Heartache

Contrary to my last post only a week ago, living in Houston is not sounding that appealing anymore. Thursday night, Dan broke up with me. Ultimately we’re not equally yoked; his feelings for me are not as strong as mine are for him, and that isn’t fair to either of us.

To say “We need to talk” flew in far left-field, that it threw me for a curve ball, it utterly blind-sided me… all would be understatements. Lord knows I wouldn’t have been publicly writing about how awesome it is to be living in the same city otherwise. It was surreal; as he spoke, it felt like everything was in slow-motion. My thoughts jumped to the conclusion that weeks of off-the-grid separation this past summer at camp brought me to: that if Dan and I ever broke up, I would be okay. But that was theoretical. As it took place I could not really absorb that it was actually happening. I was too shocked for tears  - it was a comically emotionless, cordial conversation, talking out future logistics, and how long he had been thinking about this, and finally verbalizing the primary question that has plagued my internal thoughts the last few months: Why don’t you love me?

Unrequited love is the worst.

I sucked in a big gulp of air. “Well. I don’t really know what else to say…”

Silence.

“I’m gonna go now.”

“Okay.”

Okay?! No this is not okay! What the hell is happening right now?? 

Just like a disastrous tornado materializing out of the abyss, in the course of half an hour, one of the most important people in my life uprooted massive pieces of my heart and left me to sift through the debris and damage.

I need affirmation, and that hadn’t been doled out in abundance. I was more committed, I was all in. I wasn’t ready to get married in the next two years, but I was still more ready than he was. I tried not to base too much of my future on him, but I’m sure I did in my sub-conscience anyway. I verbalized on multiple occasions that sometimes all I could trust in was the reality that we were indeed still dating and hadn’t broken up. That there must be something worth pursuing in this. Evidently it was time to not trust that anymore. Even I knew the contrasting amounts of affection we had toward each other was an issue, but I tried to be as present as possible, to be patient. I figured time would remedy the difference in feelings; it will just take longer for him.

What sucks is that his lack of romantic feelings toward me is really the only major issue I knew of in our relationship. That fact became increasingly difficult to deal with the longer we dated. Unfortunately, it’s a pretty integral problem, and no amount of compatibility and fun times together can overcome it.

I admit that I was too emotionally attached. I did not guard my heart very well. But I can’t help it. I write more on this blog than a solid 99% of people would ever reveal about their thoughts and feelings. It is a direct parallel, though, to the way I also live. I’m not very good at holding back. I’m an open book. I give almost everything my all, be it relationships, work, or hobbies. This is not just a Dan thing. It is simply how I live, who I am, and who I will always be. Most of the time, I think it is a good quality about myself. It allows me to love others well and pursue them intentionally.

But I am currently incurring the negative repercussions for loving with abandon. I loved big, and now I’m hurting equally as badly. Damn it’s painful.

I have watched enough chick-flicks and listened to enough country songs to know that break ups suck. Going through it yourself is another experience entirely. Raw emotion. Vulnerability. All your insides getting thrown in a blender and dumped out. Restless nights and little sleep. Feeling pretty stable, and then, nope, think again, here comes the next contraction of pain, another wave of breakdowns. I was dry-eyed talking to him, but, as I called my two best friends after he left, that did not last long. I cried the next morning on the way to work and in-between some team huddles at school. My mantra for the day was Just a few more hours JComp. Get it together. In an act of the Lord’s providence (and probably well-thought-out timing on Dan’s part), I happened to be going to Greenville to reunite with the Compton Clan for Furman family weekend. The mantra did not work all the way to South Carolina. The tears streamed as I gulped down bland Panda Express vegetables in the airport food court. They streamed harder in the corner of the IAH bathroom. A concerned middle-aged woman came up to me.

“Honey is there anything I can do?”

“Just give me a hug!” I heaved.

She, mother to four daughters, did, holding and consoling me.

“I’ll pray for you on my flight.”

On my own flight, I wanted to send out a PSA to the concerned and curious fellow plane passengers who kept looking behind at me, the girl who couldn’t hold it together: My heart was broken last night, and it’s still very shattered. My apologies for the next two hours of congested nose-blowings and breathless heaves.

