I discovered another little piece of ugly in me tonight. I am ashamed of this piece. She probably deserves to be drop kicked in the groin. But (alternatively!) here, Piece, take the mic…
One of my lifelong friends got engaged tonight—after eleven years of dating the guy—and I turned my head from the (text message) news with distain. QUICK! Running through all the reasons I just knew it wasn’t going to work out. And why they should not have made this decision. Phah! What are they stupid?? My whole body thought.
I damned their marriage in my own mind before her engagement ring even had a chance to carve a dent in her finger. And it totally makes me feel like a lump of shit to say this out loud but: I AM JEALOUS.
I am jealous of it all. The spotlight, the “announcement,” the sparkly, silly priced ring, the planning, the believing, the making others believe in it, too, the name changing, the name creating, boo la la, I am jealous of picking out linens, and wall paint color, and becoming Mrs. So-in-so, and sharing dreams and bank accounts and bathrobes.
But most of all… I am jealous of their readiness. Their HOPE. Their TRUST. Their LEAP. I crave to be ready for the marriage bit. The wedding bit. The baby bit. The husband bit. But as much as I want it, I’m not ready. It frightens me.
My friend, Monica, asked me recently over ice cream what I fear most in the world. “That I’ll end up like my Mom,” I said. “Devoted, loyal, blindly in love, desperate to salvage a failing relationship, but ultimately incapable. Because he leaves me anyway. He tells me that he never should have married me, that I am crazy, that I was a bad mother. And he happily builds a life with someone else with the tools and the assets that we created together, that we were supposed to realize together. He does this with her. And never looks back with regret. And never credits me for my tolerance, my sacrifice, my forgiveness, my love. He just walks away. And never looks back.”
This is my biggest fear: That I will marry the wrong man. And he will realize it first, and leave me.
So while I crave to be married, I WANT to believe in it, I WANT to trust that I am the future Mrs. James Dean, I want to trust that he wouldn’t do that to me. That he is reliable, loyal, nothing like Dad, I don’t. I don’t know how. I simply don’t know how to trust. Not even for a little bit, not even a little bit.
How do I learn how to trust?? Please. Tell me. How do I learn to trust?