First I want to thank the bunch of you willing to slog through this “should we, or shouldn’t we have” relationship thing. And for heaven’s sake, if you really knew me you’d know I’m completely unable to tear anyone’s arm off. I’m not big enough…Then again… I suppose my “mouth” (fingers on the keyboard) does pose a significant threat.
Like Cache King (thanks for your colorful stories CK) many of us have found ourselves at the end of a relationship with our head in our hands wondering what the hell we were thinking. We evaluate, and overevaluate. Some of us get really drunk and reallllly overevaluate. Because, you know, its very, very, very important (we think) to figure out the “why” of it all. Like figuring out “Why” would magically conjure some kind of salve and we could go on to that “perfect” relationship with all of these gold jewels of lessons we (supposedly) gleaned. Well that process loads you down with a whole lot of emotional baggage. The search for the “perfect” relationship is a painful one. Expecting perfection out of ourselves is unfair, and exponentially more unfair to expect it from our companions. So…I’ve learned to look back and genuinely value the nuggets of wonderful things that happened during those times and the incredible memories… I’ve learned not to wad up the whole “relationship” like it was a paper bag full of dog crap and pitch it in the trash. I’ve stopped evaluating (though my ex would heartily question that. Being my ex is certainly not a pleasant experience as you might imagine.) And just get on with things.
Sammi, I asked about your proximity to other FF wives because where we lived in the Sierras, I was pretty much alone. Our social circle was nil during the winter, but hey during the summer the compound was filled with what my little ones just called “da guys.” I had quite a support group during my second and third pregnancies. The crew all watched my belly grow during the first part of the season and eagerly anticipated the “calving” (yea…I know…) in the height of fire season. When the babies were born, a hand full of the guys gingerly came over and hunkered on the couch to take a look. The way their big hands held my new babies brought tears to my eyes.
Then my third baby stopped breathing. I’d given her a bath, wrapped her up in a blanket and tucked her in on the couch while I went to another part of the house to do something. When I came back, she was bluish white. My reaction was everything you’re not supposed to do. I picked her up, shook her and blew in her face. Her little systems kicked in somehow and we drove down two different winding canyons to get her to the hospital. My point here isn’t “Poor, poor us.” My point is, those guys on that crew acted like a bunch of hovering uncles. They somehow had become emotionally invested. They intimately experienced both the good and bad times of our family…and by the end of the season, a number of them had plans of their own.
All I’m saying is that, waiting for, or expecting a perfect relationship…or believing that a relationship with a FF will only lead to pain and disappointment is not fair. We all deserve to be happy. “Family” can be the core. And family composition can take on different forms. I just think that happiness comes in chunks. And we should try hard not to throw those away in an attempt to escape the discomfort of an ended relationship. That’s all.