Can two people, both of whom don’t like to be the center of attention, survive the influx of attention in a new relationship – especially if they have different attachment styles? The other day, I received an email from Island photography. It was one of those reminder / memories notifications that we’ve all become accustomed to. Facebook sends them, Google sends them, Island Photography sends them. I once ordered a bunch of pictures from Island. They were the official photographers of the Philadelphia Marathon weekend. Two years ago on November 17, I ran my first and only half-marathon. One year ago, I wrote a reflective piece on the experience – though it was mostly about my relationship to the person I ran the race with, the woman I was dating and eventually got engaged to. We’re no longer together – haven’t been for a year and half. The memories fade, as do the emotions. I have no idea who she is as a person now…. I sometimes wonder if we would recognize each other. But the pictures, they captured a moment in time. A moment when we thought we knew each other.
It’s interesting to look at those pictures now – they look a little different with time and distance. I suspect that when I first looked at them, I focused in on her smile as we ran together. I liked seeing her smile. For the longest time I was looking for evidence that she was happy in the relationship. In those first awkward weeks after things ended, I was hoping she would see that she was happy – I was hoping other people would remind her that she was happy. I couldn’t understand how she couldn’t see in us, and those pictures, what I saw. Looking at the pictures in the reminder email, I see me turning towards her, maybe talking, probably telling a joke and she’s smiling and looking ahead as she runs – perhaps genuinely smiling, perhaps humoring me. I think this was the difference in the relationship. I could see this a year ago when I wrote about running with her. I was looking to learn from her, to support her, to complement each other. I suspect she was looking to remain the person she was or rediscover herself, to run without distraction.
Relationship experts John and Julie Gottman stress the importance of being able to towards each other, both physically and emotionally. The more I think about all of the different things we humans want, maybe expect, out of life, I’m not surprised that relationships fail. That balance of me vs. us is a delicate one, and while it doesn’t have to be complicated, it does require patience, work, compromise, and humor. I went back and re-read what I wrote about learning to run – I think it’s one of my more personally insightful pieces – at least in terms of what I felt I was getting out of that relationship and what I want out of a relationship. I then re-read some other posts I had written – about personality types and learning to slow down. I spend a lot less time looking back on this past year and half of writing and recollection. If I’m being brutally honest with myself, a lot of what I was writing was to prove to her and to me that I’m thoughtful person – that I gave us all of my consideration – that I, she, we was/were worthy of words, thoughts, and deeds.
I’ve been working on this post, on and off, for a few days now. When it comes to writing, I’m out of practice and easily distracted. I’ve had a few different things I’ve wanted to write about or share. I can feel myself getting back into an observational and explorational mode and mood. I’m paying attention to the way the light slants through the afternoon. I’m seeking out new experiences, even if they’re internal ones. Last night I played musical hopscotch on YouTube. I discovered some new songs though so many of them have the same refrain, the same emotional heft and thrust – turning towards, walking away, looking back, rambling on.
As I write this, I’m reminded of the Stephen Dobyns poem “How to Like It.” “These are the first days of fall. The wind / at evening smells of roads still to be traveled,” “How is it possible to want so many things / and still want nothing.” “…and that’s where the man’s / wife finds him, staring into the refrigerator / as if into the place where the answers are kept – / the ones telling why you get up in the morning / and how it’s possible to sleep at night, / answers to what comes next and how to like it.”
When I look back on those pictures, I’m reminded of something special – a rare moment in life in which I felt truly connected and everything seemed possible. I also feel the pull of roads still to be traveled and wonder what comes next and how to like it.