Previously in Disrupting Domesticity: Take Care.
Since Kelly moved in, I’ve taken three flights that did not include him. One to say good-bye to my dying grandmother, one to Austin for SXSW, and one back home to Indiana to celebrate the love of two people I adore. Each time, Kelly helped me pack, or made me breakfast before I left, or even made the trek to the airport to see me off. I try not to take these small kindnesses for granted. After he kisses me good-bye, he always looks me in the eye and says, “You’re good. I love you,” and I try to take that in and tuck it away somewhere safe. It helps me.
Only after I’m far away from the safety of his presence do I realize how much of a safe encouraging little world Kelly and I have created for one another in just three months. I mean, we’re not the freak-hermit couple that never leaves the house. We’re often out and about with friends. We’re also not the couple that only hangs out in public as a couple. About a third of the time, he’s meeting up with a friend without me, and I’m meeting up with someone without him. We’re not in a one of those relationship bubbles that end on an episode of “Snapped.” But there is something there, some intangible line of emotional support that runs from wherever he is to wherever I am, and back again.
When I leave, that line feels strained. Everything Kelly and I have talked about that empowers me, liberates me, or makes me feel infinitely loved is suddenly much harder to tap into. It’s as if the change in geography incites an emotional regression. It’s not loneliness that creeps up on me, but doubt. When I flew to Austin to be on a panel for Real Simple Magazine, I spent most of the time in my hotel room, ordering room service, and watching HGTV. It was definitely relaxing, but it was also a symptom of my sudden belief that everyone “out there” was cooler than me, smarter than me, and actually knew what they were doing. In that moment, my own confidence and love of self wasn’t enough. I needed reinforcement, and unfortunately, I’d lost touch with the line.
Something similar happens when I visit home. Kelly is my buffer. In the midst of my family’s playful barbs (which I’ve always been a little too sensitive to stand), he is there, shaking his head along with me, noticing my forced smile, and mouthing, I love you. When he’s not there, I attempt to picture his mouth molding into the shapes that form the supportive “I love you,” and it doesn’t have the same calming effect. My therapist says this is because no matter how deeply supported I may feel, what is true for myself and lots of other people, is that there is nothing quite like being in an emotionally tough moment when someone you love squeezes your hand. I think she meant it to be a good or sweet thing, but honestly, I never wanted to be this person again.
My independent streak runs long and steady, with a few slight bumps. Being this affected by someone else’s touch or presence is nerve-wracking. I’ve been here before with someone who toyed with the fact that he could influence my emotions. He would make me cry because he wanted to see if he still could, or withhold physical affection for arbitrary reasons, just to see what it did to me or how desperate I would become to figure out what I’d done wrong. I don’t believe Kelly would do those things, but I’ve put myself in the right position to find out, haven’t I? Technically, it’s what I signed up for. But the fear is real. Kelly will only become even more ingrained in my life, and if things don’t turn out the way we hope they will, this is all going to come crashing down on my head, isn’t it?
That’s one way to think about it, I suppose. Each time I get on another plane without him, I’m reminded that this could all go away. All the work we’ve done to be more vulnerable, be more patient, and love this person the way they need to be loved, it could all be for nothing. But is it really for nothing? Is getting over your fear of allowing someone to really see you and really affect you ever for nothing? Being with Kelly in our home means reading silently in our living room until he has a thought he wants to discuss, or I need a minute to sit on his lap and stare out the window. It means brazen nudity, even on the days when I can’t stop listing everything I think is wrong with my body. It means cooking together, shopping together, and plotting our next adventure. It means feeling, for the first time, I have a real safety net, and somehow, there are no strings attached. I don’t want to push him away because of what might fall out of the sky.
Two weekends ago, I took a yoga class with my friend Jennifer Pastiloff. Between poses, she shared this quote from Freud: “How bold one gets when one is sure of being loved.” As worried and self-critical as I become as soon as my plane lands too many miles from Kelly, I have to remember it’s the little world we created that got me here. I have always been brave, and I have always been willful, but knowing he and I are partners makes me bold. I’ve never said yes to myself more. I’ve never said yes to adventures more. That’s what love—his love—has done for me. That doesn’t mean I’m not afraid. That fear with always probably be somewhere toiling around inside me.
I’ve decided that fear is welcome to a seat on the plane, but the cockpit is off limits.
Tags: ashley ford, disrupting domesticity, the butter
Well this made me sadder about being single than anything has in a long time.
By that I mean it is very good.
