Intimacy Diary 10: The End

Healing over the past two years has allowed me to release suppressed subconscious wounding and find forgiveness in and outside of me. I’m here … in reality. What is, just is, void of needing to explain it as good, bad or ugly. But the muscles which have gotten stronger are my ability to bounce back quickly, resiliency, learning to flow as I go through any and everything … But Not All Love Stories Last Forever.

If you prefer I read to you, audio version, here.

We started dating quickly, jumped into travel, loving, moving in, planning future, quickly, and at some point stopped feeling and started just going through the motions. We both felt pressure, an emphasis on an expiration date, or a wedding date, an anxiety around us both not wanting to be “here,” for too much time, instead idealizing where to move or getting married. I got swept into the timeline. The desire to start my life… instead of just living.

Single at 35, 11 months and three weeks was never my plan. Yet either was living in New York City for 11 years, culinary school, celebrity chefs, world travel, starting my own fitness concept, opening studios, teaching, Covid, closing, psychedelic assisted therapy, Trauma, two years of healing! And yet — It’s all brought me here, and I’ve never felt so alive, which is why I can no longer continue lying. Truth is, he’s not my guy. He was. We were. Until we weren’t. There was love there.

On the night we met, I drove home after he kissed me, and asked the full moon aloud August 21, 2021, Please moon send me love. She did. She sent me a man who wanted to love all of me, who held me, touched me, celebrated me. She sent me a man who lived in his heart, best he could, learned with me to feel strength in his feelings, and also a man that I knew early couldn’t love me fully until he learned to love himself fully. Early on in our relationship, my intuition kept revisiting this question:

If you don’t love you first, how can you really love me?

Looking back now, it’s telling that he was eager to kiss me, but taken aback same night when I dug into him inquisitively, asking him intimate questions. But he loved me as best as he could. We were connected intimately, physically, he was the first man I felt safe with entirely — I loved him too: his heart. I love that he saw me. I love the way he listens, thinks, sometimes thinks too deeply, but always wears his heart on his sleeve. But eleven months ago when he met me, he was just coming into learning that not everyone has your best interest at heart. That there are people in this world that are so blinded by their own wounding that they continue wounding, that hurt people hurt people. Over the years, these lessons hardened me, but I’ve since softened. But he started seeing reality as we started dating — and his reality began crumbling. Ego death, particularly for a man, is challenging, when your whole persona as you’ve known it, is blown wide open…his professional life compromised in tandem with tending to a new relationship. Truth is, it might have been smarter to call it quits, then. But we kept going …

In some way, I took him under my wing and held him in his suffering. I coached him through his experiencing, I empowered him to own his shit, stand up for himself, and eventually start healing. And he did — all the things. Because I’ve lived in a tunnel of perspective, that it isn’t always easy, but it doesn’t have to be so hard. It took a while, but I think he finally believed me. Perspective is everything. And spending time with a man who was perceptive, willing to grow and change and get to know, himself, first, was refreshing — but the wrong timing. And still, spending time with him was a gift, an opportunity for me to, to see myself in his reflection, build my own boundaries, learn to not be triggered by his experiencing. But we fell out of sync, fell into planning and rushing.

Five months in, both of our leases expiring, the pressure surmounting: “Well at our age if we don’t want to move in together, we should probably break up — was my rationale.” I was abiding by an invisible timeline, putting pressure on the unforeseeable future of things. I want to get married, I want to have babies, at some point, what began as playing, dating, and vacationing shifted into planning. We were both guilty. He’d say, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I’d reply, what about just one more day? But when he called me randomly and said, “How’s my hot future wifey?” I melted, fantasizing, so excited.

But those conversations happened mostly while we were vacationing. But on vacation from reality, when we were less worried about everything, we fit naturally. I’d call my family and tell them that we were going to get married. They were happy, ecstatic.  Because marriage is the answer to everything — I KID, this is me joking.

“I can plan a wedding in two weeks!,” My mom offered, and this excited me.

But looking back, what is the rush? Marriage doesn’t solve everything!

