Monika Basile's Blog: Confessions of a Bleeding Heart - Posts Tagged "risk"
On Tiptoes
It was a simple act that won me. It was him being exactly who he was, honest in his fears, gentle in his approach. It was all the little things that make up who we are. The imperfections of a lifetime that instead are vibrant stars that I hang my heart on.
I can’t pinpoint every little instance when there are so many. The list of “reasons” in adoring him is never ending. It is the impression of Barney Fife in the most inappropriate moments saying the most inappropriate things. It is his way of fumbling through when he is saying something important and confusing me as he talks in circles. It is the mess he leaves next to the bed of a hundred freeze pop wrappers and toothpicks I stab my feet on, the pillows scattered on the floor and his pile of junk from his pockets littering the nightstand. It is that he forgets things constantly but never anything important that I tell him. It is that he reaches out in the night to take my hand. It is that he listens to the television at full blast but watches something cheerful to fall asleep to. It is that he is consistent in his caring for me, in his concern, in his thoughts of me. It is that we don’t have to do anything but be together to be happy. It is him bringing his mother here in the midst of my mess and shouting and laughing, “Hey clean up, Mom’s here” and not giving a damn that she sees me at my worst because he thinks my worst is still pretty damn great. It is his kindness and his patience and that he sings the theme from “Rawhide” at the top of his lungs every time he watches it.
It is most frightening that it can possibly be this easy because nothing in my life has ever been easy. It has taken me a while to understand that it is actually supposed to be this easy—this quiet—this peaceful—this pleasant. It is so much more than I ever thought was possible, more than I ever imagined or dreamed. Everything is falling apart around me and he is there, not running, even when he is scared, he is there. Outsiders looking in I am sure say, “These people are a mess. Their lives in disarray and catastrophe…” It’s true. Most things in either of our lives have not gone as planned and there is much that I wish could be changed for either of us but when he looks at me I know he doesn’t see that. He sees all the real things I am instead. When I look at him I see all he is and the wonder fills me.
I don’t want to fail him. I worry about it—that I will somehow disappoint him. I am just me—and it seems to be good enough but I feel like I want to be so much more for him. I know there will come a time when I create a terrible sort of disappointment, or when he does, yet, I somehow think we will get through that. I hope we do.
In the oddest confusion of his words spinning in circles, I had these fears. I thought he wanted to dump me and he instead surprised me with, “I don’t want to break up. I’m trying to tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you and I am scared out of my mind.” Wow. Me too. It is scary—this whole thing, the real deal is terribly scary. Both of us tentatively putting each other’s hearts in the other’s hands and hoping and praying it will be tenderly held.
We have past lives and past loves and moments that scarred us and twisted our thoughts of ourselves. Most people who have come out of relationships look at the next one as a chasm almost too deep to tightrope walk across. There are no nets beneath to catch us. There is only this faith, this true bravery to begin tiptoeing and start the walking to the other side. We have to chant under our breaths, “Don’t look down!” We have to look ahead or even look up instead of looking down at what lays beneath the rope that scares the crap out of us. Focusing on the danger and everything that could go wrong can cause us to lose our balance.
Instead, we have to take that deep breath. We have to still our racing hearts with the thoughts of what is before us—love. The glory of that far outweighs the risk.
Monika M. Basile
I can’t pinpoint every little instance when there are so many. The list of “reasons” in adoring him is never ending. It is the impression of Barney Fife in the most inappropriate moments saying the most inappropriate things. It is his way of fumbling through when he is saying something important and confusing me as he talks in circles. It is the mess he leaves next to the bed of a hundred freeze pop wrappers and toothpicks I stab my feet on, the pillows scattered on the floor and his pile of junk from his pockets littering the nightstand. It is that he forgets things constantly but never anything important that I tell him. It is that he reaches out in the night to take my hand. It is that he listens to the television at full blast but watches something cheerful to fall asleep to. It is that he is consistent in his caring for me, in his concern, in his thoughts of me. It is that we don’t have to do anything but be together to be happy. It is him bringing his mother here in the midst of my mess and shouting and laughing, “Hey clean up, Mom’s here” and not giving a damn that she sees me at my worst because he thinks my worst is still pretty damn great. It is his kindness and his patience and that he sings the theme from “Rawhide” at the top of his lungs every time he watches it.
It is most frightening that it can possibly be this easy because nothing in my life has ever been easy. It has taken me a while to understand that it is actually supposed to be this easy—this quiet—this peaceful—this pleasant. It is so much more than I ever thought was possible, more than I ever imagined or dreamed. Everything is falling apart around me and he is there, not running, even when he is scared, he is there. Outsiders looking in I am sure say, “These people are a mess. Their lives in disarray and catastrophe…” It’s true. Most things in either of our lives have not gone as planned and there is much that I wish could be changed for either of us but when he looks at me I know he doesn’t see that. He sees all the real things I am instead. When I look at him I see all he is and the wonder fills me.
I don’t want to fail him. I worry about it—that I will somehow disappoint him. I am just me—and it seems to be good enough but I feel like I want to be so much more for him. I know there will come a time when I create a terrible sort of disappointment, or when he does, yet, I somehow think we will get through that. I hope we do.
In the oddest confusion of his words spinning in circles, I had these fears. I thought he wanted to dump me and he instead surprised me with, “I don’t want to break up. I’m trying to tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you and I am scared out of my mind.” Wow. Me too. It is scary—this whole thing, the real deal is terribly scary. Both of us tentatively putting each other’s hearts in the other’s hands and hoping and praying it will be tenderly held.
We have past lives and past loves and moments that scarred us and twisted our thoughts of ourselves. Most people who have come out of relationships look at the next one as a chasm almost too deep to tightrope walk across. There are no nets beneath to catch us. There is only this faith, this true bravery to begin tiptoeing and start the walking to the other side. We have to chant under our breaths, “Don’t look down!” We have to look ahead or even look up instead of looking down at what lays beneath the rope that scares the crap out of us. Focusing on the danger and everything that could go wrong can cause us to lose our balance.
Instead, we have to take that deep breath. We have to still our racing hearts with the thoughts of what is before us—love. The glory of that far outweighs the risk.
Monika M. Basile
