Creating a new fire in your relationship

Ah, the joy and excitement of the beginning: The tingling feeling in our bodies when we see their face, the first time we brush against them, or our hand touched theirs, the first kiss, the second, the long conversations, the intense interest in the newness of it all and the wanting to know everything about that person . . . where is it now?

I like to think of relationships like a fire. They’ll die if they don’t get enough air or aren’t tended to properly.

When I first got into this relationship thing at the age of 15, I believed what the world told me and showed me in movies and media: a prince would find me, bring me to his kingdom, make me his princess, and we would live happily after. As a result, I thought that was the goal in real life, too. I think about that great moment in the movie Jerry McGuire, when Renee Zellweger’s character says, “You complete me.” It made me buy into the idea that we are empty without that special someone. Those ideas about love now seem crazy to me. I mean, the thought never even crossed my mind when my first child was born that somehow she was deficient because she wasn’t born with her “true love.” But going through many relationships, a marriage, a divorce, and helping so many others down this road, has given me the most wonderful wisdom, and I now know that this is a very deeply flawed premise!

In the past, when I was in a relationship, I completely gave myself over to another person. I stepped into their kingdom and tried to make it mine. I learned what they liked and wanted and saw the world through their eyes to ensure I could be their proper “other half.” I tried to stand by my prince no matter what, but in doing that, I had no idea I was losing the princess that they had met. I began to give up the things I loved: music, going out by myself, playing in the city, meeting new people, and exploring subjects that interested me.

Here’s a perfect example of what I mean: When I first met my husband, I had started painting, which was something I had loved to do in high school. One day he came home, looked at my painting, and commented, “That’s horrible!” So I did what I thought a good princess should do—I gave it up. A few years later, he started to paint, and I fully supported and encouraged him, as I thought I should, to make sure our kingdom was a warm and happy place. (After all, it’s not called a queendom.)

By the end of the marriage, I realized that I was the only one tending to the fire. I built the fire, ran for logs, and then would quickly run back to make sure the fire—or my husband—didn’t go cold. It was all one-sided. I started to rebel. I built my own fire, and my fear that my husband would no longer be there came true.

This experience was vital to my learning. It taught me that all relationships take work from both sides to keep the fire going. Now I have my own fire that burns strong in my heart. I tend to it lovingly, and because of it, I not only have a fire of my own, but I share that fire with others who also bring their fires to share.

Last night I took my son out for dinner—the first dinner that was just the two of us. It was something I wouldn’t have done years ago for fear of creating space from my other two children. But this time, I had filled my own emotional cup earlier in the day, which helped me stoke my fire, and I felt strong. I brought a card game for us to play—Monopoly Deal—and we had a ball trying to beat each other. We laughed as the cards moved across the table, shared our dinner, exchanged thoughts about tree activists in Kenya, and discussed whether or not another burger or dessert was in order. The people at the tables next to us and some of the servers commented on how much joy they were getting by watching us. It reminded me that when we have beautifully strong and growing relationships with others, we can not only warm ourselves, but we can also inspire others to build and create their own fires. What happens is that this world becomes a warmer, more abundant place.

So I suggest you get out there and find something you love all on your own. Start making solo plans with your good friends, like you probably did before you got married, and if possible, start to get a wider group of friends. Creating some space (which makes room for oxygen) and having some new adventures (the equivalent of tossing logs onto your fire) will hopefully get your own fire burning and inspire your hubby to get his going. And I don’t need to tell you what happens when two fires come together!