“Of all the boyfriends you’ve dated, I’ve never seen you so happy.” I replied, I love you Dad but my happiness wasn’t about him, it was about all the work I’ve done to learn me. And it’s the truth. I’ve never been so happy, because I have me.

And living together never flowed naturally. In the beginning, I shut down, reliving some of my own PTSD memories, and then began nagging — about the kitchen not being clean or how I do certain things, adjusting to cohabitating, focused on surface things instead of having the courage to call out the heart of the matter. I had a deep knowing that we were rushing, and that he probably wasn’t ready for the intimacy I was seeking, because he was just learning himself more intimately. But my body knew. I became more rigid, less flowy. And yet, I got wrapped up in focusing on the end goal that I forgot to acknowledge how I was actually feeling in the moment, and the space between. Before I started Box + Flow I was dating an incredibly smart guy, but I was stuck in indecision, in fear of jumping, and in part assuming that either we’d get married and I could forget my dream, or that we would get married and he’d help me build the whole thing. Either way I was bypassing Me.

I repeated my pattern with him, became more focused on next thing, the wedding, on his work drama or his healing, became so wrapped up in caretaking that I also bypassed me, stopped being present and focused on my needs. I have a deep desire to create, to write, motivate, heal. And if I’m not growing, I’m dying. My plant baby Wild Olivia who was so vibrant initially, since we moved in together has been dying, slowly. Her vibrancy, her growth, her green, is no longer shining. My plant baby stopped breathing — its like she knew, that this living situation lacked stability. We can’t live wild if we’re stuck thinking.

For months I considered, Would we break up if we didn’t live together? Probably. But living together provided so much learning. And yet, our relationship lacked stability. In or out. Black or white. Emotions don’t come with instructions or warnings. We jumped into a roller coster of lessons. Me at the tail end of my healing journey, him when we met, just jumping — into the depths of him. But, like Wild Olivia, much of our time living together I felt my light dimming, my prowess, my knowing. I was giving more than I was getting — but my love is unyielding, unless I’m constricted, unless I’m withholding. Which Ayahuasca showed me, and happened often in our home — because I didn’t feel safe to feel completely open, because I watched him descend into a dark cycle of unfolding. My femininity became more edgy — even my hormones responded. Our bodies don’t lie. But I would be remiss to say he didn’t also give to me. He is so giving. But over the past month or so, another question began hovering:

If nothing is wrong, does it mean that it’s right?

The answer is No.

Just because nothing’s wrong, doesn’t mean that it’s right. I fear that people make this mistake often, keep going through the motions, say yes when it’s not a F*ck yes, and let me tell you, if its not a F*ck yes, its a No. TRUST YOURSELF. It took me some time but I’ve never seen clearer, felt deeper, I’m here, in my decision that it’s over. And when I arrived in this decision, there was no haze: no justifying, getting lost in past wounding, old stories, or future. And even though nothing is wrong, it’s not right, for either of us, together. I knew this when I left for Colorado last week, when I decided to finally move forward with egg freezing. I’ve known this for some time, but it was just a whisper until it was a scream. And when it started screaming, I couldn’t hide it any longer.

I hesitated to return from Colorado, avoiding. And when I returned, he was still loving, but I resisted, because the scream was too loud to ignore this time, because I knew already, and fighting my knowing was betraying me. At lunch, his JDMBA cross examined me, “Well you’re not convinced we’re supposed to be together, but are you clear that we aren’t?” I give him credit. He’s nearly as stubborn as me, but sometimes his resilience is still wired in ego, in conditioned behaviors, in unmet needs. And still I will always have love in my heart for him, but we’re not meant to keep going, or get married. We fell out of lovers and fell into unconscious habits, autopilot, forcing a fairy tale ending. A wedding is not a fairy tale ending. Fuck all the instagram posts — Life begins when we stop existing. The fairy tale is possible, but found in each moment, when we’re living in our truth, in love with ourselves, with love for everything. And still life isn’t always easy. Life is reality. And every moment we have a choice of perspective: fight or flow, half full or half empty.

