Currents

Friday is the day we're all waiting for from the moment we open our eyes Monday mornings.
This one was no different.
After the gym and my classes I loaded up my car and made the few hour journey back home.
I guided my poor old car through the exit, to the stop light, took a right, went for five miles, took a left, then surged down the street to park by his house.
Keys, phone, windows up, locked my car, barreling out.
It didn't matter that I don't have AC and it's still hot,
Or that my hair was a mess from the windows down, deodorant tapping out.
As soon as I knocked on his door his face exploded into a smile, wrapping me into a eager hug.

We stripped down to underwear, skin sticky from the dying summer.
Getting ready to shower, he stopped and cupped my face in his hands.
His blue eyes looked into my green ones, smiling softly and kissing me gently.
It had been an endless battle for years to not want to unzip my skin and walk out as the person I wanted to be.
As he tipped my head down and kissed my forehead, telling me how beautiful I was, I actually believed him.
I think it was in that moment, the beginning moment of many moments this past weekend, that I realized I was ready to move on with my life.
At a young age I was raised on the victim mentality diet.
Sexual abuse and then watching your mother cave to your controlling father made for a merry go round of emotions, thoughts, and feelings that were constantly being enforced.
I think you just eventually learn that how you feel and how reality is doesn't always line up, so hold on.
Put the happiness of other before yours.
Don't cry.
Look beautiful on the outside, even if you wither away inside.
Hide the dirty of your decay under the aspiration of others.
You are not valid. Crazy. Unjustified.
It's not the expectations of others that truly gets us in the end, it's the cages we constructed, thinking it would keep them out, but locking us in.
In that moment, with the water rushing over us, wrapped in another hug he's always so generous with, I just wanted to be naked, in every way I had never let myself.

He let me play a few crappy pop songs mixed in with our favorite metal bands and talked endlessly about this or that.

Always an ease of laughter between us. 

We pulled into his brother's driveway and unloaded our things, his family greeting me like I belonged. 

When it was finally time for bed, he lay with his arm around me, shifting throughout the night to be close to me once again if we had rolled apart. 

Saturday morning was a rush of packing food and beer and then his brother, sister-in-law, her sister and her sister's husband, he, and I loaded into cars to head to the river. 

We took a few wrong turns and his brother and sister-in-law bickered over the map. 

You couldn't help but smile because you know they're one of those couples that don't mean it. 

Stopping to get her friend, she introduced me as the "future sister-in-law." 

I had a smile that could split my face in half. 

We finally reached the river after multiple bathroom breaks for her newly pregnant sister and already the temperature had reached 90's. 

By 1 pm we were in a tank floating down the river. 

What is tanking? 

Well, if you happen to be from a rural area and you happen to be close to a river, or you go to either of these places, you may participate in this summer past time. 

Just put a stock tank (usually for horses and cows) into the river and float down it. 

As we floated along, stopping for breaks at sand banks and the occasional climb to conquer a very steep side of sand, I slipped into the ease that is familiarity, new as it was. 
He opened another beer for me and I leaned back, letting the perfect day soak into my chest while his brother teased me about something. 
His sister-in-laws and friend talked and nagged as married women seemed to do.
Since beginning my lifting journey, I can now eat as much as his brother in one sitting, adopting a little joke now and then.
My eating disorder remains silent through the whole thing, no guilt. 
I have yet to find out why.
When someone would be sarcastic or tease L would lean over and tell me he loved me, laughing softly. 
There was something so perfect about that afternoon, something like comfort and belonging. 

One of my very good friends for over seven years, now the person I would be spending my life with.
"She told me you guys talked when you were swimming, said that she thinks the only thing stopping you from proposing early is what everyone would think." I teased. 
"Yah, I just told her that you know when you know. She said she knew you were the one the day at the lake before we were together. I guess when we went to the car she went to the window to see if we would kiss. Did we?" 
"Of course," kissing his cheek. 
"I remember I went upstairs when you got up to go to the bathroom so that I could kiss you in the hallway." 
I can't explain what happened this weekend, but something was different.
I know that we've only started dating, but going on our seventh year of being friends, it's like it's been forever.
It didn't matter who was around, he would hold my hand, stroke my arm, hug me, kiss my forehead or cheek.
It was so simple and nothing like angsty PDA.
Except when we got back, only us in the house while they went to pick up their son from the neighbors, lips finding each other, fingers twisting around his curls.
Like life had aligned correctly for once, situated where it should be.
Our families know that we want to date for marriage and they're okay with it, happy even.
I guess I never thought I would be there.
I probably sound like one of those girls even, the ones the string hopes likes beads on the string of denial.
It's different.
I promise.
There's never been someone that wanted the same things I did or wanted to put in the amount of work I did.
Until now. Why not hold on?

I've never been adored.
I've never been showered in such love.
We talked as soon as we got home, laying there on his futon.
Something about the future, our plans to find an apartment when I got accepted into grad school, about emotions we felt, memories that I didn't want to fade, then jokes.
I told him I wanted to learn to connect my emotions with our physical relationship, a big step in any victim's recovery.
I don't think of things like I did before, tainted with self-hatred and that starving depression.
Now, I just cry when there's too much to do.
Guilt still lingers for Tony as our talking becomes less and less, me unable to answer his questions or the pain ridden messages.
I can't make sense of myself or what I did. I don't know how or why or anything I should.
Every day will be a little easier.
I got on the scale Friday after food and water and clothes to find it at 145.
I don't think I've felt ugly or fat much since we've been together, something I'm grateful for.
Somehow I'm able to acknowledge my strengths and weaknesses both and be okay with them, for the most part.
Unless it comes to Tony... Deep roots to pull up there.

That's where life has come to.
And I wish you could see our smiles when we take pictures, and I wish you could know how much better I feel about things.
Not like I need him, but maybe he was what I needed.
I am growing up. Finally.
I hope and pray I'll get into my master's program.
I'm not so cynical about marriage.
I could consider having kids.
There is a side of me that's for me, the one I closed off, taking down a bar at a time.

Maybe it's not so wrong to be happy.
Maybe, maybe it's okay to grow into me.