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It isn’t often that I find myself waxing poetic on the joys of Valentine’s Day, quite the reverse. Though the candy-coated hype can be sickening, on the whole, I am indifferent to its dubious charms. As I wrote earlier this year in response to a blog comment championing the holiday:
I don't place that much importance on it. I'd much rather have a relationship where you surprise and appreciate one another throughout the year than have a humdrum relationship with an ostentatious show on the days you're "supposed to" be romantic.
This year was different.
I think that the most important qualities for a survivor’s partner are patience, compassion, and strength. For survivors, I believe that openness, perseverance, and an earnest desire to work at the relationship are integral. Survivors can make wonderful partners, one may have to put in a little extra effort, but it will be repaid tenfold.
I didn’t have high expectations. I never do for Valentine’s day – I’ve been disappointed far too many times. I did have a boyfriend, but that didn’t matter – my worst Valentine’s days have been the ones I’ve been in relationships. The previous night P and had had a long discussion about the dreadful holiday. It was the same for her, but a thousand times worse – the poor girl had been with someone for years and never gotten a single flower! Some of the horror stories she told made me want to swear off Valentine’s altogether.
But this year participation was mandatory, I already had plans. J was picking me up at 5. Whatever. Just another Saturday, I tried to tell myself. I went for a run, talked to a few of my depressed girl friends, and just went about my day.
Around 3 my phone beeped at me, “Did you get anything from me this morning?” said J’s text message.
The building's super, Castro, wasn’t holding a package for me, no notes on the door … nope, no package.
I shrugged my shoulders and got ready. A few hours later J picked me up at 5 carrying 2 dozen deep pink roses. “They are beautiful!” I exclaimed, after a moment.
“They aren’t as nice as what I was supposed to come,” he said as he opened the car door for me. “I bought you a miniature rose bush in a beautiful pot I picked out especially for you. Long stem roses only last a few weeks, but you can keep the rose bush forever.”
When we got to his apartment, he cut off the bottoms of the stems and crammed them into an elegant vase, clearly designed to hold a dozen roses. Flowers squished firmly into the vase, like little pink anchovies in a sea of green, he reached into a bag on the nearby countertop. Extracting a small glass bottle he presented me with a present – rose salt he’d gotten in Georgia. “I saw it and thought of you.” he told me. I thanked him and looked at the curious gift. It was nice that he’d thought of me on his holiday, I do like salt, and rose salt for Valentine’s day was a really sweet and thoughtful present, but I was still skeptical. Having over an hour before our dinner reservation, so he fixed us each a drink and we adjourned to the sofa to talk.
The only time we’d hung out in a month was for his father’s birthday celebration – I was concerned. Sure he’d been out of town for part of the time, but he’d had time to hang out with friends. We never saw each other - this wasn't how it was supposed to be, was it? I had been thinking about it for weeks. He didn't want to see me - I just knew it. What had I done wrong this time?
Even when he gave me the roses J had seemed stiff, like he was doing it because he was supposed to – like he couldn’t break up with me on Valentine’s day but he was only there because he felt obligated. Had another relationship somehow self-destructed without my knowledge? I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the worst. If he wanted out that was fine, I just didn’t want to drag things out if he didn’t even want to be around me.
Somehow it didn’t work out like that. In the midst of my paralyzing fear, when we actually sat down on the sofa, and he put his arms around me, the tension started to slip away. We talked – about everything; my fears, and problems, his concerns, obligations, our relationship, and how we would make things better in the future. With anyone else it would probably have been a nightmare, but it just seemed to strengthen the relationship. It felt so nice – like I could tell him anything. We talked for over an hour. By the time we had to leave for our dinner reservation, all my fears allayed, I was happier than I could remember being with a relationship.
As I have mentioned in earlier entries, as for many brain injury survivors, developing and maintaining romantic relationships is far from being one of my strengths. Understanding and living with brain injury can be difficult in and of itself, but adding the heightened emotions of relationship to the mix and you have a recipe for volatile behavior. Add to that the additional fatigue from heightened emotions, more fatigue from learning social behaviors, fear from past bad experiences, and so on and so forth. Relationships can be terribly hard.
I feel extremely lucky to be with someone who is patient with me and does put the effort out. I can only hope that the friendship and relationship continue to develop and that our friendship and partnership grows stronger over time. There are patient, caring, loving people out there. It is just as important for this as for all other aspects of improvement - never give up hope. There is even an online support community for people with disabilities and their partners. http://www.able2beme.com/
