The approval I need from others can be stifling, and it’s not clear exactly why my own self assurance will never be enough. What’s clear to me is that I began 2008 with a self esteem level somewhere near the core of the earth and I’ve been slowly mining my way up to the surface, hand in hand with my friends and dragging behind me various fellows who have one or two pieces of my broken jigsaw puzzle.
So I sit at the ocean’s edge in early October, I‘ve accompanied Samantha to Far Rockaway to watch her surf. The sun is warm enough to make small beads of sweat on my forehead and a pool of it in my overactive armpit. The breeze is perfect though; strong and pungent. I am wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt, certainly the most overdressed on the beach aside from the surfers who are clad in cold weather wetsuits. I am comfortable.
This is my first beach trip since traveling to Mexico in February. It’s hard to believe how much my life has changed since the winter. Cancun was a girls trip that we planned the previous autumn, paid for in full before I’d packed my first bags to leave 208 in the last week of January.
I’d taken up residence on the other half of Sam’s bed for an undetermined amount of time while I decided what the hell to do about my spiraling marriage. Looking back now I can recall the voice in the far corners of my brain chanting a fight song about divorce beginning the very first night I was gone.
But between that dark recess and the parts of me that created action lay bricks of fear and insecurity. Like sound proofing, there was no way for the message to be heard without a little demolition. I felt like a kid psyching herself out to go on a haunted house ride, to jump from the high limb of a tree; if I just waited long enough I would have the guts.
At first my temporary residence in Crown Heights was fun, a fantasy Sam and I always had was to live together. Since her divorce from Evan we talked about it a little more, both knowing me still being married would make that scenario awkward. In the first weeks of our time as the Odd Couple we cooked together, went to the gym together, and watched lots of movies. In fact, those three things were about all I could do. But as time passed it was clear my stay was getting a little old for the both of us. Each night we’d climb into bed with our respective reading material and chat in between paragraphs. Eventually she’d fold her book back together and I politely took this as a cue for bedtime. It was at times hilarious, pathetic, annoying, but mostly always touching. My time living with Sam has cemented itself in the foundation of my new core, the one I work on rebuilding everyday.
Mexico approached quickly and I had given myself a deadline. I would make a decision there and go into full action once I got back to New York; intense couples counseling or steps to separation. Again, my mind was really made up. I just needed these five days in the ocean to take my last breaths of courage. And that’s exactly what I did.
One afternoon when the water was a bit cool for Sam’s liking, I was floating in the turquoise calm thinking about my marriage vows. This was a sticking point for me in my decision to leave; hadn’t I promised to love unconditionally, to honor a bond through anything? I was afraid I was, as E would say, getting too tired and bailing. I stared at my toes peeking up through the water in front of me sporting a fresh pedicure courtesy of Samantha. Through the clear water I could see my the rest of my form and leaning my head back into the water I felt freedom barreling down on it. Weightlessness, calm, warm sun.
It was that day I retook my vows. On this day, my vows were to the form under the water, emerging in parts for brief moments and disappearing under again with laps of Caribbean ocean. The next day Sam and I went parasailing; an activity I was petrified to do, but I ached to indulge the adventurous side of myself, the one who hadn’t made a real decision in far too long, let alone a potentially bad one.
Up in the air three hundred feet, tethered to tiny boat, I inhaled my last gutless breath . I would start looking for my own place as soon as we got back to New York.
Months later Sam and I were back at the sea shore. I watched from my blanket as she braved the waves, one after another. I was willing her to stand, just once, and ride it out. Her perseverance with surfing was beyond admirable. She had made a decision to learn something completely new and was embracing it wholly. I suppose we both were, in our own ways. A test of emotional strength for me, physical strength for her. Willing each other to stand all along.
