We cannot rescue another person. We should not try. We can stand beside them, or just outside the perimeter of their burning building, and let them know we are holding loving-kindness for them. It's painful, to be in the gap. But sometimes, it's just where we are.
My movie is undergoing a serious rewrite at the moment. Scenes are being deleted, edited, and new actors are being sought out for both lead and supporting roles. Today, on this amazingly beautiful day (from snow last night to tennis in shorts this afternoon) I'm going to loaf for a bit.
How do you self-regulate when you are dating? When things start going REALLY WELL, how do you moderate yourself? If you're a super-sensual person, is it harder for you to say "no" to the intoxicating high of sex and the love hormones?
Like a broken arm that heals stronger than before it was broken, what if your big love can come back with more resilience, more compassion, more flexibility when things go dark? That's the plan.
I can forgive and still love each of these women in their various states of disrepair. I can walk away knowing I brought my best game into their lives. I can walk away with my heart still on my sleeve, because that's how I go through life. And I can refind my hopefulness.
There is no bridge that's going to make our relationship work again, so my longing necessarily stayed in my own heart. There is no sense in sharing our desires and hopes when the other person is not available. It only makes it hurt worse.
But, with each of my last three relationships, I learned some fundamental truths about myself in a relationship. I am not surprised that dating has little or no allure. I had such a wonderful partner. I learned what if felt like to be loved with abandon and openness. And I learned how far I could go before I broke down over the disconnections that continued to happen.
It is not our job to fix broken relationships or broken people. Our job is to show up in the arena of a relationship and do the best we possibly can to love and be loved.