There’s been a lot more crying since then too.

I figured the sobs were inevitable, further exacerbated by PMS. Awesome. What I wasn’t prepared for were the physical manifestations of grief - nausea, lack of appetite, an upset stomach, even upchucking in the toilet.

In a way, that’s really what this is, too: grief, which I have been fortunate enough to not have experienced an abundance of in my life. Goodbye man that matters so much to me. Except, oh wait, you’re still alive, you’re twenty minutes from me, and I have to cut you out anyway. And all the people I know through you. Like your family, who I like a lot, and many of the friends you’ve introduced me to. So here we go open heart surgery. 

It’s not just a one-time operation though. Every time I wake up, it’s like the surgeons missed a piece. I re-internalize reality, and the stitches rip back open, just to feel the searing pain in its fullness all over again. Who do I want to seek for support? The very person I cannot. Every time I see something beautiful, like the sunset as I boarded the plane, or hear something funny, who do I want to share it with? The one who has been ripped from me. This hurts so bad! Why Jesus??

Fortunately, there is Jesus. Dan is not my foundation and my center. Christ is. A rudimentary but fundamental lesson I re-learned over the summer at Camp Timberline is that Jesus is Enough. (If you’ve got eight minutes, click the link and watch the YouTube video. It’s worth it.) He is my rock, my salvation, and my hope. He does love me and pursue me, even unto death, and He is good, regardless of circumstance. My takeaway leaving camp and semi-officially entering young adulthood was that Jesus would be faithful, no matter what. He has been. He is. He will continue to be.

He has showered scriptural promises upon me and surrounded me with prayer and support from friends and mentors. In the last forty-eight hours, I have been reminded how abundant those loved ones in my life are. I can only imagine how much more miserable this past weekend would have been without the stronghold and presence of my family anchoring me.

Rennie, a woman I consider to be a second mom, had some of the most helpful wisdom.

Oh Jess… Most of me wants to say how sorry I am…and I am, precious girl…Another part wants to say, good heavens, there is so much ahead of you!!!! Although I know how much you have invested in that relationship, if it’s not time for it to culminate, then take a breath…let it go…You’ll be headed on a great adventure soon, to grad school…to foreign lands…space can be a wonderful thing…for freedom, for focus on what means the most to you. There is such happiness ahead for you Jessica Compton. You are the best, and the best will come to you. Love you.

My mom looked at me squarely this morning and said, “Jessica. You are the same person you have always been. You are going to be okay.” 

As hard as it is to believe them now, I know they are right. I fear the next two and a half months in Houston will be nearly unbearable, but the initial clouds of this breakup are already dissipating to rationale and perspective. There will certainly be very tough days. There will also be new days, though, where I embrace the freedom and autonomy of singleness with a really good relationship under my belt. 

Dan told me Thursday that he had enjoyed all the time we’ve spent together these last 11 months. I agree, it has been great. I am hurting now, but I’m not walking away from this scarred. In my sister’s church this morning, the sermon series they are going through is on dating and marriage (Of course. More tearing up ensued.) The pastor reminded the congregation that dating is not usually for the “one.” It is for exploring the “kind.” It looks like Dan is not the one, but he is the kind of man for me. We had a good relationship, and he is a good person, that I know. But I also know that I yearn for a man to be head over heels for me, to pursue me and protect me and love me. So as painful as it is right now, I am also thankful that Dan first gave us a really good shot, but also had the courage to not lead me on. 

Amidst the heartbreak, I will be entering a period of recovery. I am grateful that I have time to ready myself now, rather than in December when I will be dealing with other transitions. God especially puts us through times of testing when he is preparing to use us for Kingdom building (James 1:2-4). I submit myself to his refining fire for the rest of this season, entering the new year as a shining light for Him. Despite the mess I am now, there will be good and growth that come from this. I will trust that promise.

H-Town Life: The Same Place!

