Six months in: the love of my life is still the love of my life.
I have never been more confident about that.
Every little thing that matters, every red flag that ever waved before is white.
It’s miraculous, in that I never before believed that I would not have to sacrifice parts to myself to love and be loved.
And he loves me. Perfectly. Because he knows me better than any person on earth. Perhaps, at times, better than I know myself, and he STILL loves me.
That is not to say that our road has been smooth. There have been challenges that we deserve honorary years for.
My heart is learning to be whole (a condition to which it is wholly unaccustomed). I am also learning that I am my own formidable foe, perfectly willing to get in the way of my own happiness.
But there is also this: Our challenges are just that. Challenges.
My love challenges me to become a better, stronger, more open, more authentic person through our relationship (as opposed to learning those things by having survived the relationship).
And he challenges me by doing it himself – by loving authentically, by being open in the face of insecurity, and by choosing always to grow rather than escape.
Loving him is at the same time the easiest and most difficult thing I have ever done.
Easy, because we fit each other so perfectly. Difficult, because he challenges me to face parts of myself that I have never loved thoroughly enough to encounter, parts of myself that, in the past, were more trying to confront than being alone. Again.
Loving him is difficult.
Loving him is wonderful.
Loving him is what I’ve been looking for.