I haven’t had much to write about lately. Mostly because I haven’t done a lot of dating – therefore, I don’t have many experiences to lament to random people on the internet about. Lately, when people have asked how my dating life is going, I give a pretty in-between answer. I say “eh, it’s fine. I’m open to something happening, but not really pursuing anything right now.” Now, I am a big proponent of embracing the dating season you’re in and being aware of what your heart needs, but I’m starting to realize that maybe that’s not my full story.
Over the past year, I’ve dipped my toe into the dating pool in very non-committal ways. I keep the apps on my phone and swipe a bit when I’m feeling bored or a little lonely. I send a few messages back and forth but give up after a few. I put myself in situations where I can meet new guys and flirt a bit, but I keep my expectations low. I’ve told myself that I just don’t have the emotional capacity right now to risk my heart any further, and in some ways, that’s true. I’ve had an unexpectedly challenging year, and an even tougher last few months. But I’m realizing that maybe I’m using my situation as an excuse to avoid vulnerability in one of the most challenging areas of my life.
As I’ve grown older, life has expectedly beaten me around a bit. As I’ve navigated the heartbreaks, let-downs, disappointments and upheavals, I’ve developed a thicker skin. This skin was given to me to heal, protect and prepare me for the next challenge – but sometimes, if I’m not careful, this skin can become a place to hide. As dating has become an increasingly long string of disappointments, this skin has begun to feel more like home, more like a place I can settle in to.
Acknowledging the Armor
Over the past few years, I’ve noticed that this “thick skin” can begin to look like armor. Often, I unwittingly put on piece of armor after piece of armor, not realizing that I’m weighing myself down with armor needed for a fight that doesn’t fully exist. A few years ago, I suddenly realized that I had built up armor against a potential relationship with any man – because I was struggling to believe that there were any honorable men worthy of my heart out in the world. I had been broken by the men in my life, and I saw the same pattern playing out for many of my friends. Thankfully, God slowly surrounded me with kind, generous, thoughtful men that helped me remove those pieces of armor.
Lately, I’ve found that I’ve let the armor build itself up again, but in different ways. Now, my armor takes on the form of low expectations. When I do feel a spark, I tell it to burn out – not because I’m afraid it will become a fire I can’t control – but because I’m terrified it’ll become a fire that burns without purpose. A fire that burns simply to destroy. Instead of feeling hope as my heart peers around the corner of it’s walls, I whisper for it to quietly go back to where it came from.
As I’ve sought God’s heart and wisdom in this area of my life, I turned to Song of Solomon, which tells us not to awaken love until it’s proper time. But the question arises - does this also mean not to awaken hope? Am I to sit quietly inside my carefully built fortress, waiting for someone to see through the walls and deem me worthy of breaking them down? Or is it enough to want to feel for no one more than myself? If only to prove to myself that it’s possible.
Earlier this week, I watched a movie that perfectly captured the paralyzing agony of hiding behind armor. The movie wasn’t anything particularly special, but was one of those stupid teenage romcoms that played into every trope – but even in its unoriginality, it did something to my heart. The characters in the movie were so capable of letting themselves recklessly feel, with little consideration for the consequences. They laid down their armor, unafraid of the damage that might be done in the moment. While I don’t advocate for that approach in its entirety, there was something I envied about their ability to feel love, pain, bliss and anger so viscerally.
I don’t know if I have a lot of wisdom for you in these words, but I know that matters of the heart don’t always fit into a nicely wrapped package. But what I do know is I want to fight for the chance to love and experience all that life has to offer. I want to fight to acknowledge my armor, lay it down and walk bravely into battle knowing full well that pain may come.
Life is still a series of gray areas, but I don’t want to get so comfortable that I end up living there. I still want to expect color.
