Here's the thing ... I don't always entirely believe what I think or tell myself I believe.
At any given moment I may communicate only half the continuing debate. Just because I find balance at the end of each cycle of internal disruption doesn't mean I'm always in agreement with myself.
There are two of me ... maybe three?
- Emotion rises up from within to demand that I ask for more. I want to date! I want to know Hawk loves me. I want to be desired for who I am as a person. I want to help him more directly. I want to be the one who he turns to when he feels lonely. I want ... more time?... more than this small glimpse of who he is. I want to understand him completely!
What about Hawk's response to this passion ... and probable rejection? I don't really want to be rejected, or pushed away. Well, it will be devastating if he doesn't love me, too, but knowing I have been rejected is preferable to wondering if I actually would be. Right? I can always be the friend he rejected. Why not just tell him to get it over with? Then we'd have it all out in the open and I'd stop worrying about it. How can I even begin to call this "wanting" love?
- Reason tries to clamp down on emotion with rational, external explanations for everything. I don't even know if we'd get along in a dating relationship. It's not right to ignore Hawk's perspective and he doesn't seem ready to talk about this. It's okay to get to know him for now. We can always figure it out later. Now is not the time to ask him what he thinks. He's been busy. I'm reading thoughts into his hesitations and pauses that may not be there. Stop being so emotional!
Friendship is more stable and less demanding, so why rock the boat? I'm fine alone. I don't need a romance right now, anyway. It's all too complicated to just charge in.... Even if he does decide he loves me that way, there's no guarantee that it would work out. After all, I'm the one who said I didn't want to be in a relationship right now. I chose this path, knowing I felt more than I was willing to pursue.
- In the end, I become unconcerned. Perhaps this is faith. I don't know.
I have already gained so much encouragement and insight from knowing him, and he says he's been helped and encouraged by knowing me, too. No matter what happens next, we will both be fine. Neither of us is desperately dependent, and that is good. Life will go on no matter what happens.
Any relationship is a third element. Two individual personalities, perspectives, and life experiences are the strands that weave its fabric. If we are to be together this decision will happen mutually, when it's time. If we see a chance that will benefit us, we can take it at that time. What we have now is good, too.
This final perspective is the part of me that realizes I'm not in control of life, only my awareness and reactions. If I try too hard, I often create new problems or fight windmills. If I take each step as it comes, I will deal with real problems or opportunities when they arise. No need to worry, or struggle, or fight within myself.
When I listen to this part of myself, I'm fine from the inside out. However, I think this calm only comes after the storm. I wouldn't be able to hear this quiet voice if I hadn't processed both the emotional and the reasoning honestly, taking them both as constructive elements of who I am and not trying to shut either voice down.
Emotion may weep over heartbreak and gaze at the moon in a haze of happiness. Reason may list all the possibilities and how best to face them. Faith recognizes that both the beauty and the terrible in life exist independent of my understanding or emotions. Together they create the frame through which I interact with the world.
And in the end, I will choose to be honest with Hawk about all three of these internal voices, because anything less isn't true friendship. I will trust him to work through what it all means to him, and how he will respond to me in light of it. At that time, I will feel what I feel ... and think what I think.
How can I possibly know what that will be? No matter what, I'll be fine.
(I do realize this isn't "alternate personalities" in a clinical sense. I'm amused at how distinctive the voices are in my internal debates, but I'm pretty sure I'm always myself, no matter which perspective feels loudest.)