Typically, I'm a pretty busy person. I'm a know-how-to-keep-myself busy person. I'm an unintentionally busy person, a last-minute busy person, an overbooked-or-double-booked busy person, a social-butterfly busy person.
Several years ago, when I was going through what I will now refer to as relationship recovery mode and, essentially, an overhaul of my entire life, I remember laughing at my friend S. for having to schedule a date night with her then-boyfriend (now husband!) every week. I mean, come on. She was blocking off a night of the week for her boyfriend? How completely ridiculous, I thought. How sad, that she didn't have enough time for him in her week to just let things happen naturally! How preposterous, that they would avoid other activities and events on that night of the week in order to maximize their time together!
How cynical I was in my brokenness.
How envious.
Now I understand. The idea is far from ridiculous. The problem with being a busy person is not the being busy. The problem is that sometimes, and especially of late, I don't know how to balance things.
Like, for example, spending time with my boyfriend.
Perhaps I should explain. For the first large chunk of our relationship, J. was travelling for work. The first couple of months he spent in and around Ottawa. Then he was in Kindersley, Saskatchewan (don't ask. Apparently, he could run through the entire town, a distance of 6k from one end to the other). From there, it was Kelowna, BC for several months. Then, the best Christmas present ever - a job opportunity that would have him working a year-long contract out of Toronto starting in January.
That said, this is the first time in our relationship that we've lived in the same city on a consistent basis. I mean, it's easy to reserve time away together, which we did all through the summer; making the trip up to Ottawa, spending weekends at his cottage, the lovely week-long vacation we both took when I visited him in Kelowna for my birthday. But that's not real life. Real life is the day-to-day grind of making time for someone, making the effort to integrate the relationship into every aspect of my daily life.
It's harder, this time around. In my Before life, there was the shift work to both contend with and be thankful for: work days, I was officially available, usually for seven days at a time - and days off, we were together, whether that meant alone or within a group setting. I was accustomed to having my cake and eating it too, I suppose, when it came time to having space to do my own thing and having concentrated time to focus on the relationship.
Then the overhaul of my entire life happened. I had to re-establish who I was on my own, redefine my friendships, re-evaluate my priorities. I had to learn to be completely independent - and I was for well over two years. Now, I think that some subconscious part of me is afraid to so completely, wholly involve myself in a relationship on a daily basis because I will somehow lose the independence, the resilience I gained by walking through fire.
J. and I have spoken, jokingly, about having a 'date night'. But I knew the time had come to officially institute a night of the week reserved for each other when, yesterday morning, this line from his morning email popped out at me:
Several years ago, when I was going through what I will now refer to as relationship recovery mode and, essentially, an overhaul of my entire life, I remember laughing at my friend S. for having to schedule a date night with her then-boyfriend (now husband!) every week. I mean, come on. She was blocking off a night of the week for her boyfriend? How completely ridiculous, I thought. How sad, that she didn't have enough time for him in her week to just let things happen naturally! How preposterous, that they would avoid other activities and events on that night of the week in order to maximize their time together!
How cynical I was in my brokenness.
How envious.
Now I understand. The idea is far from ridiculous. The problem with being a busy person is not the being busy. The problem is that sometimes, and especially of late, I don't know how to balance things.
Like, for example, spending time with my boyfriend.
Perhaps I should explain. For the first large chunk of our relationship, J. was travelling for work. The first couple of months he spent in and around Ottawa. Then he was in Kindersley, Saskatchewan (don't ask. Apparently, he could run through the entire town, a distance of 6k from one end to the other). From there, it was Kelowna, BC for several months. Then, the best Christmas present ever - a job opportunity that would have him working a year-long contract out of Toronto starting in January.
That said, this is the first time in our relationship that we've lived in the same city on a consistent basis. I mean, it's easy to reserve time away together, which we did all through the summer; making the trip up to Ottawa, spending weekends at his cottage, the lovely week-long vacation we both took when I visited him in Kelowna for my birthday. But that's not real life. Real life is the day-to-day grind of making time for someone, making the effort to integrate the relationship into every aspect of my daily life.
