Desire vs. Desperation

Today as I write this piece on the continued journey working with my coach Lori Ann Davis who is one of the professionals on the show called Radical Dating: Finding Love Over 40, it occurred to me that she is far more than a dating coach, but rather a ‘relating coach’. She has been my guide as I am learning new ways (even after all these years as a therapist) of relating to the woman in the mirror and the world around me. The conversations we have been having over the past few months and the between sessions home-play assignments have brought insights that wouldn’t have arrived otherwise. She asks pointed questions, not tiptoeing around and not leaving room for me to be evasive. I appreciate that since I have been known to dance around or otherwise dress up what I don’t want to reveal for fear of being vulnerable.

She asked how I was doing with experiencing mixed reactions from folks when I share on social media what is happening in my life. Some have felt I overshare. Others applaud my rather naked emotional exposure (and as compared to several of my friends, mine is tame.) that invites them to do the same.

One person (behind the scenes who didn’t know me personally) perceived that by writing about the relationship work I have been doing, I seem ‘desperate’. My immediate reaction was to feel defensive and that lasted a fraction of a second until sanity kicked in and I realized that something I said triggered unpleasant feelings in her and I need not take it personally. I have never felt desperate to be in a relationship, but rather, desirous of one. I have drifted in and out of that state, into contentment and a wee bit of complacency. I have been grateful to have the total freedom of single-hood. I have felt lonely and sometimes longing. All of these are normal experiences and need not be judged as dysfunctional. I have not remained in any of these states for long.

Another life event that seemed to feed into this dynamic was that for the past week or so, I had developed and struggled with a stye in my left eye. A viral infection caused a lump in my eyelid. It obscured my vision and was (no pun intended), unsightly. I went sans makeup for that time (which tested any remaining vanity I had), applied warm compresses throughout the day, and used oral and topical antibiotics to clear it up. I wonder, if, in addition to the biological aspects, I was also falling prey to psychological forces. What was it I didn’t want to see? In what ways was my critical eye overworking? How did I want to view the world; through a distorted lens or the crystal clear eye of love? When aware and mindful, I would choose love every time, without fail. When sleepwalking through my days, I am more inclined to fall into fear. Now that it is nearly healed, I am more conscious of what I want and refraining from hiding for fear of someone else’s impression of how I should be living my life.

This whole dating thing often feels like an audition. What I want is to go about my day and happen upon this person as I have with friends, creative and job opportunities Lori Ann asked me to continue to imagine each day, encountering this man. Try as I might, I can’t get a clear image of what he looks like. Not height, weight, age, or appearance. I can’t hear his voice. There is a felt sense of him. A knowing. A being at home and at peace with him in my life. A comfort and settling in. A sighing. No need to perform or impress. No need to alter who I am to fit into a mold that someone else has created. A blending and merging, even as we maintain our individuality. She suggested an open-minded statement, “Hmmmm, today could be the day we meet.” A while ago, it would have piggybacked with the question, “If by the end of the day we didn’t, how disappointed will I be?” I can, with all sincerity at the moment, declare that it isn’t even a blip on the radar screen, since I know that everything takes as much time as it does and we will arrive in each other’s lives not a moment sooner or later than we do. On that day, I look forward to calling Lori Ann and saying, “Guess what?”

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This post was previously published on huffpost.com.

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