(About where love actually begins)
I was in an intense marital crisis. I fervently sought answers, help, counseling, solace… And it was very hard for me. Not bad. Hard. Sometimes, 'hardship' weighs heavier than pain.
I felt the burden of not understanding what was happening. And two pairs of little eyes were looking at me. Sometimes scared, because the eyes in front of them were almost always searching for answers. Searching…
Looking back, I realize there were quite rare moments in my life when I desired something to happen with such fervor. Or to understand what was happening.
My most 'tender' memory is from around 8–9 years old, when I desperately wanted a bicycle. I desired it with all the tension of a child who was always moving and only found peace in nature. Only by moving. (Yes, there was a lot of hyperactivity.)
And I didn't want it for a day or two, then to forget. No. I wanted it for about a year.
So much so that at night I dreamt I had the bike. And in the morning I didn't want to wake up, so it wouldn't disappear. I knew I couldn't bring the bike into this world. So I preferred to stay in the world of dreams to have it.
But, one night, my bike dream was different. A 'real' dream.
And in the morning, when I woke up, I no longer wanted to stay in the dream. I had, somehow, the conviction that I would have it in reality too.
And so it was.
That afternoon, the neighbor decided to give me his sons' bicycle, as they had outgrown it. He had seen me 'riding' my grandpa's bike when he visited us.
What am I saying, riding… I was performing acrobatics. The bike had a frame. I wasn't big enough. So I put my leg under the frame and, leaning diagonally, rode the bike. Many from my generation know that trick. It was… peanuts, as an Englishman would say.
And it was the same now, when the marriage seemed very shaken.
At one point, I was trying to figure out if it wasn't, perhaps, the beginning of the end.
But then I realized something.
I don't want it to be one way or the other.
I don't want us to divorce either.
Nor to stay together.
What I want is to settle myself.
To gather myself.
To understand myself.
And to understand.
When the tension was at its peak, the outcome wasn't what was interesting. But rather what was hidden behind it.
And the moment I no longer focused on the other person, I realized that, behind it all… it was me.
Me with myself.
With my weaknesses.
With my pains.
With my shortcomings.
With my frustrations.
With my yearnings.
With my dreams.
With my memories.
With my unshed tears.
With my impatience.
I understood that the misunderstanding was not something external that had invaded my interior.
On the contrary.
It sprang from within. And it had grown. A lot. More and more. Until it had overrun, like a wicked weed, the entire flower garden.
Everything I hadn't understood within myself, had grown within me.
That's how I stopped seeing the beauty in my children's smiles. The blessing of family. The care of loved ones.
That's how I ended up turning, sullen, my back on God.
Like a child who, if they don't understand something, means that thing doesn't exist.
I didn't understand how God was helping me either. So I concluded that He wasn't helping me in any way. And that, sometimes, He even made jokes at my expense… especially when I was making plans.
And, just like with the bicycle, I woke up one morning, during that overwhelming period, with a thought.
So vivid. So intense. So real.
It was as if someone was speaking next to me.
„Love is in the relationship”.
It was so clear that everything within me went silent. It fascinated me. It was, just like then, an affirmation. An undeniable truth.
A kind of: „Here you go, here's your answer. Now you, too, have patience…” .
And I did.
Until I understood what it was about, I obviously went a bit off track.
I thought it was about the relationship with my husband.
I turned it over in every way. But what I understood didn't calm me.
And I exercised a little more patience.
And then, more.
And then, again, a little more…
Finally, I understood.
And peace settled. Like the petals of blossoming trees in spring.
That's right. Love is in the relationship.
And the beginning of all relationships is the relationship with oneself. The way you meet yourself becomes the way you meet others.
And even the relationship with God goes through this: through the way you are with yourself. If you are not authentic with yourself, you cannot be authentic in any relationship.
How well do you know yourself?
How much do you dwell within yourself, not outside yourself?
How do you approach prayer?
As a form? Or as a living truth of your own?
Many times we are just forms. Holograms.
Diluted by ourselves.
Transparent. Unsuited to our own lives.
And, when the curtain falls, it hurts.
Now I understand something.
It wasn't the pain that was important.
But the gain that the pain brought me.
The relationship with myself.
Daniela Costache
Personal and educational development counselor
Photography by Tabitha Favor pexels.com