(Everything I do) I do it for you

Yesterday during my exercise class at the gym we were working out to 80s music and the instructor asked us to suggest an artist for our cooldown song. "Bryan Adams!" came out of my mouth without hesitation.

This is the song that came on, and I know it's cheesy, but I kinda like it, and so do 64 million other people (that's how many times the video has been viewed).

I think one of the reasons I've been reluctant to blog lately is I've been waiting for a song that helps me explain or at least put into words what happened in my relationship and how I got to where we are today, which is officially back together.

I don't think this is the perfect song by any means, but I'm tired of feeling cut off from one of my favorite creative outlets, so I'm just going to let it rip: I feel a little bit silly, a little bit embarassed -- I've never been before and have never seen myself as someone who would break up and get back together with the same person multiple times. No, I'm far too in control for that. Or thought I was. Yep, that last sentence is far more accurate than the one preceding it, and slowly, painfully, I am beginning to acknowledge that truth.

So what happened? For my part, anyway, it's pretty simple. I got scared. Multiple times. And when I got scared, I lost the ability (temporarily, thankfully) to trust my heart and my body, neither of which have ever had any confusion about their adoration for my young-at-heart New Englander.

Instead of trusting, I receded, hoping to protect myself from future heartbreak. Never mind that what I was actually doing was closer to causing myself and my beloved unneeded heartbreak, but it takes a while to learn these things. I'm so grateful for all the tools that help me stay open, or at least return to open when I've "gone away" as my therapist described the behavior when it happened in my marriage.

It's true, I had good reason to form this means of self-protection, but I don't need it anymore, and I don't want it. I'm ready to do it differently. To let myself be vulnerable. To have what is true in the present moment be enough.

And over and over again, in the present moment, including this one, I am finding this to be true with my love:

Look into my eyes, you will see
What you mean to me
Search your heart, search your soul
And when you find me there
You'll search no more...

Postscript from the bike ride to and experience at yoga this morning: On my way to class, I kept hearing the same lyrics over and over again...

Don't tell me it's not worth fighting for
I can't help it
There's nothing I want more

And then I got to yoga, one of my tools for staying open, and the teacher kept talking about how when we're grounded, we're more able to listen to our instincts. And how when we feel some stability, we're more likely to take risks and trust our heart.

This independence day, I'm celebrating the stability I've gained over the last few years. It hasn't been easy, but the rewards that come with being grounded in who I am and what I know to be true are huge.