Walking on Water - Love Story Pt. 8

With that beautiful ring on my finger, I couldn't eat, I couldn't work, I could hardly think.   I found myself abandoning my office far too often to wander aimlessly downtown.  I was drowning in distress. 

And I was so fed up with myself.  It was humiliating.  I had never before, and have never since, been so out of touch with my feelings.  Logically, there was no reason I should be reacting this way.  I was sure I had worked through all of my fears about marriage: I understood that there are no guarantees, and I was finally willing to take the risk.  I knew Creighton extremely well by this point.  He was everything I'd ever dreamed of finding- all wrapped up in a different package than I'd ever imagined.
And he made me happy.  He was so good to me.

I know we're all feeling so sorry for Creighton right now, but please know that my sincerity was real and my intentions were pure.  From the beginning, I just wanted to make the best decision I could.  I kept most of my struggles to myself to be sure I didn't hurt him unnecessarily- especially this time.  It took me several weeks to let him know I was not doing well. I tried so hard to maintain my composure. I hoped the anxiety would pass if I could just hold on long enough, but for me, it was like trying to walk on water.  I prayed incessantly for help, and peace, and strength.  I knew- absolutely- that God was aware of my struggle and that he had some things he wanted to teach me.  He gave me a glimpse of the greatest lesson, but left me with the feeling that there was something more I needed to address within myself.

With my body wasting away and my mind unable to attend to the details of planning a wedding only six weeks away, I finally had to say something to Creighton.  I was so sad and so sorry.  He was so kind.  We brainstormed together to come up with a defensive plan.  We even sat down with his parents and told them I was struggling with some anxiety and depression.  I didn't really know what to call what I was experiencing, but those are labels that most people understand today, and the closest things I could relate it to.  Creighton's mother, who had dealt with a bout of depression when she was younger, suggested I pay a visit to her doctor.  It was also suggested that I consider talking with a counselor at social services.  I was so desperate and determined to get through this, that I took their suggestions.  I wasn't sure either one was the answer for me, but because I had never dealt with this situation before, I didn't want to be foolish by turning down anything that might help.  Besides, my clothes were all falling off- I had to do something about that.

The doctor was capable and experienced.   I walked out of her office with a prescription for an anti-depressant.  I filled it, went home, stared at the bottle, and had the very strong impression that I should not take them.  This was not the answer for me.

The counselor was another story.  A rather surreal experience for me because I rarely ever go to other people for help. (It's a weakness.)  She had asked Creighton to be there with me- which I wasn't so sure about.  He came.  She asked me a lot of questions.  I talked.  But not for too long.  I don't think the visit lasted longer than 20 minutes.  She listened to what I had to say, observed me, and then, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, pronounced her diagnosis:

"It sounds to me like you're not in love with him."

Her words struck such a cord in me that my face burned and my insides ignited.  I couldn't say anything in response, I was dumbfounded.  I thanked her for her time, told her I'd consider that, and we left. Imagine walking away with your fiance after a pronouncement like that! I stumbled over some words trying to make light of her analysis, but I couldn't ignore that stunned sensation inside of me- a feeling that truth had been jolted to the surface.  I had some things to think about. But I wasn't going to be asking Creighton to be there for it.

Something about that counselor releasing those words into the air made it possible for me to explore the notion of romantic love again after so long.  In the first year of our relationship, I knew I wasn't in love- we've gone over that already.  My bedraggled heart belonged to someone else, and it felt impossible for me to love two people at the same time.  It felt like a betrayal to my soul.  But somewhere along the line, I had stopped thinking about that other boy every hour of the day.  I had stopped hoping that he would call.  I had actually felt that window close and bolt.  And gradually, all of my thoughts and attention had turned to Creighton.  For nearly a year, he had been the one constantly on my mind- he was the future I explored.  But my mind was still in the driver's seat, not my heart.  Still, we were close enough that I had grown to truly care about him.   I felt a very real and deep connection to Creighton.  We had become very good friends and we shared so many of the same ideals and goals for life.  This, in combination with the obvious chemistry we had, was the basis for my engagement(s) to him.  I had been so used to feeling nothing for anyone for so long, that this seemed to be quite enough.  What more could I ask for?

But something in me was asking for more.  After overcoming all of my fears about marriage, this was the one monumental fear that remained: deep down inside of me, I was terrified that I might be marrying someone I wasn't truly in love with!  This was the fear that kicked in immediately after both engagements.

It's a horrifying thought, isn't it?  

Here's the thing-  our entire culture revolves around the idea that romantic love is the be all, end all of our existence.  Being in love is wonderful- I fully support it!  But we've come to believe, thanks to Disney and the rest of Hollywood, that if a marriage doesn't begin in a state of romantic bliss, or if it doesn't continue on that sort of high, there is something terribly wrong.  If you believe it, the result is a devastating sense of loss, or resentment, or self-pity, and eventually entitlement.  This one belief is the source of much anguish and far too many broken relationships.  

Once I allowed myself to recognize my biggest stumbling block, the fear and anxiety peaked, and then turned to utter perplexity.  How could I not be in love with Creighton??  And what do I do about that?  I couldn't manufacture those kinds of feelings.  All this time, I had been waiting for something magical to happen that would sweep me off my feet.  Love at first sight would have been nice... or maybe I just wanted a little cat and mouse game so I could conquer in the end.  This wasn't how it happened in the first love story, but I assumed this is how it usually happens.  And it hadn't happened.  Creighton had always been there - too real for magic, too comfortable for tingly, and too genuine for games. 

We called off the engagement so I could recover my health.  There was an uproar from family attempting to shake some sense into me.  Even Grandma called to slap my cheeks.  I couldn't tell anyone the truth- there seemed to be something very wrong about letting Creighton go because I wasn't "in love" with him.

We didn't really have a plan after that. I gave him back the ring and had no idea where to go from there. We were hanging in mid-air, with a stagnant sense of nothingness all about.  That's always the result of indecision.  For the first time, I didn't have any suggested course of action for either of us.  Recognizing that, Creighton's own instincts kicked into gear.  Shortly after calling off the engagement, he called to tell me that he had accepted a job in California.  It was time for him to move on with his life.  He loved me, but he couldn't make up my mind for me.  He didn't want to keep in touch.  It would be too hard unless I knew what I wanted.  He couldn't go back and forth any longer.

Within a month, he was gone.