 It never occurred to me that a city could, quite literally, run off of oil. Of course, all major cities consume energy, but Houston, as the hub of the U.S. oil and gas industry, stands apart. My boyfriend Dan is just as cynical toward this mountain-less, adventure-desolate city as he is optimistic about nearly anything else. He instilled a premature prejudice against Houston in me because he dislikes it so much. Forty feet above sea level, the greatest “elevation” gains are fifty-foot overpasses crossing over massive freeways or an elevator to the 75th floor of the JP Morgan Chase Tower. There are not many outdoor outlets, and from Dan’s perspective, that means no fun…just a flat, unendurably hot metropolis full of corporate men enslaved to the grinder city life. Their high salaries and enticing retirement plans have skewed their priorities and enchained most of them to "golden handcuffs." With a serious face and a silly tone, he once told me the only purpose of this place is to poop out lots of money, and it does so well. Everything here — investment, trading, attorneys, entertainment, nonprofit fundraising — it is all irrevocably intertwined with the oil refineries just off the coast. They are the heart, pumping natural gas through sturdy pipelines, the city’s own artificial veins.  

Houston is gargantuan, both in geographic distance and population. It is so large that the word “sprawl” actually originated from its overflowing suburbs, and so massive that it is roughly the same size as the entire island of Oahu, Hawaii. 2.2 million people live here, the most racially diverse and fourth-largest city in the country. Between the square mileage and residents of Houston, traffic is a perpetual nightmare. I have finally mastered driving to the office and Dan's without Google Maps, but I would be hopelessly lost on the roads without the blessings of real-time GPS satellites. Even with Siri kindly directing me, I am so overwhelmed on these freeways that I still regularly miss my exits. Thank goodness for those easily-accessible service and U-turn roads. One should expect to double commute time and anticipate a bumper-to-bumper crawl on six-lane interstates during rush hour. Accident clean ups are so ordinary others are more concerned about getting through it and on their way than the safety of those just hit. 

Despite the low prices at the pump, industries and Fortune 500 companies continue to attract young, bright professionals, allured here by the promise of making more money than they know how to spend. Most of them, however, learn quickly. Though the 5K loop at Memorial Park is about as close as H-Town comes to pleasing outdoor enthusiasts, it is a culinary mecca for foodies and drink connoisseurs. Houstonians eat out more than residents of any other city; streets brim with high-end restaurants and sleek, modern bars.*

Just over a month ago, I moved to this oil metropolis, a place I had only visited a few times before. 

***

I don’t deny it - I am here for the sole purpose of being in the same place as my boyfriend. Let’s preface this whole discussion with the caveat that I never, ever thought I would be “that girl” - the one who bases any big decision on a man. 18 months ago I would have laughed if you told me I would be following a boyfriend anywhere; there were no potential prospects to even refer to with such a title. I — independent, single Jessica Compton — would not-so-subtly roll my eyes and scoff with disgust at the idea of making any life choice based on a dude. That, I'm sure I would say, is lame and desperate. 

Yet here I am. On August 8, I road tripped with my sweet Mama over 1,000 miles from Charleston to Houston and did just that: followed my boyfriend to a city, knowing little more than that it was “really big.” But, as I have written before, this is no schmo-Joe guy. This is Dan Telsey, D-Boy, Dan the Man — Dan my man. (The novelty of saying that still hasn’t worn off, and I don’t expect it will anytime soon.)

Whether it is through his witty sarcasm or goober of a personality, he is the only one who has me in a constant fit of giggles, and his girth of stories and facts keeps conversations interesting. He mastered the art of pushing my (…sundry) buttons early on, but he does so minimally and wisely. His sensitivity allows him to care for me and many others deeply. He believes in the transformative power of the Gospel, he is always ready for an adventure, and his voracious appetite for travel consumed most of his vacation days by March. Most weekends, he is more likely to have boarded an airplane and cleared out of Houston than to have stayed put. 

