Like a Nora Ephron Novel
Well, it probably couldn’t be more cliche. I’m middle-aged (44, nearly 45, to be exact), my marriage is ending, my mother is struggling, and so I’ve gone to a retreat by myself to figure some things out.
“Figuring things out” is a nice way of saying: I’ve left for a few days to sit in silence and honestly, to let an old version of myself die off.
Growing up, I had the benefit of observing my parents, two people who fell deeply in love and stayed married until my dad’s death 14 years ago today. It wasn’t perfection, it won’t ever be when two humans are involved, but it was solid, steady, and devoted.
I’m participating in the ending of my own marriage, kind of shocked, but also unsurprised. There’s something odd about endings - you experience the two ends of the spectrum - “how on Earth did this happen?” but also “this feels inevitable”.
In the quiet of a small hidden patio off of a tiny Airbnb in a wonderful woman’s backyard here in Santa Paula, I realized that the past 18 years I merely tried my best to embody the same love I observed growing up. It was lovely, painful, and I don’t regret a minute of it, truly.
Overfunctioning, I know you well
Since my earliest memories, my dad struggled with congestive heart failure, which sounds very dramatic and also wild, considering he made it 25+ years beyond his first heart attack. Dad’s “bum ticker” as he called it, was a constant presence growing up; it limited the activities he could do, the amount of physical strain he could handle, and especially, the vigilance of my mom.
I’m not sure why I never caught onto this before, but my model of love was rooted in the observation of mom and dad, a highly vigilant and anxious person constantly keeping an eye on a grown man who would sneak food from the deli at Safeway (which he wasn’t supposed to have, according to his cardiologist).
And so I learned: to really love someone is to maintain vigilance over their well-being, to be 5 steps ahead of any potential issues, to constantly strategize, listen for tone, watch body language, and goodness… it’s just exhausting.
This hyper-vigilance has blessed me with some incredible skills - I can read a room in no time, I can organize what needs doing, and I’m emotionally intelligent. It just doesn’t make me an excellent wife or best friend or lover.
But I thought this was love
It’s not my place to share the experience of my partner of almost 2 decades, and I know it takes two people to create the culture of a marriage, but here’s what I know coming out of this phase of my life: Love is not overfunctioning, it isn’t controlling the daily narrative to find “peace”, and it isn’t losing yourself in the attempt to feel safe.
Moving forward
It’s stunning how exhausted I am. I joined a phenomenal retreat today - it was day two of Byron Katie’s 2-day School for the Work in Ojai, and I left at lunch. Happily.
I’m leaving a lot behind here when I hop on a plane tomorrow morning. The overfunctioning, hypervigilant partner, the insecure woman who needed to know how life would unfold to feel safe, and the Samantha who didn’t know herself, and couldn’t sit alone, on a tiny patio, in a lady’s backyard.
Ultimately, it’s the process that I get to love, no matter how hard it hurts. Byron Katie mentioned something today that landed deep in my stomach: Love will burn away anything but itself.
My job is to let it.
