“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 get into a ridiculous sort of fight, so ridiculous that in the dream I forget what we’re fighting about. But in the dream, this ridiculous disagreement becomes so serious that we avoid each other. Soon our relationship falls apart. In my dream state, I know it’s wrong- it feels abysmally wrong. Even in DreamLand it feels like a knife to the heart. I cry and tell him that this is stupid, that we shouldn’t give up and he acts indifferent. 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 awake angry with him for his dream actions) 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 makes 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.
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.