Past relationships.

I just realized that the scrutiny and analyzation of my current life did not exist in my younger years. Or, if they did, I don’t remember them. And you would think that between my high school and lost-but-slightly-graduated years would be devoid of intuition but think again. In hindsight, I definitely had some. Maybe we always do or did, even if we weren’t aware. Even if we didn’t know what intuition is. Actually, I’m realizing that past Adriana’s motives were mostly pure. And when they were, weren’t they ever. Running around so many people with potential, yet finding quite possibly the most damaged youth and falling deeply and immediately in love. In a place that doesn’t even exist anymore.

What a trip. I’ve since returned to the places where I found my first love with arguably my second. I’d call him a partner but that was never actually clarified in the months we spent together. Months of loving on each other, laughing, learning things the hard way, and sleeping next to each other.

Honestly, I just read a tarot card that said my “true” love is already in my life. My brain immediately attempts to discredit it until I remember that we are never really separate from anything. But then I got to thinking about it and now I’m here. I guess I’ve had two really quite beautiful loves. One as a sweet but self destructive 20 year old, and one late summer love years later that poured into fall and dissipated in the winter. While both had their traumatic moments, one with what I can only describe as a psychiatric brain mashing, and one with any leftover remnants of the first. And this, among many other things is why I adore the people I’ve learned my lessons with. Are they perfect? What does that even mean? No. Absolutely not. My second relationship was deeply meaningful- providing me with a safe place to break my own heart for the last time… To pour out jagged fragments of what’s been done so that I don’t have to carry them anymore. To identify with them. To bleed for them anymore. This relationship was wise to my weak and vulnerable points. Not wise enough to love them with tender touch; but wise to be exactly triggered to them, seeing them honestly, becoming a catalyst in my healing. He saw to the truths of my sore spots without the gauze and haze of my past medical days clouding his vision. What he lacked in empathy he made up for in almost-constructive criticism and seafood. He did a lot of things, and then made up for them. He constantly fed me. These are all small letter of love. The absence of gentle touch and gaze was unavoidable, but it only set the stage for all the other ways this man showed love. And curiosity. His process looks very hesitant bachelor. The whole shebang and no label. “Getting to know” eachother without the typical deep and star covered conversations early lovers share. In actuality, there is a more authentic energy inspiring it. He just puts you in the passenger seat. He drives you through his life for awhile, feeling it out. Until he misses having his dog in that seat. Until he realizes how many more exits can I drive up, off, and past with this woman? Is she even in the right car? Is there one where SHE would be happier? And this was a theme in the end of our relationship. He saw my sadness. I can’t completely speak to what sourced it, but I know my mind didn’t come in handy here. The experiences showed me love and celebration in ways I couldn’t translate at the time. I subconsciously committed to seeing the lack, the ideas of how and what I thought everything should be. But I have zero regrets. It all landed me exactly here. A year of shadow work later. A year of crying, growing, learning, becoming all the wiser. A year of unbelievable transformation. And my credits roll these two people in the largest font. I have undeniably spent most of my awakening and transformation on my own but the featuring characters come in with an intensity and unforgettableness. That’s what these relationships were. And I’m ridiculously blessed to call them family to this day.