Keeping My Enemies Far

He squeezes above my knee and I felt myself flinch, close up, fill with rage. "This is the third time," I think to myself, "I told him I don't want to be touched like that."

But I don't want to rage at him.

There was a time in my life when rage was the only option, and in this moment I can feel the draw of that heat, as I feel the weak, pathetic, humiliation of my grief and overwhelm coming through, as I have invited them to do time and time again.

I let my closedness melt open and cry all the sorrow of having my body poked and prodded constantly in my childhood, never safe from being tickled and pinched, always provoked into reaction, not allowed peace.

This is what my ex husband meant, when he said "I'm not your step father!"

He didn't mean I was confused about who he was or how he was treating me.

He meant that I was treating him like an enemy who was actively intending to disrupt, control, and contort my experience. He could not innocently miss the mark with me. He could only be intentionally violating me, and I met him like he was intentionally violating me, even with passive things he had no control over, like how many hours he worked through the night.

It's been over ten years since I committed to truly loving him and left our marriage as an expression of that love.

I've carried that commitment in to loving every other man I select to interact closely with.

If I let him in close, I do not treat him as an enemy, because I know I do not let my enemies in close.

I never did let my enemies in close. My enemies were only close when I was a child because I couldn't get away.

I see it now, as I simply cry and he holds me tenderly. I have no accusations to make, no fight to stake or win or lose. I am at an extremity of feeling. He didn't mean to startle me. He is not my enemy, he is not interested in disrupting my peace or disrespecting my preferences. He is innocently offering love, and someone else's violation has ruined the ability for his real love to land for me.

I see the way my reclamation of the belief that those who are close to me are my loving, caring friends is the only thing that could allow me to experience it as true, to respond in a way they can love, to respond in a way that allows their love to land as love for me.

My sorrow flows freely and invites him to hold me tenderly. My rage would shove him away.

I could make every argument to justify meeting him with rage, but I can't argue that it would bring me the RESULT I truly desire.

I desire to be in love, I desire to show up in collaboration, I desire to have responsibility for the experience I cocreate with each person. I desire to be authentic to the soul of what is happening for me, and as I commit to this, I watch the stories lose relevance and fall away.

I feel what I feel and show what I feel. I am palpable and open and soft because I trust that I have filled my life with people who can and will cherish that.

Mostly, these days, I don't even find that intensity of feeling—practices of compatibility and abundant boundaries keep me sweetly within range. I dumped out so much of my body's ancient grief in my last relationship, and it's really actually gone, simply not there anymore. So much background fear and anxiety is noticeably absent from my daily life, as compared to 4 years ago.

Triggers like this happened twice total in close relationship with this man, and we sweetly adjusted to have a little more distance. I deeply appreciate and enjoy his friendship these days. I seek his presence and our conversation frequently.

A lovership was too close, given how he offers love and what I receive of those offers—and every bit of that is innocent fact.

I know it is my responsibility to stay where the standard offers give me an experience that is within my range. I know that what puts me outside my range is offered innocently, as much a generous gift as anything else.

I fall in love frequently.
And I rarely face heartbreak.
If the love is true, there's always a right distance to stand to keep it flowing.