Am I With the Right Person?

“In Yiddish, there’s a word for it: bashert. The meaning is something like “intended”: the person who was meant for you. We’re not talking about a soul mate, though modern usage often spins it that way; the original meaning is more complicated. Your bashert won’t always make you happy, and your life together won’t always be easy. But there’s a sense of rightness, of having landed where you’re supposed to be.”

 

I have these dreams sometimes where Husband and I are in a bad place. Sometimes I don’t remember why, sometimes I don’t even know how they start. But as the dream progresses, it becomes more and more serious and I see it coming in Dream Time that our relationship is falling apart. In Dream State, I know it’s wrong—it feels abysmally wrong. Because even in Dream Land I know petting us fall apart would be the biggest mistake of our lives. It feels like a knife to the heart and in a way that isn’t like me in real life, Dream Me cries and begs and tells him that this is stupid, and that we shouldn’t give up and he acts indifferent. I feel very proud of Dream Me for being so vulnerable but Dream He shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t care. (Take out knife and stab heart again. Worst. Dream. Ever.)

Cold. Indifferent. Unavailable. It couldn’t be further from the truth and yet I wake up angry at real-life Husband for dream-life Husband’s actions.

I hate those dreams (I’m sure Husband does too since I wake up angry with him for his dream actions). I physically feel the pain when I wake up but I also wake up from those dreams very clear about one thing: I don’t want Husband going a-n-y-w-h-e-r-e. As much as his mumbling drives me bonkers or his “selective” hearing makes me want to buy him a hearing aid for Christmas, I want that lazy-tongued, deaf bastard in my bed every night when I go to sleep and every morning when I wake up.

He is certainly my bashert, my intended, my intention.

Before him, everyone that I dated was different yet very much the same: outspoken, outgoing, loud individuals. They were me but with a penis; it could have never worked. But out of each of those relationships I was discovering, one frog at a time, what didn’t wouldn’t work for me. I didn’t know it then but I was intending someone better for my life. So when I broke up with the salsa dancing lawyer that worked too much, I intended someone who loved his job but didn’t make it his whole life (and someone who could dance, of course). When I broke up with my young, college boyfriend that wasn’t ready for commitment, I intended someone I loved but that was ready for the kind of commitment I was ready for. When I broke up with the English teacher who told me I had gained weight since we first met, I intended someone who cared more about the weight of my soul than the weight of my scale.

Am I with the right person? That’s a heavy question to ask yourself. The important ones always are. And if I answered it frankly I’d say this: I had a hard time writing this post; not because I’m not sure but because I so infinitely am and how do you put that kind of certainty into words.

I intended Husband. I really believe that.

I won’t say it was always the easiest road. It is the nature of relationships to be hard. Essentially, relationships are merging two things into one: a fusion, if you will, and not all fusions work. They require a balance, a compromise. They require swallowing your ego and allowing someone else’s flavor into the pot. They require time to get it right… but what a beautiful thing it is when you do get it right; when you give up a little piece of yourself and, in return, get a whole other person.

 

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In April’s issue of O Magazine was a feature titled 20 Questions Every Woman Should Ask Themselves. I’ve decided to ask myself these questions and give a sincere try in answering them. This is question 3 of 20: Am I With the Right Person?