I don’t want you to be sad! But thank you for the kind words. Also, being single is when I figured out what I REALLY wanted in a partner. Because I wasn’t distracted by having one.
Hehe it’s OK! I did enjoy reading it because it kind of helped me fantasize about what a good relationship would actually look like for me. I think I am mostly at the point where I do understand what I want in a relationship and won’t settle for less, which is great but I’m still waiting for it to come around. It’s still fun rejecting all the ‘less’ in the meantime but I get impatient :).
This remains a lovely series.
But man, has my reaction to happy relationship pieces changed lately. Great writing, excuse me while I go elsewhere to feel sad now.
Thank you for the kind words, and I wish it didn’t make you feel sad. I hope one day that isn’t true.
Having recently realized I’ve never had a healthy relationship, this is going on my virtual pinboard as ‘Inspiration.’ The idea that something this mutually supportive and nurturing exists is just, wow. Mind-blowing.
Returning to read and seeing this old comment, I have to add I have now found this relationship. Tearing up. Thanks Ashley.
I like this series and its thoughtfulness, and that the author is reflecting on herself rather than being all “MY BF IS GREAT” (although sometimes I get that a little bit and it makes me sad and jealous). It would be great to roll out more pieces about cohabiting with a partner, especially those that happened under less-than-ideal circumstances and then went well or didn’t. I feel like there are a lot of perspectives here I would love to hear about, since I’m already really enjoying Ashley’s pieces.
I think that’s a great idea! Maybe eventually I could use my column to interview other cohabitators?
Beautifully written.
Thank you!
This was beautiful! I’m about to take a big leap into the unknown with someone who I care very deeply about and with whom it is possible to take more risks than I had ever imagined……..
….. but it is still kinda terrifying.
So I’m going to read this again and again, and take heart.
Yes, my dear, take heart again and again and again. It won’t always be easy, and won’t always end well, but you have a shot at it being worth your time.
“Kelly will only become even more ingrained in my life, and if things don’t turn out the way we hope they will, this is all going to come crashing down on my head, isn’t it?”
God, I remember this feeling I had about my relationship a few months ago. I suddenly felt like I was in a car with my boyfriend, driving from somewhere familiar out into an uncertain landscape. We’d come a really long way (nearly 4 years of driving), and now, even if I wanted to get out of the car, I wouldn’t know where I was or how to get somewhere safe. But what if I didn’t want to be driving with him anymore?
Relationships take us places, and we can’t stand still in them. It’s scary (it was terrifying to me at the time), but it’s also incredible. Good luck.
Thank you for the luck, and same to you. I find there’s nothing special about my experiences, they’re pretty universal. We all just have our own stories.
I’ve been silently reading this series and all the while comparing what you are going through with Kelly with what my own journey looks like with Jon. So much of what you are discovering about yourself and about what genuine love looks and feels like is exactly what I’m discovering in my relationship. Our paths are very similar.
It’s interesting because I figured some of this stuff out a long time ago. I ‘knew” what love was suppose to be. I knew how it was suppose to make you feel. But knowing it and having the courage to actually experience it are two very different things. I praise you for having the courage to embrace it but also for having the maturity to do it in a thoughtful way.
This made me tear up, in a good way. Thank you for writing this.
This made me tear up, in a good way. Thank you for writing this.
Yes, this is exactly what it’s like, yes. Thank you.
This is a weirdly timely article. I have also lived with my partner for 3 months and she is off on a work trip in Africa for a month. I’ve been single and happy, in long distance relationships and happy, but I’ve gotten used to having that love and joy to come home to every day and now everything seems a little greyer while she is away. I’m trying not to be annoyed with myself! I feel I shouldn’t be like this because I was just fine before.
I love these so far. There are so many different ways to write about unhappiness that are compelling. It’s so much harder to write about relationships that are going well, and I have so much respect for you managing to do this thing that is so difficult so well.
“My independent streak runs long and steady, with a few slight bumps. Being this affected by someone else’s touch or presence is nerve-wracking.” I can’t even describe the countless hours, weeks, months I wasted in my relationship with my current husband agonizing over this. I HATED the vulnerability that was part and parcel of loving him as much as I did.
I felt goosebumps rise on the back of my neck a few times while reading this: it’s always eerie to read someone present emotions you have struggled to explain to your therapist in such an unyielding yet elegant way. It is such a pleasure to read your work. That eerie feeling, without a doubt, cuts to core of both my obsessive love for reading and lifelong yearning for writing. Thank you.