What do I do with the feelings of fear? The desire to cling to the safety of my partner?
It's natural, yet unnatural. Natural considering how I witnessed the loss of my father directly. Unnatural as I'm now squeezing Jessica tightly out of fear of another loss. She misses and wants to explore herself apart from me at times. I too want to explore myself apart from her. I want to come up with various ideas and plans, and choose some if I would like. Even investigating thoughts and feelings in solitude is worthwhile. I miss simply doing that. Yet I fear to be apart from her for too long, let alone being away overnight or for seperate trips (as when I went to Korea myself this past summer).
I try to imagine my father. His strength was profound. I know he was only human and had fear in him, which he expressed sometimes to me. However, the way he conducted himself was unwavering. As many parents, he found meaning in his life by caring for family. Despite being disabled by a shotgun wound in his late 30s, he never gave up on living. I believe that was by his focusing on us, his family. He told me several times that once children are brought into the world, one is responsible. No ifs-and-or-buts. Yet, at the same time, he didn't squeeze us like so many families do when they hang on to their members as their meaning for continuing to live (like how my mom squeezes me; possessive love). My father never did. He was always close enough that if you called his name and reached your hand out, he would call back and reach his hand out to grab yours. No matter what, he would be there to help you find your way. Key words here being 'your way' (not his way). Then when you were up and ready to keep moving, he would gently release your hand, give a hug and kiss, and let you be on your way, until the next time you'd call.
I realize I was able to do this for my father at the end. Every once in a while, he would call me and ask my plans with an ever so lightly quivering voice. Several times at the end, we rearranged our plans to stay with him, even though all he was hoping for was a visit he said (perhaps to calm him down? Perhaps to not be alone at the end? Part of me believes he knew goodbye was coming soon.) We stayed overnight those days. When he felt okay, I would go back to our apartment. Then back again if he called. There is much love in this way.
I want to be this way for Jessica. She deserves such love most certainly. She's been able to provide me with such love. How fortunate I am indeed.
Thinking about it in this way, how my father and Jessica show me love, helps greatly. But I won't deny that fear wins above logic on many days still. Some days I feel infantile, yet I can't release my grasp.
So now the question becomes, how can I learn to release my grip and extend my arm back just enough such that Jessica and my hands are just out of reach, allowing for freedom or safety at any moment's notice?
Now is the time for me to sit on this, as Jessica is beginning to gasp for some air (and rightfully so). I need to let her walk her own way.
It's natural, yet unnatural. Natural considering how I witnessed the loss of my father directly. Unnatural as I'm now squeezing Jessica tightly out of fear of another loss. She misses and wants to explore herself apart from me at times. I too want to explore myself apart from her. I want to come up with various ideas and plans, and choose some if I would like. Even investigating thoughts and feelings in solitude is worthwhile. I miss simply doing that. Yet I fear to be apart from her for too long, let alone being away overnight or for seperate trips (as when I went to Korea myself this past summer).
I try to imagine my father. His strength was profound. I know he was only human and had fear in him, which he expressed sometimes to me. However, the way he conducted himself was unwavering. As many parents, he found meaning in his life by caring for family. Despite being disabled by a shotgun wound in his late 30s, he never gave up on living. I believe that was by his focusing on us, his family. He told me several times that once children are brought into the world, one is responsible. No ifs-and-or-buts. Yet, at the same time, he didn't squeeze us like so many families do when they hang on to their members as their meaning for continuing to live (like how my mom squeezes me; possessive love). My father never did. He was always close enough that if you called his name and reached your hand out, he would call back and reach his hand out to grab yours. No matter what, he would be there to help you find your way. Key words here being 'your way' (not his way). Then when you were up and ready to keep moving, he would gently release your hand, give a hug and kiss, and let you be on your way, until the next time you'd call.
I realize I was able to do this for my father at the end. Every once in a while, he would call me and ask my plans with an ever so lightly quivering voice. Several times at the end, we rearranged our plans to stay with him, even though all he was hoping for was a visit he said (perhaps to calm him down? Perhaps to not be alone at the end? Part of me believes he knew goodbye was coming soon.) We stayed overnight those days. When he felt okay, I would go back to our apartment. Then back again if he called. There is much love in this way.
I want to be this way for Jessica. She deserves such love most certainly. She's been able to provide me with such love. How fortunate I am indeed.
Thinking about it in this way, how my father and Jessica show me love, helps greatly. But I won't deny that fear wins above logic on many days still. Some days I feel infantile, yet I can't release my grasp.
So now the question becomes, how can I learn to release my grip and extend my arm back just enough such that Jessica and my hands are just out of reach, allowing for freedom or safety at any moment's notice?
Now is the time for me to sit on this, as Jessica is beginning to gasp for some air (and rightfully so). I need to let her walk her own way.
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