Relationship Status

I did it. I changed my relationship status on Facebook.

It’s not even something that you—or anyone but me—can see. Much of my personal info on Facebook has been “private” since the beginning of time. (Or since the beginning of Facebook, which is more or less the same thing.) But this morning I noticed it, glaring at me: In a relationship.

Um, buh-bye.

Not too long ago, until my life took a sharp turn, my Facebook relationship status was right. Then, with one phone call, it wasn’t.

Friends ask—sometimes impatiently—if I’ve moved on.

They ask with love and hope in their hearts, and I understand. But “letting go” is harder than it sounds. It seems like it should be free-flowing and easy, like something you do at the end of a yoga class after a long exhale. But hey—I suck at yoga, too.

Feelings linger, deep in every groove of me. I still love the person who hurt me. I have a shocking amount of compassion for him. And I’m not sure whether that’s big hearted of me, or emotionally dangerous, or just plain dumb.

But slowly, I’m moving forward. Sometimes I beat myself up for not being better at “doing the work.” Then I realize the work is happening within me, all the time. Every day is a new step. And when leaps happen, they happen in a big way.

Take yesterday, for example.

Yesterday, I went on a long morning hike in the post-storm sun. The strong Bura wind had cleared the skies remarkably, and it gave me clarity, too. Exploring the far end of the island, I found messages from Mother Nature. Vistas and visions of what I want and deserve.

I’m not ready to find someone new. Not yet. But I will be, and maybe sooner than I think. Yesterday, Mother Nature helped me define what’s important when I do.

I want someone who isn’t afraid to jump in and go deep. (Metaphorically. I’m deathly afraid of heights.)

Who understands why my favorite color is blue.

Who seeks out texture and variety, the way that I do.

Who won’t put me on a pedestal, but will climb atop with me. Lending a hand when I need it, and taking mine in return.

Who will be my port in a storm. (So sappy, I know. That’s romance, people.)

Who isn’t discouraged by turbulent seas.

Who understands that every heart has a story. One that’s longing to be told.

Who can see the light through the trees.

Who believes that walls are surmountable. There’s always a way over or through.

Who is energized by forks in the road. And often makes his own.

Who appreciates that my way is to climb the rocks or swim across. Screw the easy road that’s just behind us.

Who will follow me, and fight for me, to the ends of the earth. Or maybe find me there in the first place.

Mother Nature did miss a few things.

Like that fact that he should be smart, single, kind, and clever. Healthy, athletic, and a non-smoker. Honest. Handsome, in a strong and unique sort of way. Younger than me is OK; shorter than me isn’t. Kids? Bring ‘em. He should have charisma, without being cocky. We should have chemistry—that crazy, inexplicable, can’t-live-without-you kind.

Too much to expect? You tell me.

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