Coaching, Pacing, Breathing
Pace yourself.
Omit needless worrying.
Have fun.
Don’t make unhealthy compromises.
This is what I repeat to myself daily as my time with Parker seems to deepen. We’re seeing each other every other day, which seems like a lot but has yet to feel like too much. He came to the singing performance Wednesday and we agreed to study together for the afternoon at my place. After going back to the yurt for his textbooks, he arrived late afternoon with a big pot of soup and an overnight bag. “I was going to cook the soup and then bring it, but then I thought I’d rather spend the time here. So everything’s chopped and the broth is made. It just needs to boil down. Is that okay?”
Is that okay? Um. Yes.
“Does my singing distract your studying?” he asked later, as we worked side by side at different desks. He was studying something about ATP’s, I think, and I was writing about my fifth grade soccer coach whose shorts were too short. Parker likes to sing spontaneously, making up melodies and nonsense sentences.
“No words,” I said, not looking up from the keyboard. “But humming is fine.”
Humming ensued.
The thing is this: Finally I felt my worry-brain turn off. Studying together was a good, healthy, normal activity. But still, I felt at times that I was playing the role. That I’m engaging in all of this with a goal-oriented perspective rather than a moment-to-moment appreciation of his presence.
Strong relationships take time, and all the ones I’ve had in the past have formed together – friendship and lover in one, at the same time, never just friendship first. This pacing thing is new ground for me, and the more restraint I feel myself exercise, the more anxious I get. My willingness to restrain – or try to be moment-to-moment – is a measure of how much I like him and how much I want a lasting partner. And then the worrying ensues.
Weekend plans include errands together tomorrow (or rather, his errands, my studying, then a team effort bargain shopping at a discount food store). Then we’ll go to the Halloween Party at the craft school. Who knows what Sunday will bring. All of this and the writing, oh the writing, awaits. I’ve got nine new pages done. Eleven more to go. Oh, and I’ve got to read another book. Hah!
Pace yourself.
Omit needless worrying.
Have fun.
Don’t make unhealthy compromises.
