Finding clarity in the clutter of love, Part 1

Finding clarity in the clutter of long-term love

As we confront the complexities of relationships and self-discovery in our later years, we find ourselves

challenged to redefine our sense of belonging and purpose, ultimately leading to transformative healing.

I was told once that when telling a story, pretend you’re talking to a friend.

Just act like you’re talking to a friend.

A conversation with a friend

Hello friend,

Let me take you back to an August day that started like any other.

I was fresh from dropping my sister and her husband off at the airport and was staying at their house for a few weeks as a temporary caretaker for their little dog, Gracie. It was a nice day for a walk, just Gracie and me, down the tree-lined streets. But as we strolled back to the house, the peacefulness of the day was overshadowed by a chorus of loud caws. A giant crow swooped in front of me and landed on a roof nearby, soon joined by a small army of feathered friends. A murder of crows, I believe they’re called. A reminder that even in quiet moments, life has a way of asserting itself loudly. About ten of them were squawking as if delivering an urgent message. It was eerie yet strangely captivating. I remember saying to Gracie, “Are they talking to us?”

Just as I brushed off the crow encounter, my phone rang. My partner’s voice came through, and I immediately sensed something was off. “I’m sorry,” he said, his tone tense and shaky as if he was struggling not just with the words but with the significance of a decision he had just made. I listened to him as he anxiously tried to convey the weight of the situation.

A particular family member was about to arrive at our home for who knows how long. Memories of a tense and turbulent past came flooding back. The thought of them sticking around indefinitely loomed over us like an unspoken threat—unsettling and perhaps inevitable. He made his feelings clear, “I think you should move out. I’m the only one left to handle this,” he said. I heard the distance in his voice. The energy from his words hung in the air like black smoke. It felt like the walls were closing in, and I wondered how we would navigate this new reality together. Or apart. Possibly for good. The simplicity of this request was the opposite of the weight it carried. Time seemed to stand still in that moment. There was almost an absurdity to it.

This decision he made in isolation would gut our existence in so many ways. The shittiest part is I have been here before.

Life’s emotional rollercoaster

It felt like a rerun of an old family drama, the kind where the characters are always dramatic yet utterly predictable. For years, I’ve watched this play unfold, where one figure is always at the center—stirring up tension, fanning the flames of discord, leaving us all scrambling to restore peace. As the familiar ache settled in my stomach, I was left dealing with uncertainty again. It felt like I was on the tilt-a-whirl ride at my hometown fair. I hate that ride.

I don’t usually raise my voice to this degree, but standing there on the phone, my words to him spilled out like fire. Lots of words, lots of tears. I have to leave again, maybe for good. It is like death by 1000 little toxic obstacles. And nine hundred and ninety-nine of them are the same freaking issue. All of those add up to some really big feelings.

And here I am again, packing my bags with a heavy heart trying to find my footing in a place where I no longer feel safe.

The quest for control and healing

In the days, weeks and, yes, months that followed, I searched for solutions. I dove headfirst into the wild world of remedies. Seriously, I went from meditating in a sun salutation pose to trying to channel my inner mermaid with moon water. I lost days of my life watching YouTube self-help gurus, astrologists and tarot card readers to help me through a time that felt unmanageable. I was absorbed by it, but it didn’t help. Control was slipping through my fingers. I constantly worried about the future and found it challenging to remain in the present. My back ached, sleepless nights plagued me, migraines became an unwelcome companion, and let’s not even mention the eye twitch. I remember a session with my therapist where she looked me straight in the face and delivered the line that has stuck with me: “Marleah. He made a choice, and he didn’t choose you.” All my worries, hurt, and feelings of betrayal crashed down.

The sky opened up after a storm. A sign to remain hopeful?It’s normal to have feelings of anger, but holding onto resentment was taking a toll on my mental health. “It’s an emotion that we often experience when we fail to set boundaries or ask for what we need, or when expectations let us down because they were based on things we can’t control, like what other people think, what they feel, or how they’re going to react” – Brené Brown, Atlas of the Heart: Mapping Meaningful Connection and the Language of Human Experience.

I was left with the memories of what had been, accompanied by a nagging question: How can you care for someone else without losing yourself? What did it mean for the life we had carefully curated together? Surely, I was too seasoned for this endless circle of starting over, yet there I was.

To be continued…

The saga continues

Watch for part two of my saga as I try to navigate the intricacies of change and the not-so-quiet disruptions in my relationship.

Something unsettling and enchanting about this stage of life is how laughter can flicker alongside tears and how the familiar can turn weird overnight. I even sprinkle a few scientific insights to help me process my feelings.

I invite you to join me to see how it unfolds!