I Miss You Too
Recently, I sent a text saying, “Even though I saw you yesterday it feels like it’s been a lot longer.” He responded, “Are you saying you miss me?” My mouth went dry, and my chest caved in as my inhales sped to short shallow breaths. My palms were slick, and I rubbed them back and forth on the thighs of my jeans. “Miss him?” I thought. My inner voice screamed, “I will not allow myself to miss anyone! I’m a whole person. I can love myself, heal myself, take care of myself in every way. I change all my own lightbulbs goddamnit and I am certainly not a woman who misses someone.” Pffff. Plleease. No way.
In that moment, I felt missing someone implied that there was something absent in my life. A missing a sock, a missing an ingredient for a recipe, a missing piece for that self-assembled Ikea night table. Nuh- uh, not me. I am not missing anything, and if I am, I got it covered all by myself. I don’t feel empty or incomplete, I’m not pining away for him, so missing him seemed extreme. Missing can mean you need a certain part or piece to be whole, or it can mean you’re disconnected as in, ‘I missed what you said’, in essence saying ‘I don’t get it.’ In fact, they are opposite meanings when you think about it.
Maybe it’s a matter of linguistics. Would it be possible for me to wish I was with someone without feeling dependent, or pathetic and needy? After breaking free from a deadly snare of a marriage that most don’t have the courage, or strength to escape, I feared that missing someone was a gateway drug back to a dysfunctional relationship. Allowing myself to be raw and vulnerable is difficult. I’ve been betrayed and deceived. Of course, I’m going to be hesitant, and terrified in new relationships. If I say I miss him, does that mean I can’t handle my life without him? Do I need his ingredient to make my favorite cupcakes? Will the batter not rise without him? I strive to depend on myself and missing someone feels like an open admission that someone is filling a need.
As our texts continued, I remained aloof and guarded. The poor guy. To his credit he hung in there and tried to decipher my defensive words while he reminded me of the respect, admiration and trust we share. In essence he was saying, “It’s safe to miss me.” I closed my eyes and calmed my racing thoughts. His words soothed my skeptical thoughts, and I steadily understood that missing someone can coexist with independence. I can trust myself to be complete on my own yet acknowledge that even mundane activities could be more enjoyable if we were doing them together. While I know the supermarket, carwash and cooking dinner are basic tasks for me, they sure would be more fun with him making me laugh with his silly sound effects while racing the shopping cart from aisle to aisle.
I seem to get caught up in defining emotional words, overthinking the meaning before I can own the feeling. It only took about two days for me to psychoanalyze the implications of missing someone to accept the terminology. Hi, my name is Leslie, and today I’m admitting there is someone I miss when we aren’t together. Deep breaths to follow.