When What You Want Isn’t What You Need

I loved being a wife. Like most little girls, conditioned by a patriarchal, romance crazed, society, I had dreamed of motherhood and wifehood for as long as I could remember. Tightly, I held onto memories of my mother, cooking meals and setting the table and sitting close to my dad on the couch at night. My parents divorced when I was young, and though the tender memories of their partnership are few, I knitted them into the very fabric of my ‘ideal life’. 

The ‘giving’ that is required for partnership has always come easily for me. Give my attention, give my mental space, give pleasure, give  affection, give my time, give my resources, give all of me. (If you’re reading this and shaking your head, and hearing “DANGER! DANGER!” Where were you during my formative years?!) I truly believed that if I gave enough, to every facet of my life, I would be rewarded with what I wanted. And so, I gave until there was nothing left of me. 

Months after my divorce was finalized, I looked at myself in the mirror, and cried at the sight of the unrecognizable face. I mean, it was me, but it also wasn’t me. My eyes were sunken in, my face, usually characterized by high cheekbones, was hollow. My hair had been coming out in clumps for years and was dry, brittle and thinning beyond repair. Already naturally thin, I had lost about 5 pounds, which for my frame, looks concerning. I truly believe that our physical self is a manifestation of our emotional, mental, and spiritual health. This corpse of a reflection indicated that I was dry and dead, and sadly,  I had no idea how to be revived or rejuvenated.

I thought about what I wanted. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be acknowledged and seen. I wanted to be happy and to get over all of the disappointments and hurt and trauma and regret that can happen in a decade. I wanted to let loose and have fun, and be the me that I deserved to be. So, I did what seemed logical at the moment. I put in a new set of crochet locs, bought a new bag, got on the dating apps and let the attention of fine ass men gas me up. I began dating  and “talking to” men who most would consider ‘prime pickings’: an Air Force pilot, a former athlete, a celebrity chef. These men would’ve been the perfect Taye Diggs to my Angela Basset for my “How Stella Got Her Groove Back” moment. And, I mean, they were. Though I was cautious, I was looking forward to falling in love again. I know how to be in love. I know how to, through my actions, show and express love. I was so ready to give again. 

But this time, things felt different.

The first time that I had an indoor movie date, Mr. Man offered to make me vegan tacos and then, homemade French fries, since I am obsessed with fries of all varieties. A few weeks later, when we had to change the time of a date to a later time one evening, he asked what nail salon I’d like to go to, to get whatever I wanted to make up for the time. When I had cramps and didn’t want to leave my house or socialize, he drove 30 minutes to bring me J.R. Crickets (if you know, you KNOW) massage my feet, and then bounce. He once left work early, went shopping with my measurements memorized, and brought me an item that I needed for a quick turnaround audition. 

This felt…wonderful and yet, so foreign. I started to feel livelier and energetic. And yet, with the restored energy, I wanted only to spend it on myself. I was enjoying this feeling of receiving, but it felt wrong. This wasn’t the way that I was used to functioning. I loved cozy nights in with him, but I also looked forward to days alone. Through therapy, I was learning how to do simple things that focused on myself and my own needs. Going to the grocery store with a list that was only made up of the things that I wanted. (That sounds so simple, but being a stay at home mom and wife who did all of the grocery shopping, my focus was always on everyone else’s needs and dietary preferences.) Watching the shows that I wanted, taking bubble baths every night if I wanted. The best days are when I’m able to usher out the shame of needing rest, and when my children are with their dad, I sleep in, order out, and spend an entire day in silence. 

Once while spending time together and doing nothing in particular with my dating partner, I began to become cognizant of a deep sadness and almost like a film, saw all of the beautiful parts of my life that I had at one point and missed so terribly during marriage and motherhood. Dancing, writing, going out and drinking, vacationing (well, I’ve truly never gone on a real vacation, but I always thought I would as an adult!), laughing (which I did a lot of in this relationship, thankfully), being a violinist. I had been saving money for a few years to buy a new instrument as my last had damages beyond proper repair. It never seemed like the right time to purchase it. Even though my violin and classical music was such a major part of my life, throughout the entirety of my eleven year marriage, I couldn’t remember one time picking up my instrument, with the exception of a performance in which a director incorporated the skill into my role. 

