Fella and I attended a wedding last weekend. It was quite the event- on the Hudson River in New York City, four course seated dinner, beautiful flowers... but what struck me was the ceremony. The couple had written the entire ceremony themselves, and though I had never met either of them before that weekend, by the end of the night I felt I knew them well because they were able to incorporate so many personal elements. One thing was quite remarkably clear-- these two were madly in love. Madly in love, in that maybe I should write this down because I don't want to ever forget a single word that comes out of his brilliant mouth sort of way. Can't keep our hands off each other sort of way. The world stops when she walks through the door sort of way. Want to voice every thought and feeling we ever have sort of way. It was lovely, and sweet, and really very moving.
I started thinking, naturally, about the wedding Fella and I will have. About our relationship. And about how I feel like I am not capable of THAT kind of feeling. I love Fella, I think he's a really good man. He makes me laugh, he's smart, and he's kind. And I worry that he's getting the short end of the deal here. I mean, he thinks I'm all that and a bag of chips, so he's pleased with this arrangement, don't get me wrong. But am I depriving him of that kind of relationship? His childhood friend just married a woman that looked at him like he hung the moon up in the sky just for her... But Fella gets a woman that looks at him with cautious optimism. Because I'm broken.
I used to be that girl. I was wide open- honest and naked and completely and totally vulnerable. We all know that didn't turn out so well, and I think it's not unreasonable that I'm guarded. But.
I honestly don't know if the wall will ever come all the way down. I'm not keeping it up on purpose, and I don't keep him a little bit at arm's length consciously, but... It is happening. I'm protective of my soft places, and I'm a protective of my individual, separate life. We've discussed this before.
When my phone beeps, if he picks it up and reads the text on the screen before handing me the phone I immediately feel a bit violated. Not because there is anything in that text that I don't want him to see, but it irks me that he would read it. It's not to him. I have to remind myself that he just likes to know all about me, it's just his way, he's not trying to control anything. It's not like he's snooping, he's just infinitely curious and wants to know all about me and all the people in my life. I'm not that way-- self-absorption or self-protection, I don't know, but either one, I'm not all that interested in other people. I purposefully do not mention any little stories about a friend to him, because he will continue to ask about that friend and that situation forever. I tell myself it's protecting that friend's privacy, but sometimes it's really just because I don't like to share every corner of my life.
What if the wall never comes down? What if he's stuck battling my defense mechanism forever? What if I'm irreparably broken?