Steel

"The strongest steel goes through the hottest fire," as the saying goes. I know I am not a perfect person - no one can be (regardless of what Dan or Angi have to say about it). But I feel like I improve with regularity - a consistency of personal growth that makes me feel like my life has meaning even in those times when I can't figure out my purpose.

With every failure, I try to find a lesson in defeat. I try to figure out what went wrong, what my weaknesses are, and how to fix them so that I don't fail again.

Relationships have been my biggest failing, despite having put such immense effort forth in them. And I know the reason.

It wouldn't surprise her to find that my greatest weakness is one that Angi has warned me of for years, though it might surprise her to hear me say it myself: I neglect my own needs. I have immense pride in who I am, and I have a very strong awareness of myself, but I frequently put the needs of others over my own.

I would wager that if you scoured this blog, you'd find similar revelations at other trying moments in my life. This isn't a new discovery. Nor are the promises to help myself new, either. I do not follow through on my commitments to myself. Because, too often, I fall into the same pattern of "superhero syndrome" - flying off to rescue someone else before I've built my own proper foundation on which to stand.

It's no surprise then that when things get rough, my relationships struggle. When neither person has built their own strong base, our life together is destined to fail.

"And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand." - Matthew 7:26

2011 has not yet shown itself to be the best year for me. But I feel there is potential in it, and in me to make it a great year.

I thank my friends and family, who have been so supportive of me, to prod me when I appear apathetic to my task at hand - building myself a life worthy of the energy I've spent these last ten years. I am establishing for myself a 100-day plan that is intended to result in a better quality of life for myself.

I can accomplish it, if I focus on building my own solid foundation. When the time is right, after I've built a life for myself, then I can focus on building a greater one with someone else.

Today is for me.

Seeking Refuge in Words

I have at many times in my life felt sad, depressed, and lonely. In those times, I've often turned to writing for solace - comfort found in the ability to put my thoughts to words, for all the world to see, or no one but myself. I still have my letters to no one from the period after John left me; here in the archived journals of nearly the past ten years, you could find many days of sorrow.

Right now, words give me no comfort. My mind finds no peace in organizing the chaotic storm of thoughts that fill my head. In this moment, I am simply numb, and my hands perform a task of stenography to record for posterity what is happening.

I expected that if this moment came I would be more heartbroken - perhaps I will be later. Right now, though, I feel as though this was to be expected. John, William, Stephen and Stephen. A consistent string of un-successes - not failures, but rather misplayed romances. These loves held infinite possibilities, but never reached them because there existed in each a great imbalance.

It is said that "The person who cares least in a relationship has the most power," and I know that is true. I have only taken one opportunity to empower myself against that kind of imbalance, and it was the choice to end my last relationship.

This time, however, there is a stranger force at work against me. It's not the simplicity of a personal selfishness - the typical catalyst for a breakup. It's something more complex and sinister. It's a fractured psyche - a beautiful mind and soul overwhelmed by the torments of his past, and preventing him from seeing a future.

Unfortunately for him, it doesn't just prevent him from seeing a future with me, but from seeing a future with anyone. He may not know this now, but then as far as I can tell, I'm the only person he's had moderate success dating in almost two years, and it is probably because I'm not like most people - I have significantly more patience and understanding in the failings of others than do most.

I think that this is why I'm not more hurt. I understand that he is in ten kinds of pain, with no relief in sight. He can't make the commitment that I want, but he desires a friendship with me that transcends the platonic - our friendship was built upon love, and most of its base was constructed by me. As someone who loves him dearly, I'm afraid of what will happen when I'm not here - I've constructed a pretty good idea of what his life was like before we became friends, and to think of him slumping back into a habit of compulsive self-medication, with no regard for his own sense of self-worth (or perhaps as a deranged attempt to inflate that value), bothers me tremendously. And it is all hidden behind a bullshit facade in the form of a mindless mantra - "I want to live with no regrets."

I spoke to a friend of mine recently who went through troubles of her own with her military husband. When we talked of our significant others' personalities, their behaviors were almost mirrored - an inability to talk about their problems, building emotional barriers, compulsive self-medication (in the form of sex), under-appreciating the people who care for them ... and a "no regrets" philosophy.

I'm generous when I call it a philosophy. The concept of "living with no regrets," is a misapplied notion in this instance. The people who do what he is doing aren't living with no regrets - they're being cavalier about how they lead their lives and they are doing exactly what they propose not to be doing: they're creating pasts that they will later regret, filled with choices and decisions that, in hindsight, were the true mistakes.

Worse than that, though, is that in this instance one could find no pillar of support stronger than myself. My open-minded worldview and long-developed sense of patience in helping others with their problems makes me one person who will never judge a friend for their shortcomings. Even less so would I be inclined to pass judgment upon someone I love.

And I have loved none as dearly as I love Stephen.

For all the barriers he's built around his heart, for all the regressive steps he's taken in the year we've been friends, and for all the hurt he's put upon me, I can see through everything to a soul more beautiful than you could possibly imagine. The moments when his smile is genuine and you can see him relieved of the burdens of the tragedy that haunts him are worth every hour and every day of struggle and pain, because in those moments I see a man who appreciates his life.

He and I have shared many great days together. In counting them, I'd wager that we've spent 90% of the last year together (excluding his time in Seattle and Wichita). We've been inseparable, and a few friends have pointed out how strange it will be that we won't be "Stephen and David" anymore. What a strange thing, that two people - linked so closely in personality and love - could fall apart so quickly.

My worldview, being so open, leaves so much room for possibility that I would never discount the likelihood of us getting back together. However, I don't know that that is going to happen, and given present circumstances, I'd have to view that as unlikely. And things will never go back to the way they were before we started dating because ... well, they never do. When you take this step forward, the only next steps are farther apart or forward again.

John and I stepped farther apart but moved forward again after our breakup. We have become great friends, and he is one of my most trusted confidants. He knows me in a way that no one else will. Angi and I stepped quite far apart and eventually made our way forward again after a particularly nasty fight in our senior year of high school. She is my best friend and most reliable supporter - not because she backs everything I do, but because she's honest in her advice and doesn't judge me when I don't listen to it and inevitably make the mistake she warned me that I could avoid.

I hope that, in whatever form our relationship takes, Stephen and I can move forward. But for now, we move apart. And in every instance, moving forward requires that both people are able to change and grow. I fear that this will be harder for him than for the others, but I know that he is capable of it. He has such great potential in him, and yet he undersells himself constantly.

Whatever happens, I know this: the only thing completely consistent in my life is my willingness to stand by the people I care about. I will be there for him when he needs me, and I'll help him when he reaches out for it. The rest is up to him.

I wish I could do more ... I wish that arguing the point would change his mind. I wish that talking it over would assuage his grief and guilt over loving someone other than the person he's lost. I wish that he would reach out for help, and drop his walls. I wish that everything was as good as it was back in August when we talked for hours on the phone every night. I wish he'd wear the ring I gave him.

I wish he would still be mine.

We don't get everything we wish for, and as I've come to discover in my life, we rarely get anything we wish for. Love is one area where I know this to be the most true. Perhaps that's why this line from Moulin Rouge is so fitting in my life: "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."

I love Stephen, and though my heart wishes for that to be returned the same, for now that will have to be enough.