It's harder, this time around. In my Before life, there was the shift work to both contend with and be thankful for: work days, I was officially available, usually for seven days at a time - and days off, we were together, whether that meant alone or within a group setting. I was accustomed to having my cake and eating it too, I suppose, when it came time to having space to do my own thing and having concentrated time to focus on the relationship.
Then the overhaul of my entire life happened. I had to re-establish who I was on my own, redefine my friendships, re-evaluate my priorities. I had to learn to be completely independent - and I was for well over two years. Now, I think that some subconscious part of me is afraid to so completely, wholly involve myself in a relationship on a daily basis because I will somehow lose the independence, the resilience I gained by walking through fire.
J. and I have spoken, jokingly, about having a 'date night'. But I knew the time had come to officially institute a night of the week reserved for each other when, yesterday morning, this line from his morning email popped out at me:
Hey Love, can I see you this weekend!?!?!?!
Nope, I'm not exaggerating. That's exactly the number of exclamation marks and question marks there were. And it hit me - I make time, consistently, for every other activity, every other social event, every other friend or family member first. This week alone it was dinner and late-night drinks with friends from theatre school on Monday; makeup trials on Tuesday night with my brother's fiancee and all the bridesmaids for the upcoming wedding; coffee and shopping with a beloved friend on Wednesday evening. In and of themselves, these things are completely justifiable, completely reasonable...but this is every week! Where is there time for him? Without consciously, as I so cynically thought before, blocking off that time?
So, then, date night. A night that, even as cautious as I am about losing myself completely to a relationship again, I know I need on a very fundamental level, if only because one of my primary love languages is Quality Time. Although my absolute primary love language is Words of Affirmation, I am also a person who needs undivided attention through 'alone time'. And, although we've never really spoken about it, so does J. (note: we'll definitely speak about it later!). Knowing this, I have realized that by not making time with him a priority, I am not enabling either of us to feel as loved as we need to feel.
So, not sure yet which day, or how exactly we'll stick to it between his soccer practices and games; my studio recording, music rehearsals and performances; our fluctuating work schedules; and, of course, our social calendars...
But we'll make it work.
Date night it is.
http://www.5lovelanguages.com/
1. Words of Affirmation
Actions don't always speak louder than words. If this is your primary language, unsolicited compliments mean the world to you. Hearing the words, "I love you," are important - hearing the reasons behind that love sends your spirits skyward. Insults can leave you shattered and are not easily forgotten.
2. Quality Time
In the vernacular of Quality Time, nothing says "I love you" like full, undivided attention. Being there for this person is critical, but really being there - with the TV off, fork and knife down, and all chores and tasks on standby - makes your significant other feel truly special and loved. Distractions, postponed dates or the failure to listen can be really hurtful.
3. Physical Touch
This language isn't all about the bedroom. A person whose primary language is Physical Touch is, not surprisingly, very touchy. Hugs, pats on the back, holding hands, and thoughtful touches on the arm, shoulder, or face - they can all be ways to show excitement, concern, care, and love. Physical presence and accessibility are crucial, while neglect or abuse can be unforgivable and destructive.
4. Acts of Service
Can vacuuming the floors really be an expression of love? Absolutely! Anything you do to ease the burden of responsibilities on an "Acts of Service" person will speak volumes. The words he or she most want to hear: "Let me do that for you." Laziness, broken commitments, and making more work for them tell speakers of this language their feelings don't matter.
5. Receiving Gifts
Don't mistake this love language for materialism; the receiver of gifts thrives on the love, thoughtfulness and effort behind the gift. If you speak this language, the perfect gift or gesture shows that you are known, you are cared for, and you are prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to you. A missed birthday, anniversary, or a hasty, thoughtless gift would be disastrous - so would the absence of everyday gestures.
1 comment:
This made me smile. In every way.
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