I’ve never actually liked spring. At least, in Minnesota, spring is very much a gamble. Some days are warm and the birds are singing, but the next day there’s a freak snowstorm and you can’t move your car.
Two years ago this time, a professor and I were discussing the seasons. After I’d mentioned my distaste for spring, she told me that spring is the emotion of anger in Chinese medicine. It makes sense if you think about it how much volatile energy there is regarding birth and new beginnings of life.
It put into context my lifelong discomfort with spring…
but that year it meant something a bit more.
During this particular spring, I was going through the last legs of a gnarly breakup with someone with whom I’d shared a torrid romance on and off for about four years. He was living out of state and though he was moving on, I refused to give up and instead clung desperately to something dead and tainted for much longer than was necessary. Getting over him was a strenuous ordeal and realizing I’d never again have him in my life was a terror I refused to face. So…
I fought it foolishly.
Understand that we’d set a behavioral standard with one another in the past where we’d constantly scrape and crawl back to one another after a period of distance. This repetitive dependence was all we knew. For him to finally break free and stand against the tide went against everything I knew to be “normal”. I also thought that was just how love worked: that it was a desperately cinematic affair, fraught with passion and tragedy.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to love again. I was exhausted and broken, worn thin to the bones and unable to stand tall or extend a gesture of vulnerability.
However, I found my new beginning in someone whom I believed to be a very unlikely candidate at first (another story for another time). A series of intriguing circumstances have led me to where I am now: in a respectful and healthy relationship with a man who is my best friend, partner in crime, and embodies goodness in every way possible. Instead of breaking me, he builds me up. There’s no room for manipulation or bullshit.
This is what love should look and act like.
I hope to be at his side for as long as possible. Without a doubt, he is the love of my life.
My new beginning was born at the death of an era, in grounds I deemed infertile. And, like me, you may be surprised how new beginnings find you.
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