Growing up, my mom wisely advised my siblings and me to look for a significant other who “sees the best in you, brings out the best in you, and wants the best for you.” Dan does that — he sees the good in me yet spurs me on to the next best version of myself. About one month into dating, I caught him unawares when I assertively proposed the idea of moving to Houston after graduation. Though any big decision nearly paralyzes Dan, after a few days of contemplation, he had the backbone and gumption to welcome me. I plan on attending graduate school in New Zealand beginning in January, and we decided it would be wise to live in the same place prior to that jump across the globe. Neither of us wanted to end up in a two-year long-distance relationship and discover that we did not, as it turned out, want to marry each other after all.

So the majority of my senior year, assuming we were still dating come August, that was my game plan. 

“We’ll take it month by month,” I said once as we talked on the phone last fall.

“Month by month? How about by weeks or days!?” he retorted.

We do operate on different wave lengths - I jump the gun, he trails reluctantly behind; we are both learning lessons from each other in patience and decisiveness. Yet here we are, 11 month-by-months later and still together. After nine official months of long-distance dating, it is a pleasure to replace a video call with the real person.

Unlike Dan, I am not averse to Houston, but I have not developed any particular attachment to it either. It’s the myriad golden moments that are making these months in H-Town enjoyable.

***

Backpack strapped and luggage packed, I readied myself to get in the car, bound for my return flight to Houston from the Philly airport. Days after my move, I flew out to attend a packed wedding weekend celebrating the marriage of Dan’s brother, Max, and his bride Christine. 

It was now Sunday, and I was about to step off the exhausting “Telsey Treadmill of Fun.” I gave Dan a squeeze and pecked him on the lips. I had grown accustomed to the inevitable goodbye at the conclusion of our marathon weekends together, but for the first time, my heart wasn’t aching with dread.

“Whelp, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, and smiled.

He returned the smile and nodded. “Yes, you will indeed.”

Uttering those words was deeply satisfying. Good riddance long distance. For now, anyway.

It is always the lack of something seemingly banal that makes you value it more: the lights when they are low, the sun when it snows (thanks Passenger). Long distance makes me grateful for the simplicity of togetherness. Weekend visits used to be time bombs, and I did not want to waste any moments together without intentional conversation. I am not very comfortable with silence and have not yet fully transitioned out of that mindset, but the pressure is finally off.

We sit together on the couch indian style, computers in our laps. We are both sucked into individual tasks on our laptops. But I am distracted with my own thoughts.

What should I ask him? How can I get to know him better? I need to utilize our time!

But wait. Do I? We are in the same space, and he is not going anywhere. There is no pressing need to speak. Just be.

I let out a contented sigh and keep working. This is normalcy. These moments constitute the majority of one’s life. This is “boring,” unworthy of social media’s portrayal of life awesomeness. We are both here; our knees touch and the silence sits. I suppose this is “hanging out” in its most unexciting form. But the togetherness is enough, a simple thing I do not take for granted.

It is a small sample for what “normal” dating in the same place is like. Other normalcy now includes cooking dinner, attending church together and growing spiritually in the same Bible study, and the convenience of spontaneous rendezvous. Projects at Exxon have just been piled on which will mean less time together. But we're both still here! We're in Houston, and I like it that way. When I think about being separated again come January, my chest already starts to squeeze up. Though that time will come, it is still months away, and I choose to live presently. Dan and I are in the same place right now, so I will appreciate that gift while I have it.

Though Dan will always rag on Houston, I am very happy to call this my temporary home. It is not the city itself, but the people and positive experiences I have had over the last six weeks that make me treasure this special season in H-Town. 

August 8, 2015
Ready for the road trip!

Exploring corners of Houston

...and finding pockets of nature outside of the city when I'm off.
Brazos Bend State Park

Though our typical weekend jaunts continue, 

Philadelphia - Max & Christine's Wedding

Aspen, CO - Maroon Bells 4 Pass Loop Labor Day Weekend

 at least our arrival and departure destinations are the same now.

Houston! Hooray for the same place!!!

P.S.
Dan is only a third of my very fulfilling post-grad life in Houston, but time continues to speed by (it's the end of September?!), and I was getting too overwhelmed to write about all of it. Up next: Boosterific and Roomiez!

*http://www.houstontx.gov/abouthouston/houstonfacts.html