When I returned from Colorado, my throat began throbbing, I wasn’t using my voice, I wasn’t being honest, but I couldn’t hold it. Later that evening I took myself to a movie, my late Grandmother Honey was sitting with me. Walking home I had a feeling he’d be making dinner. He had, hearts of palm noodles in melted anchovy, popped cherry tomatoes, fresh basil, parmesan cheese and a sentimental bottle of wine we’d been saving. I was resistant to everything, kinda just wanted to avoid talking, make eggs, and go to sleep. I hopped in the shower to rinse off the Texas heat, and then sat on my closet floor, crying. An ending and a beginning. I had to say something. I told him my truth, “I’m done and no longer available for negotiating.” I had to trust my knowing. I’d already given enough of me. And it’s time to go back to focusing on what I need.

In the past two years of integration and therapy, clearing the subconscious muck out of me, I avoid getting stuck in judging or comparing. Instead I own that I’m nearly 36, newly single, and desire a fruitful impactful career and a family. I want to live in open space in nature and continue creating through food, movement, words, speaking … using my stories to help others feel empowered in their own. I want to keep sharing, my love of life — because I’m no longer existing. This is the part where I start living. Looking back at old videos last night, I gave myself the credit that I think I’ve long desired. I always wanted to be seen, accomplished things, built a business, was featured on media outlets, built a network, built my body. Funny, looking back, I was so stuck in doing, in getting to the next best thing that I never celebrated anything. And I was never good enough for me. Last night and for the past year and a half, I’ve given myself the gift of seeing me.

Am I sad? Of course. I’m saying goodbye to the person I’ve spent the most time with for nearly a year, with whom I’ve shared so much emotion and intimacy, but I know this is our ending. That I kept growing, but we stopped growing, together. And in the rare times I really needed his care, he wasn’t able to hold me. But that’s ok because I held me. His lack was just telling. Society tells us That women over 30 are desperate, expiring, husband hunting. I’m guilty, I used to feel sad for “us.” But I’ve never felt prouder, felt stronger, clearer, sexier, and more rooted in me. What a travesty that we’re trained to think that going through the motions instead of choosing is “living.” I’m no longer sacrificing any sense of self to fit into societal conditioning. I believe in big dreams, lofty things, having it all — but my non-negotiable, is me.

Breaking up, feels tricky - the lease, moving out, respecting each others emotions and needs. But I feel steady. I’ve been studying energy healing via Andean Shamanism with the incredible guide who’s held me in my journey. The work connects the physical and metaphysical worlds and works with spirit and animals. In the past week I’ve prayed for signs that my path is aligning and poof, my animals showed up for me, first a hummingbird a few weeks ago flew up to my apartment on the 13th floor and stared at her reflection, facing herself, mirroring me. This past week a turtle along my path while I was running. I chose a turtle as one of my symbols for two reasons, 1. Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. No matter where, a turtle is always home — like me. 2. Pace > race. My ever reminder to stop rushing to the next thing, to instead fully experience what I’m experiencing. Third, a raven pulling apart a dragonfly from its wings violent, I had to turn away, but so symbolic of a death and rebirthing. My friend from class reminded me that this is a catalyst, to allow death of old conditions and open to transitions, to rebirthing. And last the same raven yesterday, clipped my ear as I was running — a reminder, to keep listening, not to the noise, but rather to my soul, my internal knowing. It isn’t easy but it doesn’t have to be so hard, I remind myself with clarity, that I am making the right decision for us, and for me. That while this love story, didn’t last forever, the love story that does, is the one I’m writing with me. I gave all of me, surrendered fully which I feared, because loving him fully also meant potentially losing. But I wouldn’t change a thing — except rushing, which never solved what wasn’t working. What does work is leading with love, void of fear, and the self knowing when it’s over. The end.

May this bring you hope, love, clarity, or as my friend Stephen reminded me, as the hummingbird reminds us, to look at ourselves more deeply, into our reflections - to face ourselves to free ourselves, remembering to drink only from the sweetest nectar of life from here forward. Because all we have is now, and now is all we need. With my reminder that If it isn’t fueling you — instead just fills some empty: stop dating it, tasting it, doing it, f’cking it. Fuel > Fill. Pace > Race. Everything WE need is inside. Trust yourself.

Love always,

Olivia xx