This post is the fourth in a series. (Please read posts here, here, and here first, if you haven’t yet!)
“I love you,” he said quietly one afternoon. It was almost a whisper, but I heard it. I couldn’t say it back, so I wrapped my arms around his middle and squeezed him tightly.
They became more frequent — these professions of love that I couldn’t reciprocate (not honestly, anyway). I explained my hesitancy, why I couldn’t say it back, and he replied that he wasn’t bothered, that he just felt happy to express himself. I wasn’t that naïve, though. If it hadn’t already, the lack of balance would surely begin to gnaw at the fabric of the relationship we had built over the previous few months.
I wasn’t sure if I loved him. Maybe I did? What does it feel like to be in love? I struggled to remember. I certainly liked him and liked spending time with him. And I could sometimes even imagine a future with him. But I’m indecisive. And my indecision was, yet again, bleeding into my love life.
One of my favorite pieces of wisdom had come to me years before from my therapist, who told me that I may never really know the right answer when it comes to any decision. Life is about making your best guesses, taking steps forward on a path, and then reevaluating and making new decisions. What is my gut telling me now? (Note: even with this framework, I still struggle tremendously. More on Relationship—Obsessive Compulsive Disorder soon.)
Bolstered by sleepiness and wine one night, I decided to say it back. I whispered, “I love you, too.” I know he heard it because he squeezed my hand a little tighter.
I wish I could say I felt lighter, fulfilled, and in love after the moment passed. But I felt neutral first and stressed second. My mind began to swirl as I checked for my own reaction. Did I feel like I was supposed to feel now? Or had I made a mistake?
