I made a vow when I started this blog that I wouldn’t discuss my personal life here very often.  Or at least if I did, it wouldn’t be in grand amounts of detail.  I’ve been outed before.  It’s not fun.  And some of the people I’m involved with would also consider it, not quite so fun to be outed.

But one thing this past weekend is honestly too big to hold back on.  Here I am three years after the fact, facing a return to my spiritual husband.   It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.  We broke up two years ago…but in my mind it was really three.  It was three years ago our relationship started to seriously deteriorate.  As that was happening, I was adding two new relationships to my life: one had been in the wings for quite some time and the other was accelerated on a timeline I couldn’t foresee.  And my spiritual husband and I both were caught up in the waves of the latter.  Crashing, crushing waves that I had not encountered with anyone other than this spiritual husband.  Initially he was supportive of all those relationships, but then the relationships (both local) were quickly overshadowing what he and I held together. There were a lot of other factors at play, not the least of which was our own pride and resentment brewing under the surface.  But the events of July 2008 forever changed the rules of the game and set us on a path that only served to push us away from each other.

And the wedge of resentment was so very strong.  Walls went up quicker than either of us had the power to eliminate (and we are both quite skilled at it).  For the first time in a long time, when we talked we didn’t listen because we both insisted that the other wasn’t hearing us.  So we just talked louder.  And more forcefully.  And louder still.

Until we could hear nothing but the hollow echo of our own emptiness.

I may never fully comprehend what happened back then. I know that I went through a massive emotional and spiritual reboot.  And I know that I couldn’t have done that if he and I had still been together.  Even as things shifted and changed, we were holding true to these perverse assumptions we had about each other.  You know the ones, the ones where the “other” is actually the villain.  This is not what we believed in.  And yet it happened.

It happened because it needed to happen.  I’m a big believer in “everything has a purpose” and this was no different.  Both of us have changed significantly over the years, without much involvement from the other party at least.  So when he announced he and his kids and girlfriend would be coming to town, I had to rely pretty extensively on what I’ve developed in myself over the past three years.  I was nervous and terrified and radically honest with myself about what I could handle and what I couldn’t.

…you know how people tell you emphatically to never, ever get back together with your ex?

Yeah, I ignored that advice and I’m glad I did.

Because the part where we got to talk without kids, without responsibilities weighing us down was amazing.  It was honest and sincere.  We were both holding a little back, but we recognized it for what it was and moved onward with an initial amount of trust.

And when we kissed, the cosmic forces seem to shine their approval.  Was it really a break-up if we both still loved each other that immensely?  Was it really a break if we both had hurt each other that much?  All I know is in those magic hours under moonlight and stars, we remembered who we really are together.  All the immense pleasures and joys we bring to each other’s lives and how deeply and immediately we feel that connection.

I don’t have words for what we are and I’m reluctant to name any, particularly at this stage.  All I know is that I felt like a part of my soul snapped back into place and I feel inspired and alive again.  We will have to create new images, new ideas to truly describe where we are now and who we are to each other.

… but Love fits.  Always has and no matter what we endure alone or apart it always will.