instinct

"You have not lost your instincts. Somewhere deep inside you still have them."

I felt as though someone had sucker punched me when I heard those words from the woman sitting across from me, looking straight at me, as if- knowing I could not do it on my own- she was attempting to find my instincts for me and pull them out and lay them in front of me. I could see my own helplessness reflected in the empathy on her face.

The punch in my gut came from the sudden realization that I had not been drawing on the instinct put on my heart by the Creator- the part of a woman that makes her the receiver of unconditional love.  I had suppressed that natural instinct each woman is given to respond to the care of a man who guards, protects and cherishes. Instead, out of necessity to protect my own peace and the little people placed in my care, I had learned to react. I learned to ignore, cover up, forget, and accept things such as angry and violent  outbursts, name-calling, public manipulations, (the kind that trapped me in a corner leaving me to either give in quietly or invoke a loud argument and draw embarrassing attention to my family) and other forms of gas-lighting that suppressed who I could have been. I learned to balance and defuse each situation with counter manipulations in order to get out the door and make it to Mass or to the extended family gathering without children crying.  As these reactions became my nature,  instincts were not only buried deep, but forgotten.

And then she told me the instincts were still there. And I wept. Did I weep at the realization that I had suppressed the instincts? or the hope of finding them? or the fear of not being able to ....

I question the motives of others. With my separation, came a mistrust. I thought I couldn't trust another [man] but then I did find one I could trust.
I felt safe for the first time in my adult life. And yet I second guessed myself in everything. I was more comfortable within my skin than I knew was possible, yet because I feared another loss, I clung too tightly.  After pushing him away with my insecurities, with my need to be rescued, with my obsession with his feelings, with my need for total involvement,  I figured out that the person I couldn't trust was myself. 
As much as I had been controlled and manipulated over the past twenty seven years, I hadn't realized how I much I had become the emotional architect, as I tried to make every step and every turn perfect, as I tried to convince this person that I could be everything his heart desired, and everything he needed in a woman.
As I type, I weep and I feel my insides turning up from my core...

I have had the fear that I won't get another chance at happiness (or romantic love), not only because of my age and my station in life, but because I don't know how to receive unconditional love.
I KNOW how to live my part in a healthy relationship. I know what it takes. In my mind, I can orchestrate the lines, the steps, the entire part.
But the leading man with whom I danced for more than a quarter of a century never took dance lessons; he wasn't taught the right steps. So as I attempted to follow his lead- as the woman is created to do- I had to watch every step as to not step on his toes, and as I tip-toed around the dance floor, I lost the grace and flow that was planted as a seed deep inside. Then when the new leading man stepped out onto the dance floor and took my hand in his, I stumbled around tripping, trying to anticipate the next step and be ready on the right foot. He said over and over again, "Relax, just be you." So badly I wanted to just follow his lead; "I know this dance! I do!" but my feet wouldn't listen and in one moment I stood still not moving, and the next I tried to take the lead,  and I pushed him right off the dance floor.

Then the woman sitting across from me reminded me that I am the child of two people who were deeply in love. They were not perfect and their marriage was not perfect. But because of them, I do have instinct- somewhere inside of me is the ability to respond and receive love. I didn't learn all the right dance steps from them. Lord knows they stumbled on that dance floor more than once. But he loved her, and she responded with graceful steps.
Linda, listen. It's deep inside of you. You have this dance inside of you. The music was your lullaby when you were a little girl. The score is written on your heart. Listen, and you will dance again.