This space has been startlingly silent lately, and for those of you who might be new, that means I’m trying not to reveal exactly what has been rolling around within. Determining the exact cause of my hesitance has been an exercise in futility, and that’s been the source of indescribable frustration. It appears to be comprised of two parts fear and one part discretion; these things have rarely served me well in life, in love, or on the page. So I’ve made the decision to dispense with them directly.

Happiness is a damn precarious state to live in if you’re unaccustomed.  A combination of justified realism and the lowest tolerance for uncertainty known to the species propel me to look for the ending, the fall, the hook, the catch.   It’s always interesting and a little surprising to find out who among one’s social circles is threatened or embittered by one’s rise to grace, and I was more than a little disgusted to find myself on the list. I am seemingly incapable of declaring my happiness without the obligatory <cue anvil> disclaimer.

I think that’s why I’ve been so angry with the last few people to cross me; they are the safe, external personifications of my own self-destructive thought patterns. Hating them is easier than hating the parts of myself that do their work while they skip merrily along with their lives. It’s also much lighter work than letting go of their tired refrain.

As it turns out, I am not all that demanding, and my expectations are more than reasonable compared to what I have to offer. I am as deserving of love and happiness as anyone else is in this world, and my joy only causes pain for those who cannot face their own demons. There isn’t any reason to be suspicious or superstitious, because the only difference between something that works and something that doesn’t is the intention and the effort behind it. There isn’t some kind of cosmic logic that conspires to take from me what I choose to believe in.

There are only people who are too closed up, bitter and lazy to invest of themselves- the very same people that have that stale belief that love springs from some finite source- that what is given cannot be replenished. Which is quite possibly the worst way to live and love.

Somewhere between fielding snarky comments from miserable people, encouraging my sister to take her own risks and uphold her own standards, and stretching my zen muscles in various airports, it became very clear to me, once again, that we find what we seek in this world. Love, hate, success, failure, betrayal- it is all there for the taking, and we choose what seeds we nurture.

The final straw, though, was fielding a friendly yet earnest death threat.

“If you break his heart…”

That small, simple reminder that I have as much control and responsibility as anyone else, the realization that giving in to my fear and guilt is endangering him as much as it endangers me, the undeniable truth that you steer towards what you concentrate on, gave me the courage to starve the seeds of fear and nurture hope.

I hadn’t truly considered that I might not be the only person to be vulnerable and end up hurt; my concern was looking like a fucking idiot for believing in yet another emotionally unavailable zombie who only knows that old dance of seducing and withdrawing. There is a special place in hell for men who do this and are also charming enough to manipulate women into thinking that they are requiring too much in exchange for their affection and attention.

I hadn’t truly considered that I was accepting unacceptable behavior from frenemies because I viewed it as a penance to be paid in exchange for the incredible joy that this man has brought to my life. The hatred, jealousy and denigration put just enough of a tarnish on my unadulterated bliss to make it seem possible, attainable. My poor little heart couldn’t just soak up all that light without what I had been so sadly trained to believe was enough requisite darkness to keep my universe in balance.

So there it is. I’m happy. I’m involved in something worth believing in, with someone who is more than I ever hoped to find. Frankly, I find myself wishing there were new words to use, because I never would have used most of them to describe anything or anyone else if I had known this first.

I’m finally getting what I deserve, and I welcome the responsibility to deserve what I’m getting. That means weeding fear, bitterness and failure from my heart’s garden.

If you’re getting the cold shoulder from me, maybe you should ask yourself: how does your garden grow?

My darling, my sweetheart
I am in your sway
To cold climes comes springtime
So let me hear you say

My love:
I am going to stand my ground
They rise to me and I’ll blow them down
I am going to stand my ground
They rise to me and I’ll blow them down

- decemberists “rise to me”