So, I sat up, and told my date “Hey, I’m gonna go and buy a violin.” And I did. I left his place, went to the local Luthier, and spent about an hour playing on different instruments to find my new baby. The employee sat and listened to me playing bits of Bach, Bruch, Vivaldi, Mendelssohn, and we compared the tone and warmth of the different instruments to find what I was looking for. “Try this one” the employee suggested, bringing a new addition to my bunch. Immediately I melted at the warmth of the tone and the ease in projection. This was the one. When I checked the tag on the tuning peg, I realized it was out of my price range. 

“Take it. For the price you wanted. You need to be able to play like that all the time”.

I had tears in my eyes. I paid and packed the instrument up, and thanked him profusely. I went into my car and just sat. 

That was the most impulsive decision that I had made in the past decade of my life. I had just spent a shit ton of money, but money that I had to spend, but would have never spent on myself in previous years. Also, I was just sitting around doing nothing. With someone I very much enjoyed, but still just doing nothing, because that was my way of giving at that time. Giving my energy and time and presence. But I realized that I felt incapable of giving much. I felt depleted and tired. I wanted to give. I wanted to give so much; but I what I needed was simply to receive. 

I wanted to give. I needed to receive. 

That night, my dating partner asked to hear me play my favorite piece. Tears sprang to my eyes. Besides that one production that I played in for work, I hadn’t been asked about my music, and definitely not to share my art in more than a decade. It was this…once so significant, now buried part of me that had just been exposed. I began to play Borowski’s 'Adoration’. This was a solo that I performed in front of a few hundred people when I was 13. It was the piece that gained my admission into my prestigious high school. It was this piece and the applause that followed all those years ago, that made me aware of how good it feels to have something worthy of giving. After the first three measures, I felt a flicker in my stomach. Excitement, relief, but moreso, an unshedding of myself. And then I stopped abruptly. This felt good. And it felt special and intimate. And I needed this moment of reconnecting all to myself.

And thus, began a new season. There are so many things that I wanted that were not what I needed. The things that we want are often the things that feel and taste and look so damn good, but they have no nutritional or substantive value. I wanted the marriage that lasted until death dealt a pause. I wanted my children to have one happy home. 

I needed something different.

I wanted to fall in love again. I wanted to heal quickly and move on with my life. I wanted to book all of the jobs and live my best life ever. 

But what I need at this moment is time. Time to receive from the universe and God and ancestors that surround me and that fill me with wisdom through dreams and gentle whispers that flutter through my mind in the midst of peaceful silence. I need to learn how to give me all of me. To invest in myself, to prioritize myself and place myself at the center of my own life. 

I’ve started doing things that make me feel amazing. I work out. I go to dance classes regularly. I practice my violin regularly and my children enjoy listening to my practicing downstairs as their lullabies to sleep. I practice yoga and meditation. I have began writing again, and am in the process of having my work edited and I have a goal of publication in the near future. I am in the process of working towards my certification to become a dyslexia specialist, and am also still busting my ass auditioning. I completed my Business Communications certificate from Duke University. I received a certificate in Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. And I’m really enjoying motherhood. More than I ever have. I feel closer and more available to my children. They come to me and talk freely about things that bother them. We play often and laugh hard together. We stay up on weekends and watch movies and have dance parties and eat sweets and pop popcorn and play laser tag.

I take it all in. I receive all of the love and inspiration that the universe gives so very freely, and I just soak that shit up.

When I’m ready to give again, it will look so much different. Honestly, I can’t even imagine what that will be like, because right now, in this very moment, all I’m focused on, is what I need. I need rest. And restoration. I truly believe that what we all  need is a little more of ‘ourselves’ and a lot less of everyone else. 

Because you, as my Queen, Toni Morrison wrote in her novel, ‘Beloved’, you are most certainly, your own best thing. 

May you always, always, have everything that you need. 

Love, Tereva.