A letter for you

Sam,

The last few months with you have been an absolute rollercoaster, and I’ve enjoyed every single minute of it. You’re exciting, fun, energetic, charismatic, you can move a crowd — you have presence. The persona you carry in front of others is incredible. I fell for you the second I saw you on my ass in the rear view mirror at Brushy Mountain — that was the first moment I thought to myself “damn, this girl is BUILT DIFFERENT.” I saw the co-driver I was always looking for in that moment. Since then, we’ve gone through so many moments that I think back on and go “that shouldn’t have been that easy… and yet it was.” — things as simple as “hey, I didn’t like that” and you telling me “okay, no problem, I’ll stop”. Even last night, I was shocked at the fact that all I had to say was “you’re pissing me off” and you were able to work through it and identify on your own what exactly had pissed me off, and then apologize of your own accord. that’s unbelievably rare. I think we were both shocked by how well this worked. You’re goofy, you’re motivated, you’re driven, you’re caring and protective, and you’re all the things that anyone could ever ask for from a woman.

This is all the happy good smiley side of things though. I want you to fully grasp one thing amongst this message…

I’m not blind to the bad side. The damage, the trauma, the mental blocks, the shutdowns and the stress, the anger and sadness. My eyes are wide open, and I have already seen into your soul. The part of you that peaks out when you let the mask slip, the terrified girl who’s desperately searching for solid ground to land on, who’s had the rug ripped out from under her repeatedly and is bracing for the rug to move again. The girl that decided it was easier to hold people at a distance than to let people in and risk the same harm again, the girl that wants to run.

The reason I bring up this side is because I need you to understand that I’m doing all of this while fully knowing and fully seeing that side. You are not too much. You are not too broken. You are not too damaged. You’ve been hurt and abused and betrayed in the past… and that’s okay. I’m doing all of this with not only the knowledge that it’s there, but the desire to dig into it. The desire to be there on the worst days where everything feels like you’re collapsing, the drive to hold you up when you can’t hold yourself up any longer. I’m walking into this KNOWING there will be hard times. I’m walking into this KNOWING there will be times where you just can’t explain why you’re feeling this way, or not even realizing that you are feeling some way. I’m accepting every single bit of you as a whole. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

When I ask this question, I’m not asking you for the perfect part that performs well and does everything right. I’m asking you for Sam. I’m asking for you, an individual human being, to create a relationship with me where we grow, push each other, and pick each other up when we’re down. I’m asking Sam to reach for me when she needs help. I’m asking Sam to hold me and tell me she’s proud of me when everything else is crumbling. I’m asking Sam to build something bigger than either one of us could ever make alone.

I’m handing you my heart. Fully, completely, and totally, while also fully knowing that you could shatter it in a heartbeat. I’m trusting you not to. I’m trusting that you understand that I’m not looking for a fun fling with the cool motorcycle girl. I’m trying to build something that lasts for the rest of eternity, and I am fully committed to doing that, no matter what it takes — rough edges and trauma and all.