My Perfect Love is a Lighthouse

I used to describe Mr. Lyndsy as my anchor. Recently though I’ve been giving some thought to that term. I never meant it negatively. At the time, I was pretty fucking lost in my head. This was before I finally got on antidepressants and had anti-anxiety meds for the bad episodes. It was really a very dark time. He kept me from staying lost in space, because I knew that he was holding on to me. It was a little like the weight at the end of a balloon.

But I started thinking about the anchor metaphor and I didn’t like it. I never feel like he’s keeping me in one place, keeping me from exploring, keeping me from developing into me. That’s actually the opposite of what he does for my life.

While I was puzzling through it, it hit me: He’s not an anchor; he’s a lighthouse. I can go miles away, to see what’s there. His light will always shine so I can find my way back home. My life could be in a metaphorical downpour, me at risk of getting caught and lost in the storm, and his light will be shining so brightly and so strongly that I will be able to find my way back home.

For someone like me who is still trying to figure out what the fuck she’s doing, what the fuck she’s meant to be doing, and what the fuck is supposed to be done next, having a lighthouse for a partner is an amazing gift. There has never been anyone in my life so steadfast, so sure. I know that he will always have my back. He’s more protective of me than I am.

I waited a long time for him. No joke, I have been looking for him since I was 5 years old. I remember the first crush I had in kindergarten. Then in third grade, when we moved to Florida. High school too. College as well. I don’t think I’ve forgotten a single one.

Some say you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince. My path was a lot uglier than that. Knowing what I know now, I would have chosen literally kissing a frog to what my life was like: Rape, abuse, assholes. Pucker up, Mr. Frog.

Even now I can’t escape some of those old episodes. Bizarre things remind me of people better left in the past. Leftover emails. Being around people who seem to just want to hurt me. Those things affect me horribly. They make me want to run and hide and not come out. My own fort where I’m safe.

But then I remember that Mr. Lyndsy’s light will always shine. No matter what happens, if I go out and it’s too much, or it’s too awful, I will be able to look to the sky and see his light. I will find the way back to safety.

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