow. The best part of meet-ups is the thrill of when someone you like makes eye contact, or talks with you, or when you serendipitously on-purpose find yourself sitting next to them or in their vicinity. But with marriage, you literally never experience the thrill of a slight acknowledgement from your crush ever again. Those 30 seconds of eye contact that you experienced at 17 years old that you STILL remember because it was so life momentous? In marriage, you don't experience the wondering what may happen: Will he contact you? What does this text mean? Could he like you back? The solidity of reality takes away the wisp of non-reality.

All we've wanted as women is certainty and a love of our own. But all we've known is uncertainty and the hope for something more. I feel a little bit of loss letting go of the hope in exchange for the reality. Hope projects fantasy on an un-actual future. Reality incorporates two people's current emotions, abilities, and mass and volume states, to create something that is very concrete and less ethereal than the hope that has kept me warm every day as a single.

I think I may need a rest-in-peace moment for all I've had...or haven't had.