Leap of Faith

I found a four leaf clover out in my yard today/It had one leaf missing off it, but that was okay./Looking it over I could easily see/Four was really only just one less than three…/You don’t necessarily have to pay the fiddler to dance. -Todd Snider

The last of my possessions will be brought down tomorrow. I’ve got 80% of my life unpacked in my new apartment already, and I’m very excited about the move. I have to bring my books, my shelves, and a handful of trinkets, then I’ll officially be moved in with my boyfriend, back in the part of the city to which my soul has been perpetually drawn. By the end of the week, I should even have all my artsy and crafty stuff organized, which really excites me because I can’t wait to get sewing again. The strangest part about it for me is that the apprehensions I have are very mild compared to the confidence I feel that I am where I do belong.

I’ve been very guilty in the past of not only following the flow of life’s river, but laying limp in the water just waiting to see where I land. Last summer, however, I found a way to swim with the current, which has led to the universe handing me a job in the part of town I love, the same place I’m now moving to be with the afore mentioned boyfriend. I’ve known Tim for years, since I was seventeen. I’ve always been very drawn to him as a person, but he’s sixteen years older than I, so when I first met him, I don’t think either of us ever expected to be together. But, he lives in my part of town, and since I took the job at the bagelery, our paths started crossing more regularly when I’d get off work, he’d be at the coffee house I haunt getting his before-work caffeine session in. The funny part about it is that our relationship began just over a year into his sobriety after having been an alcoholic. He works as a bartender, which seems to provide a constant reminder to him as to why he quit, and he claims that the temptation to drink is a weak one. Everyone who was close to him while he was a drinker has in one way or another told me how much better a person he is now that he’s sober, and the strange thing about it is I instinctively kept him as an acquaintance while he was still drinking, and only began to develop the friendship once he had quit drinking, and very shortly thereafter.

Now, I find myself with a man who raises me up as a person; his influence on my life has been the most positive that I’ve had in a few years, and he doesn’t try to cultivate the traits I am proud to see blooming in myself. Financially, I’ve been more responsible, I’ve been more receptive to emotions, better at knowing when to help others and when to withhold help… I’ve been a kinder, gentler, happier and more socially graceful snarkey. My confidence has grown… and I’ve learned how to live again in ‘perfect love and perfect trust.’

Now, the point of this isn’t just to gush about how lucky I feel and how awesome my relationship is and nah-nah-nah and whatnot, but just to juxtapose my current attitudes to the way I’ve acted and reacted throughout my life leading up to this decision-laden move. The other boyfriend that I lived with, I was never opened up towards. I couldn’t let him in, and really had very little in common with. I had been desperate for love at that point, and unfortunately (and I do not report this with pride) I committed myself to someone I could never truly love. I despised his flaws so deeply and wanted only to change him, but he would bend over backwards for me and I loved being loved. I ran away from that relationship into the house I’ve been in for the past two years.

Now, the girl that made those mistakes that in the end only hurt her and her supposed love would have never decided to put herself here. She would have looked at the difference in age and over analyzed everything. She would have used what she could, but kept her admirer at a distance, and she would have never in a million years believed that even with all the ways their personalities fit together like pieces of a puzzle would mean anything in the long run. She would have been convinced that despite the deep conversation, the many shared interests, and the mental and emotional bonds forged would be meaningless in his eyes.

But somehow, even though he’s 41, I really do believe he is being honest with me. His friends treat me like someone who will be a part of their lives for some time, not like a passing fad. His fears and insecurities are few and far between, but when they do come up they seem to add up to wanting something real. I may just be an idiot girl in love, but I’ve over-analyzed nearly every relationship I’ve been in, this one included, and in the end, I’m only afraid of becoming a self-saboteur through over-analyzing.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is that there’s no turning back now, and I’m pretty sure I’m okay with this. Wish me luck in the new life I’m forging! (and please, don’t let me be an idiot. ~_^)