17 Sep relationship manifesto
Last year I {re}committed to not dating for {another} year. Remember that? It was exciting. It was on the heels of an already committed three hundred and sixty-five days of intentional not dating. My heart still in a pile on the floor, I took my friend—I use the term “friend” loosely—Andy Stanley’s advice and committed to another 365 days of no dating. Two whole years of not dating when my “eggs are drying up,” I “am not getting any younger!!” and “time was running out!” sounded like a great idea. (I have excellent selective hearing.) It was not scary or brave or weird at the time. It was necessary.
As much as I wanted to believe otherwise, I was still a broken mess. I had so much work to do to get my heart back to healthy condition for any {friendship or otherwise} relationship. And I am not talking about more cardio. I needed deep soul care. This past year has not at all been about not dating. In fact, I have hardly thought of it except for when my people got pushy about me dating or that one time, with that one guy that just left me frazzled. Other than that it has not even been a “thing.”
But now it is.
Now it is a thing, because I had a breakthrough a few weeks ago where I realized I wanted people back in my world. (whaaaa!? “No man is an island”…forever I tell you. It is not good for us.) I discovered myself lamenting about my lack of super close friends who knew my heart. I wanted a guy to look at me and say, “I see you wholly and I love you.” (Ok, maybe I don’t really want a man to say that just yet because umm….time. Time is a good thing.) I realized I wanted to be let in on others worlds, but in order to do that I had to be willing to allow others into mine. (Side note: I do actually have in-real-life-friends but about two years ago many of them were scattered across the US and my geographically immediate community of people in my season of life dissolved.)
Here is what they don’t teach you about trauma:
In order to survive, your heart goes under padlock, in a steel box, on a shelf, with a key lock, in the back of a closet, in the basement, under the stairs. While you are fighting like hell upstairs to survive, you lock that tender little guy up. It is the only way to survive. And as much as you may think that your survival of that really hard thing was the most difficult thing you will ever go through…it is not.
The hardest part of the hard parts in life is not the surviving, it is opening the door, going down into the basement, opening the door to the closet, taking the box off the shelf, finding that key to unlock the box, taking your heart out, and, finally, being willing to unlock that padlock so you can share your heart with others once again.
The hardest part of the hard parts of life is the unwrapping, the unveiling of your still fragile heart that can only truly be wholly healed within the context of community when you begin letting others pack in pieces of their own hearts to make yours whole again.
That shit is terrifying.
There is the option to keep your heart buried down there for the foreseeable future and—for all intents and purposes–”pretend” your way through loving someone. But eventually…that will bite you in the ass too. Trust me.
So you dig up the keys. And you move forward.
Despite all the work I have done over the past two years, the past two months have been some of the hardest. (Spoiler alert: Wanting authentic relationships while simultaneously not trusting anyone does not work.)
The worst is that you do not know if someone is truly worthy of your trust until you have trusted them with a little bit of yourself. It is the nature of the game. Ok, I am lying. Sorry. The worst is that there are absolutely no guarantees. Eventually you have to choose to trust even at the risk of being hurt. (Fact: you will get hurt again. Another fact: You are also stronger than before.)
As my season of “taking a break from dating” comes to an end while simultaneously occurring with my move to East Atlanta—where I want to build ridiculously amazing community with friends, I give you a relationship manifesto…
As I open my heart to others {female/male friends + potential-for-more-friends}:
- I guard my heart, but do not live a life of guardedness.
- I hold healthy boundaries (as defined by me & the experts).
- I am fully myself & do not apologize for my story—because I have already apologized & been forgiven by all those I owe an explanation.
- I allow others the opportunity to earn their way into the deepest, greatest parts of me.
- I LAUGH at myself and life and know it is not that serious.
- I am slow to speak, slow to judge, and quick to have fun.
- I do not play games in anyway (the manipulative kind where the other person does not necessarily know you are playing a game, not the everyone-is-in-on-the playing kind.)
- I am wise from my mistakes, but not dictated by them.
- I have standards and expectations (that not everyone will live up to all the time) and know that is okay.
- I listen to my own freaking brilliant intuition.
- I am gentle, gracious, integrity-filled, and respectful with both my heart and the hearts’ of others.
- I enjoy other people and believe other people enjoy me!
- I do not believe lies of shame that keep me hidden & small, nor do I live in fear that the people I love will walk away at any given moment.
- I recognize the risk of vulnerability & choose it as my standard anyways, because I believe it to be of utmost importance.
- [And, just in case this ever becomes enticing, because I have seen women do it without even realizing…] I will not use my body as a weapon or bait. I will not sleep with you to make you feel better or to make me feel better. I will not hold your hand just to stave off loneliness or kiss you so I do not hurt your feelings.
- I will honor myself for who God designed me to be and I will do the same for you. I will expect the same in return and—out of respect for both you and me—I will be okay if that means I walk away when the respect is not mutual.
I think I might be onto something. We shall see. I have a friend who told me that one day I would be ready to take my “keep away” sign down from my forehead and that my world would radically change when I did. I am ready to prove him right.
What do you say? Join me for coffee? Ok, fine. I’m a fraud. I actually do not like coffee. Tea? I like tea. Join me for tea? How are you letting others into your world? What do you think? What is missing from my manifesto? Would you take any part out?
“There is no greater threat to the critics, and cynics, and fearmongers than those of us who are willing to fall because we’ve learned how to rise. With skinned knees and bruised hearts we choose owning our stories of struggle over hiding, over hustling, over pretending.We are the authors of our lives. We write our own daring endings. We craft love from heartbreak, compassion from shame, grace from disappointment, courage from failure. Showing up is our power, story is our way home, truth is our song. We are the brave and brokenhearted. We are rising strong.” [B. Brown, “Rising Strong]
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